Thanks a lot for the responses yesterday. I'm glad to be on Tildes, this seems to be a very vibrant and happy community unlike many others! Today is the second post in a series (hopefully) of writing exercises to get rid of my writer's block.

Today is the second day of my battle against Writer's Block. A very basic question I want to ask is what exactly is writing inspiration and where does it come from? If it comes from within you (as many claim) then why doesn't it always keep flowing like a river, why is it so scarce a resource? The mechanisms of subconscious mind are probably too complex for even the mind itself to work out!

What I've found though is that it's much easier to do freehand writing or writing nothing in particular (as I'm doing now) but it gets a bit tricky when you want to write about something specific like an article or research paper or a book. That's when you must start worrying about the content quality, research material, story background, plot, etc. But even freehand writing is a great exercise I think to flex your writing muscles at frequent intervals and ensure that they stay in order.

Of course, other antagonists like lethargy, procrastination, impostor syndrome, self censoring, etc. are always waiting in their closets to jump out and play their part in the battle! These are like natural foes. Whatever you do about them, they'll always lurk back in some form or other given the right environment! Especially in 2022 when oodles of great literature already exist on any given topic, the pressure to perform on a writer is tremendous. Wiser, smarter and more intelligent people than me already seem to have written whatever there is to write about literature, mathematics, computer science, physical sciences, social sciences, etc., what exactly is there left for me to write anyways? So the impostor wonders aloud!

When all else fails, the pundits ask you to "write about yourself" or "write about your own experiences". That's easy to say actually but my own life has been so mundane and ordinary (just like most other people's, I suppose) that there is hardly anything inspiring or worthwhile to get out of that. They say "open yourself up" but what if there is nothing inside but just a hollow and empty shell when you open up? My life has been one of the most "typical" or "average" as I'd put it whereas writing is supposed to be creative and extra ordinary.

Another obvious source of writing is reading. They say the more you read, a better writer you'll become as you'll keep adding to the raw material to pick from. I have a good collection of books and I used to read a lot many years ago, an activity which has reduced a lot lately due to work and other factors. Just like writer's block, I also seem to have gotten myself a "reader's block" if there is such a thing!

As I keep battling with the proverbial pen day after day, I hope something good will come out of it and I might become a better writer than I presently am. Today is just the second day, I just hope I'll be able to keep up with this pace and write daily. Please wish me luck! Thanks for reading.

After loving Waiting for Godot in the theater years ago, I recently tried to read the novel Molloy, by Samuel Beckett, in the Portuguese translation. It was a humbling experience. Most of the time I did not know who was talking, where they were talking, to whom they were talking, or what they were trying to talk about. The words were definitely arranged in interesting ways that pleased me at times, but I can't really say if what I was doing could be qualified as reading.

Half the book doesn't even have paragraphs, it is just one continuous block.

Maybe that is the point? I don't know. Critics do seem to get a lot more from these than I do, to the point that I ask myself "are they just deluding themselves, creating meaning where there is none just to justify their very existence? Wouldn't a work with little to no meaning render critics useless anyway?".

I don't know, I'm rambling. I'm looking at Molloy defeated, like one day I looked at Joyce's Ulysses.

Maybe I should read these books without thinking, like listening to music with lyrics in a language I don't speak (I can kinda do that in a movie, but a movie is only 2 hours...).

Maybe I'm not worthy.

I've been looking lately for something new to read/watch/listen to/play and I've been chasing a particular feeling that some of my favorite works have given me in the past.

It's something that's hard to describe succinctly, so it's not exactly easy to just google search for something, and usually just telling people I like x thing gets me y recommendation which is maybe a similar style or genre but doesn't really elicit the particular feeling that I'm after.

I figure other folks might have a similar problem, so I thought it might be fun to have a thread for requests for works that make you feel a certain way, regardless of genre or medium.

I'll start mine in the comments and other folks feel free to ask for requests as top-level comments as well!

I just finished Elena Ferrante's "Neapolitan Novels" and am grappling with this idea of time and the aging process.

Some themes that I find peculiar are:

• Those pesky things our parents told us in adolescents, which we often absentmindedly or hotheadedly disregarded, make much more sense as an adult. And, sometimes, we don't get the chance to share our revelations with them.
• The things we wanted to dissociate from/ we found disgusting as youths are things we may cling to for comfort as an adult. (Be that as it may, sometimes the things they say are atrocious, which makes one think, what atrocious things am I saying now?).
• Sometimes the things we fear are inevitable.
• Things we said and our attitude towards our parents were harsh. As we grow older and become the receiver of such harshness, we grow to have compassion for them (possibly after they have passed) and wish we were kinder to them.
• Quarrels between friends and family members seem so important at the time of the incident, however, as space and time grow, those quarrels fall to the backdrop. Human connection is craved and desired more as we age. This makes me feel that grudges are so wasteful (although I am guilty of holding them and am holding them currently - That's an internal battle I am fighting).

There's more I can say about this, but I should hold back from rambling. So, what do you think of when you think of time and/or the aging process?

Tweetstorm related: https://twitter.com/bioxcession/status/1028322450910732289

Upfront: the basic premise of the book is that Theranos was an exploitative, evil company headed by two exploitative, evil people. It makes an effort to not apologize for Elizabeth, or blame her actions on anyone else. She was sucked into the vortex of literally being a bloodsucker. In fact, the book - at one point - goes so far as to suggest she may be a sociopath.

Now, the book was a good read, and I think the point makes sense - bad company is bad. But it's stirring up a ton of music in my head - especially since it compared Theranos to "vaporware companies" - practices that the Valley has engaged in since forever (promising endlessly and not delivering).

Vaporware: software or hardware that has been advertised but is not yet available to buy, either because it is only a concept or because it is still being written or designed.

Theranos was no different, except it tried selling vaporware in the form of a healthcare device. Insisting that this device worked (it didn't), and insisting that most of their received blood tests were running on it (they weren't).

It's my opinion that Theranos would have been hailed as an enormous success if they had delayed for long enough to make this technology work. I believe that my point is furthered by the fact that Walgreens waited through two years of delays, of and tolerated outright lies. If the tech ever came out, all would have been forgiven.

My argument boils down to this: Elizabeth wasn't a shitty person, she operated correctly in a shitty system.

She took risks, yes - but they were necessary to maintain the illusion that she had a product that amounted to anything. Eventually, she hoped, her team would crack the nut and she'd come out unscathed.

The problem amounts to our system encouraging this type of behavior - she was visited by the vice president, Kissinger, Mattis, had dinners with the Clintons, and was a fellow at Harvard medical school. Nobody thought twice because the tech was so exciting.

Tildes, what can we do to prevent this type of behavior, and am I overlooking something?

Kafka once wrote in a letter that he thought we ought to read only the books that wound or stab us. The quote is longer (because it's German), but I think we all get the drift.

This thread was inspired by a question that @scituselectrum asked me in the last book-reading thread: what books have you read that have allowed you to see the world in a new light? Put in Kafka-esque terms, what books have impacted you like a disaster and acted as an axe for the frozen sea within you?

I thought it was such a good question that I wanted to know other answers. Maybe add some reading to my already intimidating list.