Verbal Bankruptcy (the shame of it all)

Back in the days when I typed things like essays, articles or short stories, the most consistently aggravating sight I could think of was that of a blank piece of paper in the typewriter. The blank page would stare back at me, just daring me to think of something, anything intelligent to put on it. When I began a sentence, it would mock me about half way through as I lost the thought, and had to start over. If I made a spelling or grammatical mistake (known in the ancient language of pre-spell-check* times as a “typo”) I had to tear out a page, partially killing a tree, and start over.

These days, as we revel in the wondrous age of electronics, I no longer have to face the blank page. Instead, I face the blank screen (oddly shaped like a page). So things have improved since the old days. I know the trees like it better. But I don’ t find that it makes me any more creative. I still get stuck. I still get frustrated. Like today. I really can’t think of anything to write about, so I’m writing about not being able to think of anything to write about.

Does that make sense? Writing something at any cost?

Of course not. It must be ingrained.

I spent 30+ years as a broadcast reporter and only met one person who thought it was ok not to have anything new to report at news time. As it turns out, he was the one boss over the years who truly understood what “news” is. It’s new stuff. Thus the term.

Have you ever spent thirty, or twenty minutes with CNN and wondered why everything they were saying sounded so familiar? How many times can you listen to the same story before you start newscasting along with the anchor? Most “News” stations, TV or radio, repeat the same stuff so many times it’s like having the words appear in front of you as you listen. Kind of like a news Karaoke. But not as enjoyable as the musical version.

This boss had a story he liked to tell about having something really new to say at news time. He recalled one particularly dull afternoon, when his then news director found himself at the top of the hour with only the stories he’d read 30 minutes ago. When the big instrumental “News Opening” heralded the appointed time, as they all did in those days complete with kettle drums and brass in extremis, he opened his mike, said “Ladies and gentlemen there is absolutely nothing worth knowing to tell you about at this time” (or words to that effect), closed his mike and played the equally ostentatious “News Closing”.

I often wish my old boss worked for CNN.

*spell-check is a subject covered definitively by Sage Words some time ago.

Blog at ya later
-Geezerguy