My heart knows something my brain doesn't know

Ahh yes, even if I can't cobble together a satisfying blog post each Wednesday, there's nothing like an interesting title to satisfy me! This week's blog post is no different. Now I hope that didn't sound self-indulgent, but if I may digress for a while - like I need permission right? ;) - I've always been a big "title-oholic", now you ask, what the heck does that mean? I'll give you a moment to scratch your head, perhaps I'll join you in your confusion as well!

Albeit it is by no means a necessity in the beginning stages, a title for a novella, a short story, a novel, a poem or any other body of creative work, I've always been obsessed with coming up with a title for each novella I write. Why, you ask? I guess because it gives each novella a firmer foundation. And yes, I know, I can write a hundred-plus story on little more than a glimpse of an abandoned house alongside a narrow country highway, or a single detached scene that glistens in my mind like a sparkling web of sunshine atop a wind-rippled lake, only there is a film of gray clouds above, and the water reflects its tones like a solemn tombstone. Oh dear, here come the similes!

But I think a title gives me more of a clearer vision for that particular novella. Enter the current novella I'm working on: the only title I have for it is "the white Victorian story", why that you ask? Well because frankly the main character lives in a white Victorian! And a beautiful one at that, ;). So why doesn't this particular novella have a title? Honestly? I can't even begin to think of one. Usually I'll try to congeal all the things the story is mainly about and try to stretch a thin subject over all of them like crusty pie dough over a bulging raspberry filling. When that fails I just sit back in my chair, body going limp while my brain picks up the slack and trots off, well sometimes running, it depends on the amount of slack in my limbs and the staccato of my fingertips on the edge of my desk.

Now we've all heard of songs that have titles seemingly unrelated to what they're about, and I don't know about you but at the end of said songs I'm left scratching my head, my skin twitching with irritation and confusion. How did they come up with that title? Why did they come up with it? Does it have a hidden meaning? That last one really gets me, you know? But enough of the unanswerable questions, there's more digressing to do!

Actually, I think I'm plumb out of digressing, imagine that? On to the topic of today's post! Which is...whether you're a writer or not I'm sure you've heard the phrase "write what you know". And today, because of what I do for my job four hours, three days a week, my mind is allowed to go wandering off into the happy land of haphazard thoughts and boundless imagination while my limbs operate on auto-pilot and continue jacketing book after book. Well anyway...while my mind was in its happy place, I started thinking about what the phrase "write what you know" really means...at least to me! ;) You see, at first I took it literally, like to actually write what you know meant to writing about what you understand, or what you are familiar with, like your every day surroundings and whatnot.

Then I started thinking, once my mind had gone a little further and I realized there wasn't going to be any getting it back any time soon and my limbs continued whistling a plethora of tunes stuck in my head and jacketing book after book, what if the phrase "write what you know" really means...write what your heart knows? Does that sound incredibly corny to you, or it is just me? Sometimes I wish my mind could come up with better "tag-lines", so to speak, but another part of me is tempted to say i don't shiv a git. ;) Either way that one question sparked today's blog post - well, not the beginning part of it! - and I'm still thinking about it today.

As I was relaying to my fellow 'sister' on Facebook today - and fellow occasional blogger! - considering what I write primarily about A) Old houses B) Thunderstorms and tornadoes C) Oklahoma D) Small towns and E) New England...how the hell can I take the phrase "write what you know" literally? I have never directly experienced or really 'know' any of these things! Well, only in my head that is, which may count on some levels, but most of those are in fiction writing. So then I started thinking, what if it is what is in the heart? After all, if I've written about old houses, Oklahoma, thunderstorms, tornadoes and New England since middle school, hell there's got to be something of that red muscle buried in each of those subjects somewhere right?

The only problem is, is that along with a seemingly sourceless passion for all said subjects, my heart forgot to inform my brain on even the basic facts on any of them. Or each just came with a pre-assembled frame or apparatus - to quote my great aunt! - without any instruction manual so if it breaks or happens to fall apart, I'd be left scrambling to figure out how the hell to piece it back together, or its like buying a house without physically seeing it and yet stepping onto the threshold and realizing it was everything you ever wanted, even before you've glimpsed all those rooms silently waiting beyond your line of sight.

Now, don't get me wrong, I know I could do research and what not, but honestly? It's all a big bore to me. And that leads me back to my sometimes-cumbersome writing style, which is basically plant my fingers on the keyboard, open up all the lines from those rusted, over-filling filing cabinets in my head to each finger and let the papers fly! Then possibly...maybe...sort them out later once they've fallen onto the digital paper before me on the smudged screen of my laptop. So what then, you ask? Am I forever doomed to being in the dark when it comes to what I love to write about but know nothing about? My answer to that is...hopefully no! I do intend some day to own an old house that is crumbling away and restore it, and I do wish to bear witness to a violent thunderstorm and hopefully glimpse a tornado, and yes, I do hesitantly wish to live in Oklahoma or New England, whether it be in the isolated countryside or a town so small the population number doesn't even need a comma, or three numbers.

Why my heart picked such things to love and leave my head glaringly empty with the basic facts? Well perhaps its irony, or a way to nudge me from my stubborn, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants writing style and actually dig my trowel deeper into that loamy soil until I find something solid, perhaps the beginnings of a root, of a passion, of something I can learn about from its beginnings. I sense another rambling coming on, and I also sense a looming bedtime. Better stop this horse while I can still see the house amidst these frollicking pastures bending the golden rays of evening's light.