The Storyteller - the wit and wisdom of Frank Coughlin
 
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No matter how easy technology makes writing - there will always be a premium on good writing, good story-telling, etc. And last but definitely not least - editing.
If there was a way for technology to duplicate good writing - we would have had it eons ago.
Good writers and good editors are worth their weight in gold (that is a cliche that says these people are worth a lot and should be treasured). I have seen a lot of word processing packages and creative packages
such as Adobe Photoshop and they are great and allow the creative person to really create but these software packages can not duplicate the creative drive of even one ordinary person.
So when you are writing remember this - you and your work is unique even if you are ripping some one else off. It took your creative drive to come up with the idea to rip someone else off. Don't underestimate creative drive - it is what separates you from a bunch of monkey typing away. Theoretically, the monkeys are supposed t0 by random chance be able to duplicate Shakesphere (given enough monkeys and enough time). This has however never been proven because monkeys do not have the creative drive to type even a rap lyric let alone Shakesphere.
The title of this blog entry reflects how stupid a spellchecker program can bee. None of the words were flagged wrong. It also reflects how stupid I can be because I thought up the phrase in the title.
The reason factories are not staffed by monkeys is that monkey are more expensive than humans. Remember that when your editor asks you if a monkey typed this (while waving your masterpiece of writing in your face). Dare him to get a monkey that can type as good as hew. Plus, monkeys can't even learn how to use the spellchecker (yet).
I have to go now - Banana Break Time

 
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Ages ago, a writer named Jonathon Swift wrote a small essay called "A Modest Proposal". Swift was a well known Satirist - which means he was known for writing ridiculous topics and making them sound real.
In his essay, he proposed that the children of the poor be sold to scientists for experimentation. Thus, he said,there will be less poor people and the poor will be richer because they will have the money from their children. Many people rushed to judge Mr. Swift's farce as real - some even praised its logic. In the end, Mr. Swift was able to get society to look at the plight of the poor. Mission accomplished. (Although many among the poor of the time thought this man was a monster.)
Today, in the age of such people as Donald Trump - who either is a master of satire (which I doubt) or is so in love with himself that he does not see how ridiculous he truly is, I am going to attempt to write some satire Right here before your eyes.
I call my piece - Vote For Me.
If I am elected for president - I am going to eliminate income taxes. On all people who voted for me. The rest, the losers, the ones who did not vote for me - I will double your taxes. Corporations who give me lots of money can have one law repealed. For instance, if you are from the tobacco industry, I will repeal the law that says you have to tell people what is in your cigarette, ie how much nicotine.
I will remove from the television sets of America, all offensive material - thats right - all channels will now be on cable - no more free TV. I will make cable companies charge you for what you watch - free market values here. If a show is popular then it will cost more to watch. Yes, every TV program will be pay per view.
No, it is not true that I am taking contributions from the Movie and cable companies ( I have already taken them).
I am sure I have a few more policies in the making - such as allowing casinos on campuses, making liquor free but taxing accidents, lawyers, and headache remedies. I also think that Nascar could be improved by making the winner the last one standing - a la demolition derby. And baseball players should give back money for every missed ball, error or strikeout.
And I would create peace by taxing heavily the use of nuclear arms.
I have spoken - vote for me - I am better and smarter than Donald somebody.

 

Let me make this Clear

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The question I ask to students of mine and also to anyone who wishes me to critique their work is this:
What did you mean to say?
(or What is your work supposed to say to me? ) For most writers, it helps to be crystal clear in your meanings. You do not have to worry about being predictable, simply because you cannot predict how your readers will interpret your words.
For instance  - the following words were in a poem -
"White hangs the sheets in the wind, crimson flowers droop nearby, and clouds float on by. "
I had thought I was making a mood apparent but what several of my reader thought I was saying was the weather was clear and dry. One reader asks me how I got the sheets white - no no no - look at the picture - let me make this clear
The white sheets rides the wind, nothing grows here, at least not for long, yet the sky is alive with movement.  Huh - what does that mean ?
Okay here it is perfectly clear - the man is flying a kite in the desert, the sun is going down and clouds are moving in the sky. Look at the picture.
Why is he in the desert ? to get away from people who ask too many questions ! Class dismissed.

