“Write a haiku about something that drives you nuts.”
As loyal readers know, I’ve taken to cheating on my posts and answering Plinky prompts, which ask a fairly random question every day and invites readers to answer. The intent is to whack writers into producing at least something. Today’s prompt was the above.
They encourage you to write your own title, which most people don’t. (Today’s default title was “Seventeen Moras of Frustration.” Classical Japanese haiku is a bit more complicated than our Western versions. Among the differences is that it is written in moras. If you already knew what a mora was, you have gained my respect but lost an iota of my warm affection as a peer.)
Anyway. I always write my own, particularly since they stroke your ego by telling you that your answers get viewed more that way. (Hey, I’m honest.) So today, my answer was:
Resisted the urge to turn the title to haiku itself: I didn’t.
Well, there’s always pretentious writing like the above, Annoying, eh?
[Note to loyal readers lacking curiosity or caffeine: The title isn’t a haiku because it’s 18 syllables instead of 17; the first line above really is 17 syllables. Although “pretentious” would be hyphenated, which is cheating.]
OK, I’ll stop now. *whack*
Actual haiku below:
Ah, topical as always:
My cat caught a mouse
Last night. Back and forth they ran.
Morning: Where is it?
Adorable, eh? And even truthful. These mornings indeed drive me nuts, one way or another. Well, the problem is that a) I came up with the notion of the title, b) I followed up with the first line–and c) it took a bit of effort to stop counting on my fingers with the next several things I wrote.
My brain loves this stuff. It’s toys & candy & a nice walk on a sunny day. I can do it for hours. And it also has a serious problem with automatically doing what are called “Tom Swiftys,” she said cerebrally. I have to go back into my manuscript and take them out, partly because the fact that I do it so much indeed drives me nuts–and partly because the astute reader will pick up on it and it will drive them nuts too.
What’s a girl gonna do? I have the suspicion that it’s not Real Writing when I do it on purpose, and Bad Writing when I do it accidentally. But I also suspect that I’m wrong, at least about the first. At the very least, it reminds my brain that writing is FUN!! This, as any writer knows, is something of a contradiction in terms, as writing can resemble stabbing said brain with a fork and wonder why on earth one is doing such a pointless and frustrating activity.
But at the end of the day, I’m all about fun, because there ain’t a lot out there sometimes. When we find it, we should roll around in it for a while. It’s the light of our lives, she said sunnily.
Can I go home now?