When Words Fail There’s Always Hypergraphia, Another Writer’s Block Analogy.

My Life In A 2000 Word Nutshell

In the world of writing the term “writer’s block” is used so often it is nearly trite. Well who am I kidding, that term dances on the head of trite, and has long since graduated to “Great! Now I have the urge to beat kittens and burn little puppies!” sort of term. It’s sort of like the macarena of writing. Unfortunately, just like the macarena, no matter how painfully trite the term writer’s block has become, it is very real and what’s more, it has the fortitude of a WWE  400lbs wrestler; in your face, with an unlimited portion of hands-on “play-time”.

In memory of the late Great Macho Man Randy Savage RIP

It all began when psychoanalyst Edmund Bergler coined the term writer’s block in 1947, he stating that,

“writer’s block may be total or partial and its earliest manifestation may be feelings of insecurity regarding one’s creativity, the development of terseness in style, and looking to others for ideas for future projects.”

Bergler went on to define writer’s block as

having it’s roots to oral masochism and superego driven need for punishment.

So basically my suspicions about being a writer are proven correct. Being a writer is not too unlike asking a complete stranger to insult you, and then pee on your shoes, then bend you over and give you an atomic wedgie before sending you on your merry way.

It’s not really all that comforting to realize that in the world of fiction, writer’s block never ends well. For every writer who has ever suffered from this condition there are as many movies and books which depict the main character lost in the deep depths of writer’s block, the normal story line usually ends with the writer going bat-shit crazy and burying the hatchet in their wife, while their imaginary friend cheers them on. Stephan King is notorious for writing stories about aspiring writers, who succumb to evil due to lack of inspiration, and the inner masochist Bergler spoke of.

Exhibit A: Mort Rainy of Secret Window "Who in tarnation stole my book?"

Some of the best and worst advise I have ever heard on how to defeat writer’s block is, keep writing.  It’s great advise because, well as they say, practice makes perfect.  (note, trite expressions are the secondary theme to this post in case you hadn’t noticed.) It’s the worst advise, because “keep writing” sounds like something Dora from Finding Nemo would say, “Just keep writing, just keep writing…”  Makes me want to fillet little Dora and toast her on a sandwich.  Still keep writing, is actually a great way to stifle those annoying little voices in your head, suggesting that, if you just kill em all now, you can finally win the Pulitzer Prize. Or at the very least, break through that wall which is blocking your creative genius.  Just keep writing has one serious flaw which is overlooked. Writing for the sake of writing generally does not produce anything creative in fact, some would argue next to having no talent what-so-ever, the second leading cause of the cruelty known as bad fiction is, writers following the advise,  just keep writing.

Exhibit B: Jack Torrance The Shining, "Little muse, little muse let me in... or I'll huff and I'll puff, and bash your goddamn head in."

The saying goes, “The Greeks have a god for it”, and thus we have the word, muse. A muse was once believed to be an ethereal being whose job was to inspire the artiste. Plato, Shakespeare and Mendelssohn all had their muses to give credit to for their master pieces.  However in 2004, along came Dr Alice Weaver, and proved to the world that creative writing is actually a perfect balanced connection between our temporal lobes and our limbic system, via the cerebral cortex.  It has been suggested that writer’s block isn’t simply a mentality affected by our circumstances, but can also be an actual neurological reaction to stress, wherein the author’s brain shifts creative control from the cerebral cortex to the limbic system, which is responsible for our emotional responses. Thus, our creative flow, is restricted by fear, anxiety, and depression.  In layman’s terms what this means is, as soon as Dr. Alice Weaver published her second book, The Midnight Disease: The Drive to Write, Writer’s Block, and the Creative Brain, all muses existing in our universe went poof! and disappeared.  And the score still remains to this day, Science 1 – Gods 0. No overtime in this game to be sure.

In doing my routine research for this article, which I should add is actually my personal endeavor to defeat my own personal bout with writer’s block. Yes it happens to most mediocre of us. I stumbled upon a condition, (Wikipedia is awesome!) called hypergraphia.

Hypergraphia is an overwhelming urge to write. It is not itself a disorder, but can be associated with temporal lobe changes in epilepsy and mania in the context of bipolar disorder.

