You know, I try to be levelheaded and rational. Sure, there are crying jags for no reason. Drinking binges. Days when I build a fort out of my couch cushions here in the Fortress of Somers and refuse to emerge for days at a time, sulking. But, you know, rational. As they say in Singin’ in the Rain: “Dignity. Always dignity.”
In truth, though, I am riddled with horrifying superstitions. The problem is, writing is a semi-magical experience. I have no idea how this thing works. It’s like someone bequeathed me a speedboat in their will and had it delivered to my driveway. The controls are in Chinese and there does not appear to be an engine, yet every time I step inside I somehow get the thing started and magically end up coasting on the water. And, since I am burying myself in an awkward and unnecessary metaphor, let’s also say there is Unicorn on board who is my first mate and speaks English and who can make bottles of Scotch appear magically!
In other words, I have no idea how it works. As a result I live in constant fear it will just … go away.
Every artist in history has that moment, when you look back on their careers objectively, when they lose “it”. When their new work doesn’t have the spark of their earlier efforts. When they start to be boring, repetitive, uninteresting. No one sees it in themselves. There is no warning. It just happens.
This kind of complete lack of control over your own brain chemistry and the ongoing massacre of cell death in my brain makes me superstitious. I write in certain ways, at certain times, using certain materials not because of any real physical advantage, but because it’s how I’ve been doing it since I was 11, and if I change it up now, I might destroy this fragile mysterious thing that keeps giving me ideas.
I have made adjustments from time to time; I’m not completely insane. Just partially insane. I used to write all my long pieces on an old Remington manual typewriter that dated to the 1950s, but I haven’t used it at all in about 7 years, finally bowing to the modern world and using a word processor for longer pieces. I still write my short works longhand in a notebook, however. Although recently I did do the unthinkable and switch pens.
That’s right: I switched pens. And sweated the consequences.
For years, I used a Paper Mate blue pen. White body, blue cap. I bought them in packs of 10 and invariably the last two or three were more or less useless by the time I got to them I could only write my short stories using these pens. Why? Because those are the pens I chose in High School when I started writing short stories out longhand. For 25 years, I used those pens, despite the fact that, frankly, they suck. They dry out fast, are inconsistent regarding ink color and smoothness, and hurt my hand when writing. But the unseen and possibly imaginary gods of writing that I feel staring at the back of my neck required these pens, so I stuck with them … until about 6 months ago, when I switched to Bic Velocity Gels.
Still blue ink, of course.
You may laugh at me and wonder at a grown man who worries about such things, but frankly I was pretty sure the ideas would stop immediately, and I’d have to go into my plan B career: Rodeo Clown. I had the Clown College application filled out and everything. But so far, so good. Lord knows we won’t know if any of these stories are any good until someone else actually reads them, but I’ve written six of them so far with the new pens, and that’s something. Don’t mock me.
Mock you?
And give up the right to holler at my children for using my Pentel Medium Gels (black ink) for something as irrelevant as their homework?
Never.
I am not laughing. I actually had an adrenaline rush at the sight of your papermate pen at the top of the message. Those were the pens I grew up using as well (yes, blue, too). In the past *gulp* 25 years or so of writing, the one thing that I have learned is positively true is, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The problem with writing being magical is that I think we all go through that thing of, “What if it just stops? What if it goes away?” I get frozen by things like that, not so much in my youth, when I used to just spew out thousands of words per day, without a care in the world, but now… I find myself analyzing every life decision, wondering, “If I do that, what impact will it have on my writing?” Yes, even things like which pen to buy. And paper too, because it makes a difference. When I change things, it just takes so long to adjust. Hell, the middle finger on my right hand is actually BENT from holding a pen. What if the new one doesn’t fit?! Anyway, I look forward to reading some of those stories from “Jeff Somers’s Bic Velocity Gel Phase.”
http://the99percent.com/tips/7007/How-Mundane-Routines-Produce-Creative-Magic
I look forward to seeing what kind of magic these new pens shall produce. For now, however, I have the day off, a copy of The Final Evolution, a bottle of Yamazaki, 5 Muji ice balls (google it) and solitude.
I was wondering, since you write pantsless, if you think your books should be enjoyed pantsless? Also, do you have a superstious aversion to pants?
“I’m not superstitious… I’m just a little stitious”
Michael Scott from The Office
The Pantsless Army
Keith: First of all, EVERYTHING is better pantsless. Try it and see if you can possibly disagree. You can’t.
Second: Yamazaki: Yum! I have a bottle of 12 year downstairs; I’ll sip some tonight in your honor.
Third: I am not superstitious about pants. You can’t be superstitious when science itself tells us pants are unnatural.
Melanie: My middle finger is deformed from holding pens all these years as well. I kind of like it! But then I think all my deformities give me “character”. My wife, er, disagrees. 🙂
Sarah: My parents told me they didn’t have to make any sense when it came to disciplining us. Why do you insist on consistency?
Everytime I start to use a new pen in my journal I allow said implements to introduce themselves as well as their date of first activity. Also I add little profile notes to sort of humanize them and make anyone fool enough to pick up my journal and start to read, a bit more knowledgeable and comfortable with the whole process. (“Cross pen found under seat of rental car in Florida. Retail $40.” “Pine bark pen bought at Ye Outpost, Pioneer Trail (Rt. 2), Massachusetts. $3.50.” “Fingertip ring pen, given to me by lady friend into ‘novelties.’ Gratis” Etc.) So I am faithful to no one pen. Neither was James Michener, by the way. When I visited his home/museum and looked at his workspace and desk he had hundreds of pens, perhaps only a few similar to each other. I have no idea how many pairs of pants he owned. Hemingway on the other hand used a pencil, I think. But of course, he did a lot of things the way he did just to be a pain in the butt. As for pants, I think he was partial to khakis.
Unlike Melanie, I am laughing. But with you, not at you, Jeff. 🙂
Patty: That’s what they all say!
Mock you? Well, ok, but no.
Not when I sent a minion to the store more than twice for the right kind of pen.
Also, you still got it.
Janet: Aw, shucks. But you haven’t seen my latest manuscript about vampire kittens! IT’S GOING TO BE A RUNAWAY BESTSELLER!
Given what sells a million copies on Amazon these days “runaway bestseller” isn’t what it used to be.
I like the pen post, being a creature of habit myself. Sure I use various pens, and notebooks, and also write mostly digitally now, but still journal regularly and am quite obsessive about it. My fav pen is a Tombow by the way, $20, just bought my third, then hurt my index finger playing softball and now it hurts to write. The gods, they torment me.
Jay: I’ll check out the Tombow pens, see if any catch my eye. I too do most of my work digitally these days, but like to handwrite short works. Plus the keyboarding forces me to pay attention to each word.
You have a fabulous blog! I want to award you the Brilliant Writer Blog Award for all the hard work you do!
Go to http://astorybookworld.blogspot.com/p/awards.html and pick up your award.
~Deirdra