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Pages Three or the Page's pages

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This is a cult classic amongst struggling creative types penned by Julia Cameron called "The Artist's Way". I have read it dozens of times and each time I find a new nugget of wisdom. If you are sensing a 'however' - I will not disappoint you.
However, he said, Julia took the time to write certain rules into the premise of the book - rules which should be called Suggestions but are not - thus devotees of the book have decided that they need to enforce these 'rules'. Actually, only one rule needs arbitration - the rule of three, pages that is. Julia's suggestion er I mean rule that creative people need to write three pages of notebook paper long hand is a bit too unexplained.
I know the idea is supposed to stimulate creativity by writing out all the stuff gets in your creative way. However, (my second one in this entry), my experience is that the three pages stimulus only happens in the first few weeks of doing this exercise - after that these pages start taking a life of their own - they become my therapist (lets talk about your childhood again) , my nagging wife (are you going to do me today), and my addiction (I have to do them, I have to do them). Eventually, I get sick of doing them but not before I go through a guilt trip about not doing them. And never has this exercise got me past my writing blocks.
So why do them I ask - Why did Julia ever come up with this exercise in the first place.
I believe the answer is the fact that she thought she was doing good - I believe that Julia thought if she could get enough writers to believe this was a good thing - they would never see her real reason - to get rid of the competition. If there is less writers, then her work will stand out.
So I have decided to write a self-help book for writers - I will tell them they need to write four, count 'em, four pages each day. Yes, I will go one better and I believe that I will eliminate just about all the writers that try my exercise.
And then I will get my novel, play and poetry books published

 
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The weather was a beast uncaged, snarling and ready to pounce. She sauntered over to where I stood. Or did she sashay to his side when I wasn't looking ? There was a knock at the door.
"I have come," he said flatly, "what else did you expect." The cat ran and hid under the bed - she only did that when she knew she was going for a ride. Poor Timmy. He once was the 'in' kid, the kid with everything - then his dog died.
"Life is not just beer and skittles," he said between gulps of his beer. He stopped, took his turn  and then spoke again. "I hate you ! I hate you !" she pounded her fists against my chest. I held her tight. "Let's make love." she whispered and then she smack me upside my head. God, I hate bi-polar woman. The wind died and everyone was happy. It was a mighty wind but it sure did stink. The cat strode into the bed room and hopped on the bed. She held one paw out and extended one claw of the paw - yes, she was giving me the kitty version of the finger. Alison had enough. "I've had enough." she said. "That was the last straw." She pointed to the straw Ted was using. Wait a minute, protested the reader, this does not make any sense. You have to think outside of the box, the professor said as he climbed into a large cardboard box. "Between time and timbuktu there are several other words such as . . .  Butt Ox, a rare animal found in the wilds of Madagascar, has no horns but has a very large rear end. Ah yep, said the local yokel, but you can't get there from here. You have to go to Portersville then Chambersburg then Slippery Yoke then Jasper Hollow then TitusTown then Goofy Ridge. Then you can get there. Sarah thanked him - he seemed like such a gentle man except for the blood stains on his shirt and pants. "I wonder what would get those stains out?" Burn it out - cried the church elder - we will burn the truth out of you. But don't you want the truth to be inside of me ? the witch protested. If the truth is gone won't I be left with just lies. "A lie is just a truth that has not been justified enough," cried the lawyer as he ran from the mob.
I could go on and on but there is so little time - she held me hand tight - please stop, she said I want to die in peace.
There is no point to this - it is just life.

