I just spent my weekend not finishing projects. I tried to drain and flush my water heater and was unsuccessful. I spent an hour wearing green flowered latex gloves, crouched on the cold concrete basement floor trying to dislodge mineral buildup with zip strips reminiscent of those law enforcement uses to handcuff criminals. They were the only item we had flexible enough to go up the drain spout and loosen the sediment (I know – I could teach Bob Vilas a thing or two). I have the plumber coming Tuesday. I tried to repair my Kitchenaid stand mixer. A gear wore out and needs to be replaced. I have the part, I just need to remove the old one, but I can’t get a metal pin out. I’m very close to sawing the damn thing out and ordering a new pin (which will probably result in me having to buy a new mixer). And the laundry just never ends. Tomorrow I’m tackling the leaky bathtub faucet. I’m starting to worry this will be another failed project attempt.
So what does this have to do with writing my novel? Everything. Isn’t this novel just another unfinished project looming on my horizon? I have a habit of starting tasks that seem doable. A little research on the internet, a short trip to the hardware store (where the staff of older men always act like I have no idea what I am doing – they might be on to something), and four hours later I’ve made a big mess and no progress.
I like to think I know just enough to be dangerous. I understand how most objects work, and I’m cheap enough that I don’t want to hire someone else to repair an item I (theoretically) can fix. I take pride in being able to do small home repairs. I installed our washer and dryer, I’ve put up many light fixtures, I’ve built a raised herb garden, and I’ve even installed a kitchen faucet (that works perfectly thank you very much). So I find my lack of success this weekend a little soul crushing.
Why can’t I accomplish these seemingly reasonable tasks?
Lately, it’s the same thing with my book. I’ve struggled for weeks to write a scene where my characters visit the art museum. This should be easy. The Calatrava screams “WRITE ABOUT ME”. Its airy light and soaring cathedral ceilings provide ample opportunity for metaphor and imagery. The art gives my characters a chance to discuss all sorts of interesting topics ranging from the silliness of abstract art to love. But I also want this scene to be fun. I envision them cracking jokes about some of the sillier pieces (I’m absolutely referring to the folding chair crushing the yellow doll – what is that?*). To me, laughter and humor is a crucial element of any successful relationship and I want my characters to have that foundation of fun. But fun is not so fun to write. It comes off awkward, stiff, and definitely not funny.
Perhaps, dear reader, what I’m missing here are the right tools. After all, the plumber came and successfully repaired the water heater, a small appliance repairman could fix my Kitchenaid, and I even managed to fix that faucet I mentioned above (you don’t think I write these blogs in one sitting, do you?). All these tasks just required the right tools.
So dear reader, while I try to find my humor tools, I’ll leave you to reflect on the Milwaukee Art museum. Do you have a favorite piece? Is there one that makes you wonder how it qualifies as art?
March 22 Page total – 82
For inquiring minds – last week’s “Et tu, Brute” reference was from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar and the bonus points reference was the Genie in Aladdin. It popped into my head when I realized I was publishing on the Ides of March.
* Turns out, there is more to this than I ever realized. Here is some info from the museum’s website. “New York video artist Tony Oursler is best known for projecting video images of faces on dolls, mannequins, and disembodied heads, thereby bringing to life these otherwise inanimate objects. The Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), a diagnostic tool developed in the 1950s as a test for mental health, is based on the discovery that individuals with similar mental disorders frequently answer the same questions in similar ways. In MMPI (Self-Portrait in Yellow), the projected image shows the artist reciting the test questions. Trapping the head under a folding chair adds to the psychological tension of the work.” Photo is also copied from www.mam.org.
I still think it’s a little silly.