I have never been diagnosed for bipolar disorder, but I have had a few ex-wives with it. Nor do I have epilepsy. Mania, I’m not sure about that one. I mean perhaps I can squeeze in marginally.  I do have a good friend who is a psychologist, and perhaps I could get her to do me a favor and diagnose me with mania or bipolar disorder, because I would love to have hypergraphia. I mean sure it has its down sides, what with having this uncontrollable urge to document your entire day for your entire life! I mean I have no plans of becoming a serial killer, and I highly doubt I will ever get the tap on the shoulder for Vice President like Senator Bob Graham.

Al Gore considered Sen. Bob Graham for his running mate in 2000, but reconsidered once it was discovered that Sen. Graham had hypergraphia and well over 4000 note books of his journals which spanned from 1977 to 2003. Apparently there was this concern for letting a person who has an uncontrollable need to jot down everything they do, see, and hear, be head of NASA, and privy to CIA briefings otherwise known as “serious matters of state”. Still I consider hypergraphia to a struggling writer like myself, to be equivalent to an obese person secretly wishing they could contract a serious disease in order to lose weight.  Don’t jeer! You know we all have pondered it.

Unfortunately I do not have an uncontrollable urge to write, I have an old online journal somewhere with only one entry from 2003 and a blog with sporadic posts as proof of that. What I do have is a shit load of ideas for what I believe will be awesome stories. However, my 350 lbs muse in my head has my creative inner me, in a full nelson. It sort of plays out like that extremely uncomfortable scene in Pulp Fiction where we meet Zed the pawn shop owner  and The Gimp.

Lets have a reading of The Great Gatsby, then its on to Vogon Poetry!

My muse keeps my inner creative me bound and gagged drumming his fingers on the leather mask, debating what he should allow the little masochist to write. To which it pleads with, “rrrummph!”.

What the hell was the safe word again? QWERTY! QWERTY!

One last point about writer’s block. the most common cause for writer’s block, is well… the writer. Hence the possessive apostrophe in the very word, writer’s. Our environment can betray our efforts to write. After all, no matter appearances, our entire lives are not about writing,  that is to say, writers just like any other human being have other things to do. Family rely on us, Law And Order marathons, and reruns of Battle Star Galactica,  (not the shitty Loren Green version, but Edward James Olmos version). Bills to pay, trash to take out, and in my case an 8 month old daughter who takes needy to all new levels of insanity! What? I didn’t tell you I am a stay at home dad also? Well that I will save for my next post. Till then, just keep, well you know staring at the blank screen or something.


Keep On Trucking… As If I’d Ever want to stop trucking.


When I was a teenager, I just knew I would grow up and be one of those guys who would program computers. I had seen War Games no less than 25 times. (This was well before movie rentals, so I had to rely on HBO and the theater.)

Holy crap! I just realized, I’m older than the video rental business model. Holy crap x2!! I just also realized Im older than Videos too! Where was I? Oh yeah! So I was going to grow up to be the next computer wiz that would one day save the world from a game obsessed super computer dead set on nuking the world.

The WOPR, basically the 1980’s version of a high tech penis joke.

Well, that didn’t really pan out, but I did manage to do a stint as a laser printer repair technician. (Trust me, laser printers use to be a big deal.) Anyway, that job joined the ranks of Blacksmith, and TV repair man. So what was left? Well I borrowed a copy of What Color Is Your ParachuteSort of read it, made a resume, printed it out on a HP Laserjet 1

Sort of like Reading Rainbow only for the unemployed.

Basically the high tech version of chisel and stone.

After realizing that my skills I learned from the US Army really didn’t provide me a competitive edge, I mean there was really no market for former Artillery soldiers who were trained in firing missiles and blowing stuff and people up on the civilian market. After all this was way before The Patriot Act, and police departments back then had this crazy notion that cops only needed handcuffs, radios, and revolvers. I know, it was a different time and all.

Hollywood did try to warn us though.

So I decided to become a trucker. Granted, there were a few more details involved my final choice. I read a few books, talked to family and consulted the Magic 8 Ball.

The Oracle of the 1970’s said Keep On Trucking!.

So I committed to pay a couple thousand dollars and enrolled into a trucking school, and after 6 weeks, I was a trucker with a CDL Class A with all the endorsements. Ultimately that meant I was certified by the state of Missouri to take point on ever case of road rage within my immediate vicinity. I was trained to drive slower that the rest of traffic, and make wide right turns just so I might jack up someone’s plan to get through the yellow light before it turns red.

