So, I was chatting with a chipmunk today and he said this bird he’d spoken with earlier was blathering about a moose she met who was moaning about the fact that he was invited to the party of the century by magical pixies and how he couldn’t make it. The party in question was being DJ’d by Xaxthanol 6 of the Intergalactic Happiness Empire in sector 85192.4 and taking place at the Foam Nightclub in the old city district in Atlantis.
Xax is on her third Lollipop Rainbow Party tour and this is her first visit to Earth. When asked about the party last week she was quoted as saying “Humans are a total upper, yo.  No one knows how to party like them. My beats are gonna bring them to a whole new level.â€
There’s a great amount of talk in the writing community in regards to prose (especially in fiction) and this talk usually begins with the idea of ‘showing vs telling’. The trouble is, as far as I can tell, it seems to be a general idea with few specifics offered as to how to achieve this. When I was younger I read quite a few books on the subject and in the last decade there’ve been a plethora more (some now in podcast form).
But, what I have yet to encounter is a guide that actually explains the strategy necessary to achieve this. It’s almost as if a writer is on a quest to find the answer for themselves. It’s a trial and they’re expected to ‘feel it out’. I’d like to think I’m in the know on this idea, as when I go back and read what I’ve written in the last decade, for the most part I’ve avoided many of the mistakes I’ve seen in other writing and I’ve managed to eradicate the mistakes I myself used to make. That’s certainly not to say that my writing is perfect, but there’s no such thing as perfect when discussing human creativity, just bad, good enough or great etc. I’d like to imagine I’ve avoided bad, terrible, atrocious etc.
I asked myself last night, ‘how in the hell did I manage to drive to Barrie on a flat tire?’ but I didn’t bother to answer: that’s just stupid. It’d be way too circular: as if I’m both Acrisius and the Oracle. You don’t want to mess with that shit. In any case, I changed the tire: I had to, even though I didn’t necessarily want to.
It was just something that had to be done even if it was something that was difficult and unnecessarily exhausting. That baffles me as it’s just five bolts to be removed and then reattached. I even have a hydraulic jack. It really shouldn’t drain me the way it does. But for some reason it’s about as exhausting as I imagine turtle tapping is to poor old Mario. Despite the fact that it was a draining experience, at least I was able to make my escape from Barrie. That’s always good.