Deadly Ever After

Why I Like To Not Like Some Stuff

TODAY’S BREW: Still working on this Walmart stuff. I think souls were ground up into it.

By Julie


Springtime is a beautiful thing, yes? Baby things, and stunning flowers that suck out my will to live with their pollen, and blazing fucking heat that drains my essence. Sweating for no reason with the promise of more sweat to come. This, right here, is the sun to me.

An evil, dreaded thing that plays nice by giving you the gift of tanktops, but only so it can burn you half to death.  It makes you feel like because “it’s nice out” that you have to go out and Do All The Things when I would really prefer to wear sweats and play inside with coffee and children.

Sun and springtime and summer especially tend to give me a momentary writer’s block. I lack in creativity. It’s hard to motivate myself to come up with something new. Until I remind myself every year that inspiration doesn’t just come in the form of beautiful things that we love.

It’s awesome to dislike stuff.

With a bit of mind training (insert hypno-eyes here), it is possible to create inspiration out of the things you dislike/loathe/despise. That little pic of the sun for instance. Describe what you don’t like about it. (This is quickly turning into an exercise you can do at home.) How does it make you feel? What colors would you call it? What kind of people would live under a sun like this? Would they be happy there, or oppressed? Would there be a hero there who loved rain, and exuded freshness of a spring shower? What does she do to save the people from the sun that threatened to eat them all alive?

Sure, this won’t turn into a novel for me, or anything but what it is right here, but it gets the mind to working. When you are uninspired, suffering depression, suffering in general, try to write down—on paper—what you don’t like about the feeling. One word answers, in the form of colors, or spirit animals, or terrible foods. I hate the feeling of staring at a plate of meatloaf. Unidentified meatstuffs made into something with no better title than “loaf” to be worthy of. Brown, lusterless, dry.  Now, try to make meatloaf (not Meatloaf, the bard) into a person. What would he look like? Dull, brown hair, coffee stained teeth, dead behind the eyes. What would he do for a living? Office work. Sad office work. What would he drive? Where would he live? What kind of things would he own, cherish, if anything?

NOW. Give this dull bastard a really cool trait. Something that is totally unexpected. He saves exotic reptiles from careless owners and nurses them to health. He has a photographic memory, but it only works with faces of the dead. He collects the teeth of sexual predators. He’s in love with his nurse neighbor who mercy kills old people at a local hospital.

Alternatively, having something you dislike often conjures up images of things you love and long for. This poor man may live in a colorless world of his own making because he’s obsessed with Christmas and can only be happy once a year. Now dig to the root of his problem by asking lots of questions. What in particular does he love about Christmas? The lights. What do the lights remind him of? Who does it remind him of being with? Where did they go?

Again, this is how you can turn those moments when you have nothing new going into something that gets your brain working. It may or may not become something huge for you. It may just join a pile of notebooks with half written descriptions in them. But it will be creative. The only way to be creative is to always push the creativity out. Look for inspiration in new things.

I once was stuck for new ideas, and realized I was going to the same places that I loved to write. I was wearing the same clothes I loved to write in. I was drinking the same coffee from the same place, reading the same kind of books. And it dawned on me.

How can I expect to create something new if I don’t surround myself with new things to drive me?

Put on a new shirt. Maybe you hate it, but how would you describe the way it makes you feel? It’s all training. All pushing limits, sometimes in the smallest ways you can imagine.

Now go outside and enjoy the heartless demon sun like you’re supposed to. I’m going to write about it.


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3 thoughts on “Why I Like To Not Like Some Stuff


    I am officially working this into my revisions, the stifling heat. Then I’m going to spend five minutes being grateful that this isn’t the 1700’s, and I don’t have to wear a floor-length wool skirt, wool stockings, long-sleeved shirt, and 93 layers of undergarments. Hooray, modern times!

  2. It’s amazing the human race survived. Imagine the smell. So not sexy.


  3. Also, as a related side note, it’s also fun to like things no one else does.


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