Spider Prophet

Finding the motivation to write is sometimes the hardest part.

Personally, I would argue that writing is a lot like going to the gym. When you do it often and regularly, it makes you feel great. You’re mind is clear, you feel more motivated and you’re ready to go back for more. However, if you stop going for a week, the sluggishness takes over and you find that it is that much more difficult to make youself interval-jog at 7 AM.

There may be some readers who find such a statement odd. Shouldn’t writing be like this incredible experience that just flows from the writer? All that a scribe has to do is sit at a desk with a pen, typewriter or keyboard and they’re off! I think that this view is rather uncommon, if not implausible all together. We don’t all just free write with an inner monologue like Carrie Bradshaw.

I’d argue that most writers don’t experience that easy of a time when they write at all. In fact, I think that for most writers, writing is a lot of work, and if done right, kind of painful. To bring us back to the gym metaphor, and probably not unlike what the mind actually is, writing is exercising a muscle (not that anyone hasn’t heard this before, but some may have not, so work with me here). And no, I don’t mean your hand . When writing, one uses their brain similarly to how a person works out their biceps with a set of free weights. And if you’re doing it well, you’re upping the weights and getting more strength out of it. Yeah, the finished product looks great, but it takes a hell of a lot of work to get there.

And I guess the point of this, was to re-exercise my brain. Damn does that feel better.

- Spider

The first time I ever heard the phrase “wanderlust”, I immediately thought that it was a sickness. Some disease that people contracted through exposure to some element and was incredibly gruesome. It was life-ending, in the same way that masturbating in-between meetings and getting caught is. Exhilarating, filled with titillating fear, possibly euphoric, and if you get caught by your boss, career ruining. I also knew that I had it.

Now, I don’t mean this in the same way that my minor hypochondria makes me think that I’ve contracted the non-existant Ploxodisium syndrome. I mean that when I heard the word, there was an almost prescient knowledge of it’s meaning and my deep understanding that I knew what it was. And while hearing the phrase made me better understand myself, I needed to hear it before I knew that I could identify myself (or that I could use it to identify a part of myself) underneath it. I need that connection again to explain my hunger for the entire planet.

In talking with my friend Stefanie, we came to understand that we both “want everything, no?” That is to say, we have an unquenchable desire to make goals and plans and strive for just about anything that we can imagine. Whether it’s our first-generation upbringing, our Latino heritage or whatever it may be, we both have it and are at its whim. However, having it’s definition doesn’t help without having it’s name. What would the name of the desire to be everything, or I suppose, the desire to dream of everything come from? It feels at times as though we would simply devour the world if we could. As if take in all the dirt, salty water and air would create the realization we’ve been going after.

However, if I have learned anything from philosophy, it is this: the problem with desire is that it only exists in the action of wanting. A person does not, cannot, desire what they already want. What could possibly satiate us after devouring an entire planet? Perhaps we’d simply move on to more heavenly bodies. Dibs on Jupiter.

- Spider

Tonight is the launch of the LWC}NYC (Literary Writer’s Conference) at the New School in New York City. As an intern for the organization running the event, I get to sit in on the various panels and discussions for the next few days, featuring various magazine editors, publishers, literary agents and, of course, writers.

The second event for the season (the first being a Spelling Bee featuring notable people from the literary scene) is meant to bring together (literary) writers from all over the area. Give them a sort of fundamentals boot camp in what they can expect as they try to break into the writing world, whether you do fiction, poetry or creative non-fiction, it’s a chance to get with other like-minded individuals with similar goals as you.

- Spider

Within my first two days of working in Office I was obscured from sight about four times. By the end of my first week, I totaled at eleven. Two weeks: nineteen. Three weeks: thirty-two. “Are these accurate numbers?” the reader may ask. Did I create an excel spreadsheet to properly track my instances of invisibility? No. But you should still take my word on the figures, since I probably down-played how often it actually did (and continues to) occur.

And let me tell you reader, no Disillusionment Charm or Invisibility Cloak borrowed from Potter could work any better.

I’ve been working for four separate offices for a little over a month now and it seems to hold no end. Their power either rises from the fact that they’re in a foul mood or that they’ve decided that whatever bochinche they’re about to spill is so important, that it will block my ears as they speak it.

This was the most recent scene:

I’m standing at a filing cabinet and am putting away some books. As I slip the last book into it’s place, I turn to see the head of the department walk into the office. I say good morning and he responds with something between a grunt, word and mumble. How one could manage so many different tones is beyond me. I ignore the near-response and return to my seat. He begins to speak with the person I share the office space with. I go about my checking my packets and reading e-mails until my ears pick up on:

“… and you should have Miguel go around the building and ask everyone for their copy.”

I’m sitting right there. Less than two feet away from him. I just finished saying good morning to the man and he talks as if he can’t see that I’m there. Once he began talking, I somehow spontaneously teleported out of the room so that he could speak freely.

At these moments, all I want to do is shout out in the name of self-respect and common decency, but I know that those are not currencies that run very well in the publishing world. Or any office for that matter. You’re built up on careful plotting and precise execution.

Personally, I’d worry more if my underlings developed cruel streaks, as should others.

- Spider