Friday, March 19, 2010

Of Writing and Boxing

Whenever I'm writing up a new story, script, essay, or blog, it's often a constant fight just to get it from brain to page. It's a boxing match taking place in my head. I feel like this is probably true for any creative or problem solving process, but since I know writing, I'll just stick to that.


First, I'll come in, gloves up, feeling out my opponent. Should I work him clockwise, or counterclockwise? There's a lot of studying there for a moment, then, I throw the first punch: right jab. I score a hit, so I go in for another, and another, but it's countered, and I'm hit hard with a left uppercut.

I'm dazed now. I back away. Gloves up. Watching every move. I switch up my stance to counter his own. Then I get in close and work him with some left jabs. they land harmlessly behind his head. I'm getting nowhere, and he makes me pay for it with a strong jab, jab, hook combo. I'm sent reeling. Back to the ropes.

I spit. That one drew some blood. No matter. I come back in, gloves up.

He's getting confident now, and he's turning into more of a puncher, so I let him land a few, just to feel out his techniques. After a few combos that really take their toll, I notice his right hook is a little slow. Slow enough for me to counter with a quick left jab. I wait for him to get into his rhythm. I can feel the hook coming, and I'm ready. There it is, and there I am.

My left hand knocks him out of his cadence. He coils back, I've got the momentum now. I come in with another couple right hands, then a left., then a right. He's cracked wide open now, and I'm letting him have it. I'm Terry Malloy at the end of On The Waterfront. I finish with a big right uppercut that puts him down.

I raise my gloves in victory. Drink in the cheers from the crowd. Flashbulbs burst. It's bliss.

But now, he stirring on the mat, and he's getting to his knees, and then to his feet.

He taps his gloves together and starts bouncing. Looking meaner than he ever did before.



Here comes draft two.


[Even in his heart, the devil has to know the water level]

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