When Thoughts Go Wild and All Comes Out

 Disclaimer: The following blog post contains words and ideas not planned too far ahead before being written down and hastily edited. As such, undiluted rambling and distinctive lack of a fixed topic may be experienced.

Reader discretion is advised.

So you decided to brave it anyway. Thanks, I guess. Your belief in me is my inspiration and all that. Here we go.

Believe it or not, it isn’t always that I start writing with a fixed point in mind when it comes to my blog posts.

Sure, the last few ones found me lucky enough to actually have some sort of a point to stick to. Dragons, the latest form of head banging, roaches… there was a point, and I (more or less, admittedly) stuck to it.

Here, though, not so much. Nope, not a single idea on what I want to write about, and I sit with my hands moving and my fingers dancing and I see these words type themselves onto this page, the keys being pressed repeatedly at a good enough rate to ensure steady rhythm and a smooth flow of words.

The strangest thing about that smooth flow is that I have no idea what I’m about to write next. These words pouring out of me, they are instantaneous and as such have no more than a few fifteen seconds worth of planning before them. With little and no knowledge of what’s in store for both you and me at this point, here’s to buckling up and adjusting scuba masks before delving into the depths of my gibberish.

Here we go.

This isn’t the first time I've done some mindless blathering without any clear indication as to where I wanted to go, no. It was sort of what I pretty much expected to do when I started this blog all those months ago. It’s also how I managed to come up with a title for my blog in the fifteen seconds that I did. And that’s mostly what I expected to deliver here; the ramblings and the ravings, along with everything else in between, and around, and next to, and so on and so forth.

A couple of times, I also started writing with a semi-fixed topic in mind; and then as the paragraphs kept flowing, I ended up poking something completely different. Case in point: the time I wanted to pick out the differences in Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock and the Jonny Lee Miller’s Elementary. (And before you fans start taking up your pitchforks, I love them both. Yes, I do, they’re awesome for different reasons, now shoo)

That post ended up dealing with something else entirely, and even as I read it now, I have not a clue what point it came to there. Two things strike me right now:

One, I never did get that Cumberbatch vs Miller Sherlock comparison post done (adding to playlist).

And two, a few weeks down the road, this post is probably going to look to me then as demented as that one is now. Ah, well. Moving on.

Ooh, I just remembered something. But, well, it’s a lot more depressing than I made it sound right there. Remember that challenge I was harping about last week?

I came in second, essentially losing the Grudge Match to Jordan Bell. True, I did win the popular vote where you guys helped me out (thank you. Totally needed that). The judges, though, weren’t too happy with my all dialogue piece, and they punished me accordingly.

But see, this is the reason why I love being a part of the Iron Writers. With the four random elements, you never really know what you’re in for beforehand. And when you get them, you are free to choose whatever it is you want to write (except erotica, thankfully). I take it as a chance to experiment with different genres I would otherwise not try at all.

My style of blog post writing, for example. I never thought I’d be much good at humor when I first started writing. I’m not saying that I’m any better at it right now, but at the very least, it’s readable. Right?

If you lose a challenge, well, there’s always next time. As a bonus, you get to figure out what works for you and what doesn't. After all, practice makes perfect, and it's the mistakes you do that makes you remember not to do them again.

There was something else that also happened.

A few days ago… I finally told my sister, my older sister, about The Weaver.

I know, I know. I meant to let it grow for a little more, maybe plunge a few inches more of root into the ground and have a few more leaves out before she saw the tree of the first time. But you know how they say to never try and plan something out before it happens?

Never try to plan something out before it happens.

Now, she knows I write, but the as far as she knew, I was still working on my trilogy, redoing it on keyboard, and pretty much nothing else.

 I showed her the site, pretending it was something I found out of the blue. With much persuasion, she read the first post I gave her, with a little more persuasion, she read a second. It wasn’t till the third one that she realized it was me. Well, it could have been worse.

But the funny aside… she liked it. She really did. And I know that she’s reading this right now, but that’s not going to change the way I’m writing this in any way. See, I knew from the start that she would be seeing my posts sooner or later. You could say I have been writing for her to see all along, but I’d rather you didn’t. Like all elder siblings (myself included) she is fond of rubbing it in, and I’d rather not give her more ammo than reasonable.

Um. Guys. Don’t peg me as an emotional dude. I’m not. No wait… I’m serious… I’m not emotional, I was just… sigh, never mind.

Good grief. I’ve actually written a whole post here. Isn't it amazing what you can do when you let your mind descend into senseless nonsense? (Oh, ignore the double negative, that combination there sounds pretty good to me in the partial  slumber I am receding into right now)