Of Broken-Down Brains December 7, 2007
Posted by Jen in : Journal , trackbackI do sometimes wonder whether I might be completely mad. If my brain were a car, there’s no way it would pass its MOT.
Let’s look at the evidence, shall we?
Yesterday, I was at a writing workshop run by Sarah Salway. A Creative Non-Fiction workshop. And what did I do? Got all in a stew because I couldn’t think of anything to ‘invent’ and came over all peculiar and swoony because I was just writing things that had really happened. Ugh. Took me ages to remember that that’s what I was supposed to be doing. And then, just as I thought my brain had caught up with the day, I realised that the other people were writing about quite sensible stuff like families and death and proper life-changing stuff. And what did I write about? Old men and sex. And nasal hair. Not that I’ve been having any sex with old men, you understand. Just talking about it with them. Accidentally, you understand. Best I don’t even mention it.
To make matters worse, I was told at the beginning of the workshop that there would be no looking in the fridge. I had clearly been outed as a fridge-foraging freak. You can only imagine my shame. It’s not as if I was even going to do it. This, sadly, makes me fake furtive fridge fiddler. Bugger.
There are, needless to say, many other recent incidents of empty-headedness but I can’t seem to remember what they are?
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“Fake furtive fridge fiddler”? I HAVE to find a use for that phrase!
Next time I’ll wear a hijab and stick to the weather.
But your blog’s great and I hope you don’t mind my reading it
Sophie - hmmmm, good luck with that. Sounds like the sort of phrase that can only lead to trouble!
Stephen - should I mention at this point that we were supposed to be using fictional techniques to oomph things up a bit? Embellishment and Exaggeration should be my middle names. Anyway, if everyone talked to me about the weather, what would I have to write about? Erm, maybe I should stop digging myself further in. Gawd, rumbled twice in one week eh? Will I never learn?
Of course. We were talking fiction when the subject came up. You have to embellish and exaggerate to write good stuff.
Should I mention at this point, by way of embellishment and exaggeration, that I am looking forward to a pleasant afternoon with you to-morrow?
I don’t know how to put a smiley in just here but imagine him.
best wishes S, OM
Don’t worry about the hairy old men - they won’t remember a thing, so you’re safe.
Mya x
And I was so looking forward to a fridge expose (imagine there’s an accent on that ‘e’)
So did you have to read out your piece about old men/sex and nasal hair for critique?? I actually think nasal hair is a fascinating subject and the removal of it can be quite life changing:-)
By the way talking of MOTs …..???
Emptiheadesness? Is that what I call mushy-brain (nearly wrote brian there) syndrome?
I could write a whole book about empty-headed things I’ve done, or, in fact, a whole series of books, if only I could remember what they were…
Stephen, I suspect we are encouraging, embellishing and exaggerating each other into extreme naughtiness here. Hurrah!
Mya - It’s me with the holey (not holy!) memory. The old boys I lurk with tend to have minds like steel traps!
Lane - yes, I am shameless. Read it out with my mouth. Are you proud of me? Erm, best we don’t talk about MOTs. Ahem.
Leigh - hello! Ah, yes, mushy-brain syndrome, that sounds a perfect description. Sometimes it’s quite convenient to ‘forget’ things, don’t you think?
A friend of mine has named one part of her brain ‘the forgettery’. When she can’t remember something, she says it’s in there. This way, she may not be able to remember WHAT it is, but she absolutely definitely knows WHERE it is. She says this makes her feel better.
Jen, completely mad? No. Absolutely not.
Partially mad … hmmmmm. I think you might enjoy a writing workshop on the unconscious psychopathological process:
the desire furtive fridge fiddling
the fascination with nasal hair
the old men
the sex
If that doesn’t sound like some sort of Freudian complex, I don’t know what does!
Zinnia - I absolutely LOVE the idea of ‘the forgettery’. That really made me smile; I empathise with her entirely.
Bobo - Bugger, you seem to have me sussed
I can’t say anything…..my husband calls me a donut because I have a hole where my brain should be and when I do something spectacularly stupid (which occurs with frightening regularity) he calls it a ‘donut moment’!!
I love the fact that you wrote about old men, sex and nasal hair - who wants to read about the weather anyway!!
Oh - and what writerly outfit did you go for in the end?
C x
Carol - At least if we’re donuts, we get to be jammy sometimes? You’ll be disappointed to know that I went as myself. Didn’t even straighten my hair. Mind you, it was bucketing down and blowing a gale so I looked like Russell Brand by the time I got there. Sophisticated or what?