Category Archives: Write Eejit

The Ramblings of a Write Eejit

I’m a write eejit . . . if I think I stand a chance of competing with all the brilliant people out there blogging about how bloody brilliant they are.

So, here’s what I’m proposing: I sneak in the back way. Instead of wit, Pulitzer prize-winning writing skills, and amazing connections in the blogosphere, I’ll use good old self-deprecating humor. The Irish are brilliant at poking fun at themselves; they raise it to a fine art, think of Samuel Beckett or Graham Norton.

By definition, self-deprecating means I’m going to have to talk about myself—a lot! Who else’s head can I crawl inside and poke around in, lifting flaps of skin here, squinting down bundles of neurons there, looking for a snugget (even smaller than a nugget) of enlightenment?

And on the subject of enlightenment—be honest, folks, who isn’t looking for the answer to that Big Question, Why Are We Here? I mean there’s got to be a reason that gobs of oxygen and hydrogen and nitrogen and (okay, I didn’t get chemistry, but I was very good at biology) all came together in such perfect harmony (think Coca-Cola Christmas ad) and allowed us mortals to flower into existence. Or why a particular batch of DNA soup produced me. So, I hear you ask, what is that reason?

To think our way out of the box, of course. If you don’t know that yer a right eejit.

Let’s face it, thinking outside the box is the only way forward. Early man could have made a mental note to avoid that stretch of river bank where the ooze sucked you in up to your knees, but instead he scooped up a handful and squeezed it between his fingers, feeling its smooth elasticity and bingo, he got a crazy idea . . . he could shape this goopy stuff into a pair of cupped hands and the dense clay would hold things, like water, grain, and berries. Actually, truth be told, it was far more likely early woman was sitting on the river bank trying to snag a few minutes peace and quiet while the kids were happily making mud pies when she had her eureka moment.

Either way, it—creativity—happened, and civilization took a step forward.

I firmly believe we all have that deep-rooted creativity in our genes. Of course it manifests itself in myriad ways in say, the tech world, the business world, or art world. But it’s the driving force behind progress. The reason we’re here is to get creative. What are you waiting for . . . off you go now and get busy with the glue gun, or the pen, or the spade, or the drum machine.

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beckettGlasses

You’re a write eejit . . . if you think you can keep your writing and family life separate.

Here’s a typical afternoon in my house.

Okay I just have time to edit—

“Mom! The cat’s playing with a half-dead chipmunk and my soccer coach is going to bench me if I turn up with only one purple sock and by the way I flunked my Spanish test and what’s for dinner and did I tell you Tim is staying over and why is child no. 3 allowed to watch Halloween, Part 8 you wouldn’t let me see that when I was five?”

. . . now where did I file that synopsis and was it the short one or the long one? And did I send the critique of that sex manual to—? Oh god, the school guidance counselor is going to think I’m a sex addict when he finds it in his inbox. He’ll probably call child protective services and . . .

“Mom! I’m scared and I just know I’m going to have nightmares and can I sleep in your bed tonight.”

. . . what was I making for dinner . . . and oh, there are my glasses, in the fridge with the deli slices . . . HAS ANYONE FED THE CATS? . . . must remember to clean up the chipmunk guts from under the . . . oh, that gives me an idea—where’s a Post-it note . . . credit card bill, hoped I’d lost that . . . glass of wine . . . aaah!