W.A.S. II

Don't worry. I'm not going to number them all. That would be ridiculous, even though I have been known to behave in a ludicrous fashion. Nothing so preposterous here as to seek to number all my Writing Activity Statements. I simply want to make the point that W.A.S. is a series and apparently series sell. Numerous times during the submissions phase of A Muddy Red River's development was I asked whether it was part of a series.

Readers seem to like to read about the same character, doing the same basic thing in a variety of settings or situations. I might say more about book series another time but this is a W.A.S.

3200 words were added to the first draft of my W.I.P. on Saturday which I was very pleased with considering the circumstances which led me to write yesterday's post about boxes. I'll be attempting to close a few boxes today and store them away. What do you have planned?

Boxes

What is the purpose of a box? Physically boxes provide space for things to be either transported or stored, or both. They are organisational devices. If they are strong they are effective, but even if they are weak, depending on the purpose for which they are used, they can still efficiently do the job for which they have been assigned. Boxes are made of different materials: cardboard, plastic, wood or metal, and they come in different shapes and sizes. Some have handles, and some do not. Some have lids, and some do not. Some boxes keep secrets. Other boxes reveal them. Some boxes contain treasures: things of either real or sentimental value, or both. Some boxes contain trash, while others hold a mixture of the worthy and the worthless.

Although I have a place to stay, I don't feel like I have a home at the moment. Much of my stuff is not with me, or is with me in boxes. Some of the boxes are full of things which I don't want any more. It should come as no surprise to anyone how easily one accumulates crap. It should come as no surprise to me, and yet I marvel at the things I have held on to, and the length of time which they have been in my possession. I wonder too, about the reason behind the keeping. Some things I know why, others I don't, but of the former, there are things which now seem so unimportant.

Moving away from the obvious: a house is a box, and so is a car. The human body is a box, and the mind is housed in what we colloquially refer to as the brain box, which is a huge closet with an alarming number of boxes in it. Many of these boxes are locked, or so we think, and we do not want to open them. We put people and experiences in these boxes because sometimes we just don't know what else to do with them.

Life becomes very messy when we open up too many boxes at once. Think of the temporary chaos which results from moving house. That horrendous sense of disorder invades our thoughts when we are under stress. Feeling emotional or physical pain causes, as Lucas called it, "a disturbance in the force." To deal with this disturbance we often start opening up boxes to find a cure.
The search for solutions may become frantic, and instead of being an orderly and peaceful process towards resolving a problem, it becomes a violent ransacking.

Does anyone understand what I am saying? Is there anybody listening? Can anybody hear me? Is anybody out there? It's time for a stock take.

Photograph sources:
https://churchunleashedglobal.org/box/
http://speakfearlessly.net/remarkable-talk-on-the-nature-of-the-brain-and-consciousness/