BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I was going to call this “It’s Just An Egg Sandwich…”, but then I had one of those moments of inspiration. Either that, or gas, I’m not sure which. In any event, I’m hoping Kurt Vonnegut will forgive me for throwing down some massa-cree on his title. After all, I did use the short version*. That should count for something.

So it goes**… Why was I going to call this entry “It’s Just An Egg Sandwich…”? Well, that’s fairly simple, actually. Mostly because I happened upon the idea of writing it while I was in the middle of fixing myself an egg sammich… On whole wheat… With cheese… And ‘mater. Kinda makes you hungry, eh?

So it goes…  The whole egg sammich thing was one of those, “Oh yeah, that again… maybe I should write about it,” moments. You know, sort of like Deja Vu, but not. Mostly because I don’t allow my deja to be vued.  It’s way too personal.

So it goes… I was standing there fixing myself an egg sammich when it suddenly dawned on me that at some unknown point in the future I would be doing something equally mundane, but that I would just as suddenly flash on the fact that I had once been standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and thinking about the fact that at some unknown point in the future I would be thinking about this moment in time and wondering where all the time that was in between had gotten off to; whereupon I would then think about the fact that I was standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and… Well… I think you get the idea.

And why did I suddenly flash on all that? Well, because in the instant prior to that flash there had been another flash. Not the expose yourself kind, mind you… Although, in a way I suppose it was. Nope… This was another of those flashes in the brainpan.

So it goes… I was standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and thinking about the fact that at some unknown point in the future I would be doing something equally mundane, but that I would just as suddenly flash on the fact that I had once been standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and thinking about the fact that at some unknown point in the future I would be thinking about this moment in time and wondering where all the time that was in between had gotten off to, because I had just flashed on something I had done in the past that was equally mundane while having the very same sort of thought…

And… So it goes… My world falls in upon itself like a shattered mirror, reflecting back what was, what is, and what will be.

Maybe I should change my name to Billy Pilgrim… But then I’d have to get killed by a gullible moron – of course, that’s Kurt’s story, not mine…

I think maybe I should just keep writing. It seems Kurt and I have a lot in common where style and satire are concerned. Hell, we both even have critics that hate us because we don’t follow their rules, and you know what? That suits me just fine… I bet it did Kurt, too. I’ll ask him when I get to the other side. I suspect that is a ways off yet, however, I’m willing to bet I’ll by lying there in my bed thinking about the time I was fixing myself an egg sammich and flashing on the thought that I would one day be doing…

So it goes…

More to come…

Murv

* The actual full title of Slaughterhouse Five is: Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty Dance with Death.

** “So it goes” is a commonly repeated expression employed by Vonnegut in the book, Slaughterhouse Five.

One of the questions I get asked on a regular basis is –

Murv… Sellars… How is it… That you… Are able to keep… Things straight… When you are… Writing?

As a rule, the odd hesitations between words and phrases sort of freaks me out, but I just figure the person asking was doing way too much Uncle Cidney in their teens while listening to Steve Martin comedy albums. All of us old farts will get that reference, trust me.

But anyway… (No, not a Blues Traveler ref, although it could be)… I usually explain that I am what’s called a “Seat of the Pants” writer. That means I have an idea, I know how it starts and kind of know how I want it to end. I might even know a couple of things I’d like to have happen in between, but the journey to get there isn’t really plotted until I sit down and start taking dictation from my characters.

Now, to keep things straight for them, I have books. As in binders that contain biographical data, etc. Mostly because since I write a series I have to be able to stay in touch with the arc and maintain canon (one n, not two, meaning it doesn’t go boom unless I screw up.)

However, I have to stay on track for a given story arc within a novel as well. That’s where rectangles come in.

“Rectangles?” you ask.

“Yes, rectangles,” I answer.

Behold – the incredible, versatile, and really especially cool, Index Card…

Don't bother trying to enlarge it. I blurred all the info, mwuhahaha...

So there’s your answer… I have a corkboard, a pencil, some pushpins, and a whole lot of index cards…

Bet ya’ thought I was talking about dextroamphetamine when you saw that title, didn’t you? Awww, c’mon Eileen. You know better than that…

More to come…

Murv