 
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I was fanning through the pictures available through Weebly and Flickr, when this one jumped out at me. (the one to the left).
I liked the way it looked - sort of stained glass effect - but I also wondered if it could do the job. The job of course would be to inspire me, the author into writing something.
Initially, I would say no - it is not inspiring me the way say a picture of a talking dog would. Also, just about any picture with a person in it could be inspiring. This picture however does not seem to have anything tangible in it. How could it possibly inspire me. I had to think about this, but not much. The above picture could inspire a story about windows in a church or an art gallery painting. The picture above could inspire a story about dreams or alien spacecrafts ( the aliens are gaseous creatures glow different colors to communicate). The picture could be what the inside of a talking dog's brain looks like. Well you get the idea. There are seemingly infinite inspirations, one can get from this picture. Many don't make sense to other people but they are not the writers, you are - so you get to choose what meaning you want to get out of this picture.
Writing, especially creative writing is all about Inspiration. Use whatever inspires you, even if it is something drab like gray clothes. Even if it is something ordinary like a can of spinach (that might be scary to some). Even if it is something boring like doing the laundry. You can't force inspiration - you have to do what the Beatles said "Let It Be."
"There will be an answer - Let It Be." Just write about whatever pops into your mind - no matter how insane it might be.
I have to go now - I am going to write about being held captive by aliens who look like dogs. Strangely they only speak English and they love abstract art which is why they came to earth.
Earth being the only place in the universe that has abstract art that looks like stained glass. Their UFO looks like a frisbee and smells like their waste disposal unit is broken. They offer to pay me in dog bones (the universal currency) but I refuse. That is when they kidnapped me.
See how easy it is to be inspired !!! Run with it - whatever it is. Run Fido Run.

 
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I had thought about just posting this picture but then I thought , hey, I used the dog ate my . . . . yesterday. But yesterday I did not have a headache like I do now. The point is - if you ever are lucky enough to get a writing assignment that pays and you do what I do - wait till the last second - you had better practice you excuses.
My mother taught me not to lie but what did she know ? I'll tell what she knew - she knew that excuses can be checked out - such as x-rays for the dog to prove it ate the hard drive. What works better than excuses is alibis.
The great part of alibis is not only does it get you off the hook - it puts the blame on someone else. For instance, you say "I was in the kitchen when I heard a crunching noise coming from the den where my computer is - I ran in only to find Fluffy with the mouse in his mouth, clicking away. In horror, I realized he MUST have deleted my great blog entry. (note the use of the word MUST - just a subtle hint that I could not  deleted the blog entry myself (even if it did ever exist).
Of course, if your employer does not buy your alibi - then you must roll out the big guns. A superbly tall tale which shows off your creative genius (at this time, you need to show Ms. Money bags there is a reason that she is paying you to sleep all day. ) Luckily, I just happen to have a good one.
One day, lets say yesterday, my nephew says in a whiny voice that he wants whatever the gumball machine next to us has. Only one dollar in quarters. Get it, get it, get it - he says one hundred thousand times - Finally, I get it. Of course, he looks at it for several nano-seconds and then moves on to the next thing. What it was (and still is) is a magic ring. I know this because I put it on just to spite the little tyke. Once I did, a genii popped out of thin air and told me that I had three wishes.
For the first wish, I wished for a thousand wishes. The genii laughed and said granted and that I now had only two wishes that would come true. I then asked the genii for a good excuse for not doing my blog post today. He gave me an ear splitting migraine headache and said that it will last all day.
Now I said I am not sure if this will get the job done, after all, it will only last all day. I told him I really needed a story that I can use anytime and people will always think it is original and wonderful and will keep giving me lots of money to sleep all day once they hear it.
But now I must stop and sleep because I have a headache.


