On Writing Fiction and Non-fiction

Well, it has been a hell of a week or two. A lot has happened – the most significant thing was my laptop went crazy. Well, not stupid, crazy. It was more of a blank stare. The whole screen went black. I checked the symptoms online, and the article said it happened to Windows 7 O.S.

Before it happened, I had already been having trouble with my laptop. The damn thing had been shutting down at odd times for several weeks. The upshot of the random shenanigans is, they resulted in my backing up of my different Works in Progress (WIP). With that said, I had a good backup for the stuff on which I’ve been working.

God, It burns the piss out of me to have things break down. I have this ignorant rogue feeling as if there is a cosmic plan reaching out to tap me on the back of my head. I’m sure that isn’t true. It just seems that way. I’m neither a solipsistic person nor paranoid.

Oh, well, screw it. The experience is over, and I’m just glad that I had everything backed up on a zip drive. The result was I had a cosmic plan warning me the damn equipment was going bat shit.

Let me go back to my musings.

I have a slew of guppy thoughts swimming around in my skull. It is like fishing with a line and a hook to grab hold of what I want. There is the weather, kids at home (one is singing her favorite song from Frozen right this moment). You know, a slew of other things.

Amid these swimming thoughts I have three projects going, if you don’t count my blog. The Works in Progress (WIP) are I’m correcting the last edit of my next novel, I’m writing the first draft of my original non-fiction book, and I can’t forget the rough draft of my next novel. The hardest part of three WIPs is going from non-fiction to fiction and vice versa. For some reason, my brain must flip around to make that switch.

It puts me off stride. It is like when I first landed in Korea. I had to use the loo, the head, W.C., bathroom (although there was neither a bath nor shower in this comfort station). Anyway, I needed to use the urinal.

As I stood at the urinal, staring a hole in the wall before me, I became aware of a jolly-round Korean woman, much shorter than me. She was wiping down the porcelain I was utilizing. She looked up at me. “Nice day, today. Isn’t it?”

As I said, it put me off stride. Hell. I had to fall back and regroup. I wasn’t used to that.

A similar thing happens when I flip back and forth between fiction and non-fiction. I don’t think I will write both extremes simultaneously for a long time. Switching gears is much too hard to do smoothly. Wait a moment. It might be that I’m not used to it. If that is the case, I might be able to become used to it.

Does that mean I need to do it more? It isn’t uncomfortable for me when I switch to and from my blog, and that doesn’t bother me. Perhaps it is because the subject matter is so different. I love writing fiction, and when I write it, I feel like I am fulfilling myself.

The non-fiction is a bit different. Writing that seems more personal. It makes me scoop up things I found during heavy contemplation, stuff about which I don’t usually talk. This type of reflection happens when I meditate, and my habit with that is I keep silent. Years ago, I learned it is better not to talk about it. Anyway, writing this thing is like scraping my bones. While it is uplifting to put the words and ideas down on paper, it is also correct. There is a rightness about it. To understand what I’m talking about, you will have to read the book.

I hope those that do read it will enjoy what is said. Please keep watch here. I will keep everyone posted.

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