A writing workshop I took once was run by a guy who recommended "writing blind" (not his words, mine). He talked about turning off the monitor so you couldn't self-edit during a flash fiction session, the value being something that was more right-brained and, naturally, better.
No. I never tried this. I didn't have to. You see, I am terribly, terribly near-sighted and, the older I get, the worse it grows. And I am also terribly absent-minded (this is not a product of age. I've been this way as long as I can remember). So all I had to do is take off my glasses and set them down somewhere.
Did it work? Sorta. I turned out some pretty good work during that couple of years, or so I heard. I'd never know; I couldn't see it. Of course I heard about odd typos too, but that's what you get when you put a semi-blind woman in front of a computer and tell her to write (I'll thank you to not make any monkey jokes, please). Cause, you see, once I took off my glasses it was days until I could find them again and by that point the damage was done.
I came out of that workshop a better writer and more in touch with the creative process. I no longer need to "write blind" to accomplish getting in touch with my right-brain. Unfortunately, I'm still losing my glasses on an almost daily basis.
Gary asks repeatedly why I take them off at all as we both know I can't see without them--can't read, watch tv, walk, and certainly shouldn't drive.
That's a good question and I have a good answer for it: Because the house is cleaner when I don't wear them, that's why. If I can't see the dust and the clutter and animal hair, it's not there. So if I want a day off, I simply set them down somewhere and live in ignorant (blind) bliss.
Yesterday was Mother's Day so I took them off. Nuff said.
Unfortunately, this morning I cannot for the life of me find them and it's pointless to spend an extended amount of time searching because I can't see to find them, no matter how much I look for the clear spot. I'm going to have to wait for Gary and the kids to get up and ask them to help me.
They're great about helping, asking me useful questions as they search like:
"Where's the last place you had them?"
"Have you checked the top of your head?"
"Jeremiah! Quick! Look in the freezer next to the ice cream!" (Someone found them there once a few years ago and I've never lived it down. I for one have no idea how they got there).
And my all time favorite: "Where'd you lose them at?" (I left them on the kitchen counter of course! I just wanted you to look for them because I figured you had nothing better to do than lift sofa cushions, pull furniture out from the wall, check on the high dusty shelf in our closet behind my high school keepsakes, and take the toilet in the boys' bathroom apart in case that mysterious gurgle is them trapped in a joint . . . )
I was confident I left them on the bedside table when I went to bed last night. I did find a slimy chewtoy where I normally put them (normally as in when I remember to pick them up) . But Solomon's not wearing them this morning, so I'm thinking he might have buried them somewhere.
Meanwhile, if this turns out to be a good blog entry, will you let me know?