Life of Wry

[Unrelated photo.  Shot up into the air.  A gratuitous sky shot.  But, seriously, wouldn’t you?]

One month into my photo-a-day writing extravaganza, and ohmysweetfrickingod but I’m weary of my own voice.  Talk talk talk blah blah blah.    I am tiring of my writing style.  (Uh.. really?  I have a style?)

As I muster the stomach to read back on stuff I’ve written so far, I’m noticing some weird writing ticks.  [Note to self: do not read back on stuff you’ve written so far.]  I see that one of the things I do over and over is use a lot of words to drive a point. Here’s an example (taken from January 3, but really–as much as I don’t want to point this out–you’ll see this kind of thing all over this blog):

“Forever, it seemed, I looked at this scene from the other side–the working stiff side–and totally envied it.  To be that person, sitting with that other person, bent intently over mugs of frothy coffee, thoughtfully listening, talking eruditely, laughing, or gesticulating classily.

“Or really, I just envied having the time. Downtime, leisure time. Time to walk, talk, think, read, write, process, plan, and the time to carry out those plans.”

Holy verbosity, batman.

I’m a word rustler.. a word harvester.. a word collector.. a… wait, SEE?! I’M DOING IT AGAIN.   I have discovered that I am a lister.  (Hangs head.)  Hello, I’m Kari Peterson.  I am a lister.

Maybe I’m a lazy writer. Perhaps I just don’t have the vocabulary, the thesaurical depth to finely hone an idea, to present it in its simplest, most potent form. Maybe I’m a writer who trades elegance for spaghetti on the wall–throw as many words at a sentence as you can; something will stick, something, eventually, will carry home your damn point.

Maybe.

Or perhaps, it’s more a lack of confidence.  Not having the faith that my writing stands on its own, or is strong enough to convey what it has to convey.  Maybe, in my uncertainty and cautiousness, I feel a need to rally the troops, enlist the whole, friggin infantry, in order to conduct my battle effectively. (War metaphors?  Really?)

Well, anyway.

What I REALLY intended to do with today’s blog was to embrace my inner lister.  All I was gonna do, before I veered off into self flagellation, was to list a few things I really love.  I’m a lister?  Okay, well, then, I’m going to compile a list of things I love.

Why?  Because I saw someone do it once in her blog and it was sweet, spontaneous and interesting, and in the process revealed a lot about her.  It was a departure from thick and lofty prose, a simple list–easy on the eyes and mind.   And I just liked the idea.  I filed it away then, and thought I’d try it now.  But I guess not now.   This has gotten too long.

So… a blog for another day.. but soon.