I write all this, while Im sitting in my bunk of my Peterbilt. While outside it looks like Nebraska has become a giant snow-globe. 45mph winds, and 7 degrees. I have gotten off the road through out the years since I first obtained my CDL, and for some reason, I always come back to it. Trucking certainly has changed in the past decade I have been off the road. These days Outlaw Trucking, is when a trucker drives 63mph in California where the truck speed is only 55mph. Real outlaw shit there folks.

Jamming gears has got to be a fever, and will cost you approximately 12% in fuel efficiency.

No CBs anymore, or at least no one talking on Channel 19, but I will talk about all that in another post another time.
Until then, keep the shinny side up, and the rubber side down. And Keep On Trucking.

The CB is dead, long live WiFi!


Things have certainly changed out here on the road. The last time I was in trucking, was 2005. Back then I noticed how technology was affecting trucking, but did not realize how drastically technology would change the behavior of truckers towards each other and interactions.
The CB is dead, long live WiFi! So far all across America the CB is silent. What was once a constant barrage of chaos and mayhem of jabber and RF rants and drivel on channel 19, is now reduced to silence and static. The advertising messages of the petty drug dealers at truck stops offering their high-speed-chicken-feed, has been replaced with high-speed Internet.
The new trucker no longer asks for bear reports, or what the scales are doing down the road, rather presumably are preoccupied with the never ending instantaneous contact via their blue tooth head set via mobile phones.
Satellite radio has conquered the king of the road AM radio and the various industry niches talk radio programs.
The once majestic travel centers like the Giant Truck Stop in New Mexico has been consumed and reduced to a nameless and generic clone of the Pilot franchise. Flying J has merged with Pilot and TA and Petro have merged thus reducing the choices of the many truckers to merely two options.
The character and adventure of trucking has become something as drab and piece work.
Gone are the days of truck stops calling out to all the drivers to stop in for a free cup of coffee. No more trash talk about how dispatchers ruin our home time. Drivers no longer speak to each other the comrade is dead, there is no sense of a brotherhood which once bonded fellow truckers.
Some argue that this is actually a change for the better, but I suspect that this is more due to most in trucking today are not able to compare today with the golden days of trucking. After all, most who claim this change is better, more than likely never have had the experience of their fellow trucker stopping on the side of the road with them to help them adjusts their brakes before going down the Grapevine or Mont Eagle. Most drivers today have never made a new friend out of a simple conversation started from the friendly gesture of blinking headlights for a passing truck.
I suppose there must be some similarities but all in all, I am a bit disappointed, someone broke trucking and its as if no one really sees it or for that matter gives a shit. It’s like watching people trying to impersonate John Wayne without even so much as watching one of his movies. The mechanics are familiar but the soul and essence are empty. Basically someone sucked the soul of trucking dry, and today’s trucker seems apathetic and indifferent to that fact. Not too unlike seeing a guy with a booger on his shirt, and absolutely clueless to it. Sort of disgustingly sad and pathetic really.
Imagine if you woke up in a world where notorious rappers and heavy metal rock stars still sang a generic industrialized version of their genres but mostly made their fame and fortune by endorsing laxatives and orthopedic shoes…. That pretty much describes trucking today. Sad indeed.

Unless your a prostitute or a drug dealer, making money at home programs are complete BullShit.


Imagine my surprise when I received an email announcing my new post, about how I am now making money from home. Obviously everyone knows that utter bullshit, I mean I am not even that motivated, let alone the fact being those programs are so full of shit they actually double as a flotation device. 

I wish to to say to the asshats who managed to hack my account, the joke is on you. Firstly, because my blog has like 4 readers and even then I think two of them are me. Which only proves just how full of shit you really are. Second, I highly recommend you try finding a real job to supplement your addiction to cheese puffs and porn, get out of your mother’s basement, get some fresh air and perhaps even try getting laid, you might actually realize there is more to life than peddling bullshit, trying to bilk people of out their money. Leave that to the professionals, aka congress. 

To the other two readers of my blog, I sincerely apologize for the breach of trust. No matter how insignificant my blog may be, I do my utmost to make sure this little corner of the internet at least has some integrity. 



Republican Thinking 101

Give Me Liberty... No Seriously Give Me Liberty Damnit

      • You can be applauded for executing over 200 humans as a governor, be a cheerleader for a war that has lasted longer then WWII, and still call yourself Pro-Life
      • You can argue that Obamacare must be repealed, but still defend Government’s Right to force Americans to buy shit you regulate, namely insurance.
      • You can indeed be Anti-Science and still compare yourself to Galileo.
      • Forcing little girls to be vaccinated in Texas is WAY more important and interesting than say… Social Security?