On Saturdays, at the Write Practice, we like to do the opposite of what we've done during the week. Why? Because what do we know? We're trying to figure out this writing thing just like you are. The fact that we have a Top 10 Blog for Writers doesn't mean we know what we're talking about 100% of the time. So we feel that if we do the opposite every once in a while, it might average out in our favor.
Also, because doing the opposite is fun.
Earlier this week, we talked about how to capture more life in your writing. To me, the opposite of more life is not more death. Death can be exceedingly interesting: skulls, the hair and fingernails that never stop growing, decay, and plenty of existential thoughts about the nature of life in a world with death. No, instead the true opposite of that post is how to capture more ennui in your writing.
Ennui. Noun. Pronounced EN-you-ee.
A feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom.
(according to dictionary.com)
I first heard this word from a homeless man, an author who wrote a book about his experience on the streets, and described it as a life of mind-destroying ennui.
Yes, this upcoming practice will be boring.
Why should you do it? Because everyone is bored at some point. You should know how to describe their experience in as interesting a way as possible.
Good luck!
PRACTICE
Sit in your house and stare at the least interesting wall you have.
Describe what you see, feel, and hear.
Write for fifteen minutes. When you're finished, post your practice in the comments.
Who invented beige? What a dull color. What a stupid word. Like, make up your mind already! Either clean up your act and become white, or go for it and embrace your brown. Beige just shows a lack of decision on your part.
My stomach growls, but it’s not time for lunch. What makes my stomach growl? Is it just an internal fart? Stomach growls are the beige of farts and burps! Come up or go down, either way, just make up your mind.
I sit here wondering about what to do next. Should I exercise or should I shower? Maybe I’ll do both, or perhaps I’ll do neither. Maybe it’s just going to be a beige kind of day.
I just have to giggle at this. The second part about stomach growlings and farts remind me of my kidlets, and I am always astounded at their interest in the things that I find mindless. Is that how their minds work, I wonder?
And beige of all colors!
I love the line, “Stomach growls are the beige of burps and farts.”
I like how you move from the middling non-committal nature of beige to the area where gas collects in the stomach (is that what really causes growls) to exercising and showering, and it is easy to follow. Maybe that’s a sign of a good writer to keep one reading and saying, uh-huh, even when the relationship between the topics is tenuous.
Interesting thought there, Marianne.
This is great. I like how you address the color as if they were a person who couldn’t make up their mind.
The second paragraph, as you know, is hilarious.
I like how you’ve made beige into the theme of this little section. Very clever. This kind of thing could be the beginning of a chapter. You could transition from that last sentence into the action of the chapter.
This is an extraordinary blog and so glad I found it!!!
My wall….
When I chose the wall paper for a bedroom, I thought it pretty. Now the room has become my office and the paper on the wall behind my desk is too repetitive to inspire creativity, shaded in colors too soft to inspire brilliance. The moderate stripes laid out like rulers become railroad tracks in my mind. I hear the clickety clack but sense no destination. The tiny vining flowers that looked so delicate and graceful for sleeping now seem to be ropes choking down my inspiration. Then a lone little daisy beckons to me…causes me to spin a story about a fictional Daisy. The paper fades…the keyboard looms…a story begins.
Stripes and vines, I can see it now. You make me wonder about who designs wallpaper. I like “colors to soft to inspire brilliance”, brilliant being a word that applies to color and writing and thought. Thanks
I like that even the most mundane, uninspirational, and even distracting thing (the wall paper) becomes inspirational… I guess inspiration is always waiting; it’s just a matter of whethere or not you’re ready for it.
Sitting in a coffee shop studying, so I picked a wall there.
It makes sense that the walls are brown. It’s a coffee shop after all. Coffee is brown. This is a coffee shop, a coffee shop with brown walls. Walls the exact color of a cup of coffee with a little cream. Typical. The brown doesn’t really fit the mood though. This place can actually get pretty exciting with all the people coming in and out all day long. A spring green or an orange might be more suitable. Maybe even both, or a different color on every wall. But when the place is empty, like it is now, I think the brown is fitting. It is one of the lighter shades of brown I’ve encountered in the wide world of paint chips. It can’t quite be called tan yet, but it is a warmer brown than most. Look around this place when it is empty and the warm walls are a lot more fitting. Look at that brown from behind piles of reading for various college courses you won’t remember ten years down the road and it is a comforting brown. A brown that warms you up. Under your quilt, warmth starts on the outside and works its way in. This warmth starts inside, somewhere deep in your belly. And maybe it’s the place where the coffee kicks in, but maybe it’s just being in a place more peaceful than the quietest morning, more serene than the clearest ocean. A place that smells of coffee. Coffee and laughter and home.
Well now I’m going to have to start another pot and it’s four o’clock, maybe I’ll do decaf. I like how you moved from boredom to comfort, what a positive way to look at things! Thanks !
