There is a problem being a writer that is often missed by the general reading public. Sometimes one becomes so immersed in the alter universe that is in the process of being born from the writer’s imagination, that contact with the face-to-face world is rather sketchy. When one adds age into the mix, it’s a wonder that anything gets finished. An example comes to mind. I play online chess with several of my grandsons during this COVID19 pandemic. Since we can’t play at my table, or theirs, online chess becomes the best option to find some reason to engage on a somewhat regular basis. Well, my grandsons have come to know that when I am deep into writing or editing, I am an easy mark. My attention span becomes very limited. Since the first of November, I have lost all but three games. One of those victories was against an eleven year old, an event that was quickly replaced by a loss that was brutal in execution.
Now, just so that you don’t get the idea that this post is about chess, it isn’t. It is about a tenuous presence in the face-to-face world. Well, to be more specific, my tenuous presence. I have just emerged from the alter-world of a future where children can go to space cadet schools, go to visit astronauts on a space station, and work towards being selected to attend the school at the lunar colony, the story from NaNoWriMo. I sent out the story to two pre-teens and got positive feedback, which then had me re-immerse myself in the tale to do yet another edit. Finally, after two edits, I felt comfortable enough to send it out for editing.
For almost a day, I returned to planet earth to be more present with … wait, there is no one here extra because of COVID19! I quickly retreated into another alter-universe, one that existed, in my imagination, 1000 years ago. It was a story I began years ago and never finished. Then, I woke up this morning, four weeks after my last post here with the intention of writing up this post for my scheduled slot here at Naturist Lens. I didn’t know, yet, that I had missed that time slot a week earlier. I had the time to write up a post, and I even had ideas for the post. But, I continued to slip into the world of thirteen-year-old astronaut want-to-be boys and girls.
It wasn’t until I saw a post already sitting in the “to-be-published” queue that it dawned on me that I had been missing-in-action. So much for good intentions. But With Paul being Paul, and Will being Will, I don’t have to worry about being kicked off the team here at Naturist Fiction. These guys are too nice for that sort of behaviour. They are so nice, I am ready to nominate them for honorary Canadian status. All that they need to master is saying “eh” and “I’m sorry.”
Well, with that out of the way, I can get to writing up this post for Naturist Fiction. Naturally, it required that I was comfortably ensconced in a proper location, such in my rocking chair in front of my fireplace, and nude of course. Then, as usual, I dither around with ideas until my coffee gets cold and needs reheating in the microwave oven. It then dawns on me that I could weigh in on some sort of serious topic such as the #GreatReset. What if that great reset was about resetting our world back to 1347 AD [an idea Annette said to me. Yes, that same Annette that wrote a story for Murder in the Nudist Colony]? I mean go back and redo our human story where nudity was the norm when weather permitted. Of course, I had to add this caveat as it is windy and wintry outside with the streets covered in ice. There’s no way even I would dare to walk barefoot outdoors, let alone bare everything. Still, it is a worthy idea.
A writer’s mind in action. It’s not a pretty sight to see. In actuality, it is probably worse to experience than watch. One of the greatest tragedies of having a writer’s mind is all of the forgotten cups of too-often reheated cups of coffee abandoned in a microwave oven. Of course, not all writers are like me. Some have very organised minds. Some remember things, have lists and spreadsheets that are actually used to guide their writing. Since I am a pantser [writing by the seat of my non-existent pants] plans are another one of those good intentions. [Oh, just a side note before I forget: pantsing is also an action that signifies pulling down someone else’s pants as a prank – usually done by guys in high school – remember, I know things because I was a high school principal.]
I see that I have done it again, gone sideways. If you have any serious questions about this post, direct them to either Paul or Will. They may be able to find me the help I need to recover my mind.
9 thoughts on “A Nude Writer’s Mind”
As far as the writing community goes, I am still a babe in diapers. But, I have experienced the same experience as you described. Finding one foot in the present and the other in tge mystical frontier of the mind is not only refreshing, but daunting, for I find myself not as responsive to my significant other as I should be. And. That is not a good thing!
Definitely not a good thing. I still find myself falling into that relationship blackhole. LOL!
The mind of the naked writer — too true, Robert: getting immersed in putting ideas onto the page about life in a clothes-free world, then realizing that, alas, once again the coffee-cup beside at one’s right hand has gotten undrinkably tepid; then getting up from the keyboard to go down to the kitchen to warm it up in the micro-wave … which brings the writer through the coldest part of the house, offering another less pleasant reminder to the naked writer that the writer is, indeed, well, naked … then getting to the microwave only to open it and find another stone-cold cup of coffee sitting there. Are such writers in danger of losing their minds as well as their clothes? No: just living out, for a while, an alternative narrative about life in a warmer world where naked life is just a bit easier. Well, I guess there are some things that a naked pioneer has just got to” tough out,” eh? (Or does that bring us too close to the men’s issues stuff you write about in your own parallel universe?)
Both universes, Allen, in both universes.
You’re a gem, Robert. I’d never throw you out.
Whew! But then again, you’re a writer too, and a nude one at that.
A fun post, Robert! Your writing projects sound very interesting.
When I was young, I would get tired of opening the microwave to warm something up and finding my grandma’s abandoned mug of coffee – to the extent that I couldn’t stand coffee at all, not even the smell. Of course, anyone can see where this is going: I learned to love coffee as an adult, and now I consume it every morning, and yes sometimes I have the microwave forgetfulness problem myself!
It was intended just as that, Will – fun. Poking fun at oneself is vital therapy. It’s much better than poking the bear of the collective unconscious that is running rampant in our modern world.
Sometimes it works the other way around. The coffee is always hot, so to speak. Too much engagement with external things due to work and daily responsibilities. The world of the imagination is not visited enough. To create some balance recently, I’ve been making time to lose myself in fiction (reading that is).
I agree though – in front of the keyboard, it is all to easy to float away and not notice time passing.