CBMused

1. Start by cleaning your desk (so you’ll have a clear mind), making yourself a drink (in case you need it for inspiration) then check your watch and confirm that half an hour had already passed and you haven’t opened a word document yet.

2. Set yourself a word count target for a writing session and continually click on the Recount button in MS Word. Or, better still, locate a script that counts words as you type and watch the figures grow as you write utter garbage.

3. Google ‘tips for better dialogue’ and read the same articles rehashed by different authors subliminally designed to discourage you from writing, then ponder why writers’ websites have this 1990s web look and feel that make them an eyesore to read.

4. Engage in a mind-distracting fantasy with one of your characters and create a scene in your head that has no place in your novel.

5. Convince yourself that you should make a place for the scene above then ponder if you’re straying from your novel’s prime directive.

6. Check your email(s), blog, IMs, RSS feeds frequently and tell yourself these are rewards and positive reinforcements for the seven words you’ve just written.

7. Reread your favourite parts over and over again so that when it comes to writing the difficult chapters, you then dismiss whatever writing you’ve achieved as utter crap.

8. Instead of writing the missing chapters, start revising and editing chapters and get all excited when you’ve eliminated adverbs, fixed some stray punctuation, thought of a better word than ‘she grinned’ then check your word count again to find it has gone down by two.

9. Ponder for the umpteenth time if you should join a writer’s forum then dismiss it as a time wasting exercise with pretentious people offering pompous advice.

10. Tell yourself that you should start each writing session by making freewriting part of your daily (wishful thinking) routine and tap yourself on the back for formulating a plan you’re going to stick to this time and celebrate by imbibing that drink that’s been tempting you from the start.

Word count = 345

Blogs provide a medium for the self-expression of individuals who are writers, wannabe writers and would-be writers. Who among us, if given half a chance would not make the blog to book progression? I’m no different. I have a couple of writing projects under my metaphorical belt, and two other ideas looming in the background once the current work in progress reaches the next milestone.

Yet the satisfaction of seeing my name in print or following in revered footsteps would only provide meagre rewards. What would make me leave my day job for a paid writing career is the burning desire to pen my creativity for money, to see my name next to flashy headlines and words strung together like these…

to give spell check the old heave-ho…

to connect serious photographs to stereotypical headlines…

and to offer my creative services to produce spam emails like these…

Yet I can do better.

I can create an editorial from the spam snippets above, sell it to a reputable publication and make a killing.

3 More Inches of Fire in Crotch Shot at 3 Meters
By Cléa B. Mused
April, 15, 2008 02:37 am

A man in his thirties has reported that he has successfully shot fire in his crotch at close range. Joaquim (not his real name) never agreed to feel like a loser. He had the burning desire to feel more connected to the person. His only hindrance was that his little soldier was three inches too short and he never gave his partner the experience she deserves. He felt it was his duty, to feel his male superiority grow in inches, to become more attractive to the ladies(!) sic, and give them more force and super-dimension to rock their socks off, if indeed socks turned them on.

So he took the plunge and clicked on the link in his email box. And finally, he was able to release the fire in his crotch.

“I blew her mind!” Joaquim said in an exclusive interview to this publication. “She saw the fire in my eyes when I told her that I can shoot 3 meters!”

It was a true godsend to his little soldier of love.

After all, how hard can it be?

Credits: Screen captures of the quotations are taken from their sources but not referenced. The article in blockquote is my original work.

A female innocently wraps her arm around a male’s waist, slides her hand down a few inches over his jeans and gives him a tap on the posterior, or a tiny press on the buns. The male, in a gesture of familiarity, strokes the rounded cheeks of the female’s behind and performs a big squeeze. The public arse grab, or ass grab (for a different sound effect), has become as ubiquitous as hand holding.

While it can be argued that it is nothing but another form of public display of affection, or part of a mating ritual, I maintain that the nonchalance involved in grabbing a partner’s arse is no different to an animal marking its territory. While it appears to be performed as an act of affection or intimacy, it sends a subliminal message to others that the person, or rather their bum, belongs to no other than the hand that grabs it.

Yesterday at an upmarket furniture store, I saw the ultimate arse grab. The ass grabber, a 6 foot 2 species of the attractive-yet-too-cocky variety, ensured his voice carried through the vast space of the showroom as he gave his tall, skinny, tanned, short-shorts clad species of the blonde-female variety his advice on how to rearrange her bedroom. Once he got the public attention he so obviously sought, he lightly brushed the unsuspecting female’s lower back with his splayed fingers. He then slid his hand to fully cup her tiny arse before he slid them lower and further in between her legs. While the ass grabee was unfazed by his wandering digits, this humble scribe’s aww…eww scale hit the wtf rating. She took mental notes. Naturally.

With no limits imposed on where hands can roam in public, humans are returning to their animal foundations. Next we will turn a public blind eye to a boob fondle, a nipple squeeze, a bulge grope, a long and steady stroke, and end up having sex in public as we mark our territories around shopping centres.

If we believe arse grabbing is merely a gesture of affection or intimacy, maybe we should ask ourselves how much affection one can have for an arse.