My wall is dirty. Every six months or so I attempt to give it a scrub, but nothing comes off. Especially the boogers.
I hate boogers. Boogers are like glue. They should market boogers rather than glue because as long as there are children there will be boogers, and boogers are a renewable resource. They will never give out. And the nice thing about boogers is that if you want something to stick, they are up to the job. Not only that, but boogers also come in array of colors, and all produced by the nose, with some help from the little finger that retrieved the booger, uh, glue.
That’s not all that is on my wall. I have a multiplication chart on my wall, too. And a hundred number chart, and a number line, and the ABCs in Zaner-Bloser manuscript. And I’ll let you in on a secret, I hate elementary school products. That’s because they don’t use boogers for their glue-line. I should have fastened the charts to my wall with that homemade glue.
Man, talk about a biological weapon
Oh my! What young children will do to our minds. I have cats and they sneeze on everything (like the windows), so I know what you mean in a way. I”ll tell you a trick, white vinegar and water (about two parts water to one part vinegar) will take of anything. I think it will anyway.
So true, Kinelta! When we moved my sons bunk beds we discovered an entire wall caked with 4 years of boogers. We had to scrape, spackle and repaint!
My walls are a dreary mess. I really need to paint or wallpaper.
The most boring wall in this house is periwinkle blue – that’s what the relator called it – with white trim. It has bits of tape where posters of the Ramones, and Jimi Hendrix, and Kurt Cobain were stuck to it by my child when she was younger. It isn’t a delicate pale periwinkle but more of a lilac color, maybe even orchid. It screamed at me when I first met it, made me feel claustrophobic despite it’s windows, but now it has been yelling for so long that I’m immune to it, deaf to it’s bright gaudiness. It stands out as duller than even the taupe and the cream walls that live near it because it has no delicacy, it doesn’t lead my eyes, nor let them wander. It makes me close them. It’s like living with a boring yet obnoxious relative that talks so much that you know they are boring. If it would be quiet, like the neutral walls, I might be able to attribute some mystery to it, but it continues to tell the same old one note boring story.
I love “It’s like living with a boring yet obnoxious relative that talks so much that you know they are boring.” Great analogy. My daughter’s room was also periwinkle blue back in the 90’s. Now everything’s beige 🙁
Boredom. It’s the feeling I was experiencing when I remembered I hadn’t been to The Write Practice today.
It’s not that there’s nothing I should be doing. After all, I’ve not started the writing assignment due Monday, there’s an editing assignment due yesterday that’s only half completed, I’m sure there’s a blogpost that needs to be written, I could find the desk under these heaps of papers, and iPad Solitare is begging for a beating.
Yet still here I sit, my sore rear glued to the chair, my fingers on the keys, and “TheWritePractice.com” loading on my “new tab.” Twitter flickers updates in the background, the email refuses to acknowledge new messages, and facebook is always ready for stalking. I think there are some mint M&Ms in the kitchen that need consuming.
Or walls that need repainting. This stencil was outdated when we put it on the walls… in 1999. That Christmas tree needs to be de-ornamented. Those cards should hit the mailbox any day now. And why is my desk still such a mess?
Boredom. It’s the feeling when none of the projects that need to be done capture what you want to do with your day. Boredom. It’s the feeling when the most interesting project passes through your desk and you can’t bring yourself to do it. Boredom. It’s the lifestyle of the unemployed.
I might go paint my fence.
I’m right there with you Katie. Have you read “Jamietheveryworstmissionairy” blog about “procrasturbation?”
Yup. That’s me. Thanks for the reference! Although, I would like to say: I do get everything done ontime. (Those edits that were due yesterday weren’t really due yesterday… they’re due when I get them done… which could have been yesterday… but wasn’t).
It’s hard to find a place to look where there isn’t a window that frames a beautiful picture of sunshine filtering through green leaves.
There is no dull wall. There is no empty wall in the 280 square foot space that my husband and I call home. Every wall has windows or mirrors that reflect windows.
If I concentrate on the area below the windows, it’s not empty either. Every wall has stuff, built ins or folding tables or things piled against it.
It’s should be a perfect place for a simple lifestyle, but every wall has all these unwanted “shoulds.” I “should” sort that pile of papers and books. I “should” get a different file box that isn’t as ugly as that plastic one. Why does the vacuum have to reside there? I “should” find another place it could live. Things need places to live in such a small house and I should do better.
I should be able to see this wall for what it is, a not particularly attractive, but utilitarian space, but when I let the “shoulds” leak in, this wall devolves into another failure.
What an interesting meditation. It’s almost as if I tricked you into being bored, and worse, stressed. Sorry about that. You can look out the window, if you want.
However, I do like the way this shows how our eyes can turn from looking at the beauty around us to looking at burden and ugliness and pain.
Also, 280 square feet? Dang.