Monday, August 24, 2015

Barnacular Vernacular con De-Miracular Synapsia


    Experience is a weirdsy thing.

    Whatever field you’re in, the accumulation of knowledge (along with its practical and constructive application) makes great stuff possible.

    Whatever you have, you refine.

    Pump out, take stock, refine some more — and so the process goeses.

    Knowledge is what makes the killer difference when you ring round for guys to fix up your constipated horse.

    Don’t believe me on this?

    Then take a look at these two Klarify-4-U scenarios.


Scenario 1: The Horse Knowledge Expert

You: Hi. I need urgent help for my sick horse. She ate a whole bunch of cheapo noodles, and now she’s rolling around in the yard in agony and I think it’s some kind of blockage. Can you get here right away?

HKE: Sure.

[Screech of tyres, Venus flytrap gulp of emergency veterinary holdall packed with equine-friendly kaboodle slamming shut.]

minutes later...

HKE: Lemme see...lemme see...

[Horse Knowledge Expert applies four deft forefinger taps to horse’s stomach.  Horse whinneys, leaps to its feet, and does that thing with its teeth that our anthropomorphic stupidity interprets as a smile.]

HKE: Ok, mate — that’ll be a hundred quid please.


Scenario 2: The Noob Horse Guy (moonlighting to help sub his job at the pet food factory)

You: Hi. I need urgent help for my sick horse. She ate a whole bunch of cheapo noodles, and now she’s rolling around in the yard in agony and I think it’s some kind of blockage. Can you get here right away?

NHG: Sure.

[Screech of tyres, Venus flytrap gulp of wife’s old make-up bag rattling with a couple of biros and a bent nail file.]

NHG: Lemme see...lemme see...

[Noob Horse Guy paces around, prods and pokes the horse at random, Googles StrainedMuleSolutions.com and the Train Your Cat hotline, boils a kettle, strokes the horse, asks a zillion questions, works on through the night, pacing, pacing, pacing, massaging, massaging, massaging — and all the while the horse keeps grunting and straining and barking and rolling around till morning when a big ole bolus of compressed Ken Hom Shanghai Noodles pulses from the its backside au painful naturelle with the schloop of a comedy magician  regurgitating a “swallowed goldfish”.]

NHG: Uhm, this one is on the house. And I’ll throw in a free nail file.



    Okay — so do you see the killer difference? between the two scenarios?

    All the knowledge, experience and wisdom of the Horse Knowledge Expert condenses down into a kind of equine Spidey sense whereby he knows exactly what to do to solve the problem — and then he hits the nail on the head like a golfer striking a hole in one.

    As for the Noob Horse Guy, maybe he gets there in the end, and maybe he relies a little too much on luck, but what he lacks for certain is the killer instantaneousness of informed brain to fix the horse’s bowels right away.


    So why is this important?

    Because sometimes there is no constipated horse, and sometimes the solution to the problem before us becomes less available to us the more our knowledge snowballs like a noodle bolus along the digestive tract of our expertise.

    It’s why writing new stuff can be so difficult, and why this difficulty seems to flip over into the impossible the more we fill our brains with exactly the right information.

    The more we become writerly equivalents of the Horse Knowledge Expert, the steeper and more inaccessible the white cliffs of Blank Page Terrorville appear to be.

    Where once there were sparks whaooing onto the page before we even figured we’d thought ‘em up, now only calcified layers of knowledge and wisdom and certainty and experience remain, and the white rectangular void that seeks nothing more than to become a selected mirror reflection of all substance invites only scribbleswirls to knot and garotte every synapse pulse hidden deep and nowhere inside Expert So Expert Skull.

    For writers, knowledge can barnacle up the synapses like a diet of fried pigflesh atherosclerosifies the arteries of an obese hooker with a niche target market.

    It’s a horrible truth, but new, fresh, original stuff flees from the barnacles of certainty.

    So don’t get too hooked on what you know, don’t mainline on what’s been whupping round your cerebral bloodstream for centuries because that’s stupider than drinking your own piss.

    Remember: everything you know about not writing presents itself in the milliseconds before you go on to write nothing at all.

    Getting to this level of instantaneousness of informed brain takes experience.

    Weirdsy.



2 comments:

Elena Solodow said...

This is a great post, and extremely accurate! I got into such a "mode" with knowing how to write a few years ago that the sense of abandon I used to have with writing left me...and now it's very difficult to just let it flow. I'm still trying to get back to a point where I can babble and ramble. Hopefully I'll get there soon!

Whirlochre said...

Hi Elena.

Stay tuned for more wisdom alongside what sometimes masquerades as its product.

Similar posts inhabit the Whirl's Workshop section of the blog, but there's plenty of babble and ramble.