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"Hey you, Frankie Boy, it's time to get writing."  The speaker of course is Fluffy the talking dog (graphic representation on the left). Fluffy has been in several of y short stories and a couple of essays too. He has been around in my mind so long that he thinks he is real.
Lately, he has been nagging me to get him some work. I feel like a bad Hollywood agent because I just have not felt he is 'right' for any part in my new stories.
It is not that he is not a cute, smart dog (he is). It is that he has started to get sassy and too big for his muzzle. Any non-talking parts are beneath him and lately, he has starting to ask what is his 'motivation.'
He complains that I have been using too many humans and magical types of animals.
"What you need," he snarled today, "is to get back to basics. A good old all American talking dog."
At this point, my wizard character sets up and asks me if I want to send the dog to the nether regions. "Will he come back like Cujo ? I ask and the wizard nods yes. "Forget it then ,"  I answer.
"Well, then," the wizard continues, "have you finished my story yet ? You know the one where I am entering the haunted castle?" I nod yes. I turn and look at where I had just set it down, next to me on the desk. It is gone.
"I could help you, " my lady detective character says while lifting her skirt provocatively. She winks.  "If you finish my story next."
"NO, you have to do my story next. Mine." says the precocious child (bratty) character, while stomping her feet.
"Hey dude," says my stoner character, "chill out. He has to finish my epic saga first. It is going to be major righteous."
Several other characters started in also but I do not have the space not do I have the indecency to print what they said. Suffice to say, I began to realize that I need to draw the line on characters- they need to stay in my sub-conscious and not in my semi-conscious. Unfortunately, I write mostly in the semi-conscious state.
So I decided to implement plan B. I told them that they could all be in my next blog post. They were happy.

I started to look for my finished wizard story but Fluffy the talking dog stopped me.
"Don't bother," he said "I ate it."

 
The Easter Bunny is secretly a dentist

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This is a picture of the Easter Bunny taken covertly. The place is the Easter Bunny's secret lair. As you can see, the Easter Bunny lives the good life - designer furniture, pearls, top of the line cosmetics, imported wood shavings from high up in Tibet. . .etc. 
You might ask yourself how does a simple egg placer and basket filler afford such digs. The truth is horrifying. Ms. Bunny has been on the payroll of the ADA (American Dental Assoc.) for decades. That's right - the Easter Bunny wants you to eat candy and rot your teeth out.

The Easter Bunny is one of several holiday icons and mythological creatures that are on corporate payrolls. Leprechauns are paid by Guinness (where did you think they got their gold). Tom Turkey was hired by Butterball AND Jenny Craig.  Cupid has an open account with several jewelers and Fannie Mae not to mention the florists of FTD (*oops I mentioned them). And Don't get me started with Santa Claus - Is there any toy company he doesn't get kickbacks from. Even Uncle Sam has been rewarded by the fireworks makers. Even Dracula gets merit raises from retailers for all the costumes sold for Halloween.
Is it any wonder that America's holidays have become commercialized. Of course I do not have proof but has that ever stopped Fox News?
You might be wondering what this all has to do with writing. Well, I go to the library to do research, check out wonderful books but wonderful writers (whom I will steal from, I mean emulate), and use the computers there to navigate the net safely. And during holidays, the library is closed.
So to sum it all up - Easter is when we get to rot our teeth out with rotten candy (is there anything worse than Peeps) and watch every rotten movie saga about Jesus ever made (twice) and be barred from the mind enlightening of stories found in the library. What's not to like?
(P.S. The day after Easter is my favorite day of the year - that is when all the candy left over goes on sale half price.)
Have to go now - time to eat candy !

 
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I have my whole day laid out in front of me- this then that and a couple more things.
But A funny thing happened when I opened up my creative instincts - the child wanted to play. Yes, my inner child wanted to play.

Some people consider this a good thing and I am one of them. However, the child playing can get in the way of what the adult wants to do. The trick is in forming a balance of both. Yes, you can have it all.

You just have to take the right approach. (Hint - avoid thinking in black and white -> there is more to any choice than just this or that). So it is with writing.
To be creative, the writer must engage the magical genius child within. It takes the adult to make sense of it all - or to package it (your output) into something someone else might understand, relate to or be entertained by. To achieve this balance takes practice - the adult wants to control everything and so does the child. Each must learn that the other provides a valuable service - get them both to work together and you have magic.
If  one begins to dominate the other, you will notice. The child will have a tantrum and refuse to do anything worthwhile and the adult will just walk away. These are easy to spot.
The adult needs to feel needed. Let the adult sit there and watch - the child will acknowledge her/him and will ask for help when needed. This is the balance. It is after all an adult world. But a playful one too.
Keep practicing and you will get there - balance of the parent/child inner parts. I am still practicing. I do not know if there is such a thing as mastering this, but I am getting better at it - so that is why I say keep practicing.