I’ve been a morning mist without a lake to blanket, a hummingbird without a fragrant flower from which to sip.*
Everyone needs a sense of purpose. We deserve a life of meaning, thrive when engaged in useful work.
All this explains why I’m deeply grateful to have rediscovered a mission I took up last fall: arming you for your next tournament of Strip Scrabble so that if you lose, it won’t be out of incompetence but from the fervent desire to be the one removing your clothes. (e.g. Your opposition’s nose and chest hair is threatening to merge with his unibrow.)
To that end, do you recall a while back when a reader invited me to explain the meaning of the acronym WIP? Remember how I expanded that definition to include a few Scrabble-worthy derivatives, such as wipiphany and pussy-wipped? Remember how you ran with the meme and upstaged me in the comment section? (Especially you, Vaughn Roycroft and Twist Nanobeans. Your twin treachery is emblazoned on mine brain. *shakes fist*)
Well, what better use can there be of a Monday morning than to give BIC the same treatment?
Are you ready?
BIC—often followed by HOK, this is shorthand for “butt in chair, hands on keyboard”, which is meant to describe an attentive, pragmatic, and productive attitude toward writing. Unfortunately, one can assume the position but still suffer, as illustrated by the next entry…
asyllabic—totally literary constipation; can’t write a word.
bicker—a writing session spent mostly arguing with self.
e.g. “Man, this scene is presumptuous and dull.”
“So write in a ham sandwich.”
“I don’t care for pork.”
“ Everything’s livelier when there’s a ham sandwich in play.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be Jewish?”
pubic—writing a sex scene; when the hands dancing over the keyboard are dusted with coarse, dark, curly hair.
amoebic—the kids are at the sitter’s, you took the day off work and have a boatload of creative ideas. Now cue the rumblings from yesterday’s chicken dinner, eaten at the dodgy restaurant.
Arabic—subset of xenophobic if perpetually writing thrillers in which all bad guys are terrorists from the Middle East.
bicarbonate—writing a piece with a bubbly, effervescent tone.
iambic—when writing anything to do with Shakespeare, including mash-ups. (Hamlet and the Hulk; To Have and Have Knot’s Landing; Much Ado about Snooki)
acerbic—when motivated to write by harsh internal dialog. (e.g. You’re the losingest loser who ever lost. Any fool could have written a thousand good words by now. Well? Why aren’t you typing? If you were professional, you’d feel energized by my speech.)
aerobic–you’ve read the stats on the so-called Sitting Disease, so you work at a treadmill desk or religiously use a timer to take calisthenic breaks. Now your writing sessions are measured not only by wordcount, but by reps performed and miles walked.
phobic—when one is so apprehensive about writing a passage, they bounce in and out of their chair like a coke-addled flea; WIP involves aspects of Vietnamese culture, especially a tasty soup.
cubicle—stealth-writing session conducted when “technically” one should be “working” for one’s “employer.”
bicaudal—when your critique group universally spurns your book’s ending, necessitating a total rewrite.
bicycles—when one has two manuscripts on the go and rotates through them on an equal basis.
Albicore—story has fishy origins—i.e. fan fiction destined for publication.
bicuspid—when one’s writing about a toothsome hero; when the work session is a grind.
cannabic—chocolate- and munchie-fueled writing session that is now legal in two states; to grow high on your own words, hit publish, and come to your senses the following day.
cherubic—writing about children too adorable for words.
bicentennial—many of Jan’s writing sessions, so-named because it can feel like it takes two-hundred freaking years to go from idea to competent execution.
hydrophobic—refusal to allow a beverage anywhere near one’s work station. Usually preceded by a costly laptop repair.
coxcombical—session spent working on a piece which will be vanity published.
trisyllabic—writing a lot of contemporary female teenager dialog.
e.g. “Oh. My. God.”
“Worst. Night. Ever.”
Or, said in admiring tones, “You’re. So. Sick.”
Last but not least, an oft-underestimated form of writing which has the ability to sneak under the radar of a hypercritical Internal Editor…
microbic—spell of daily writing which is so minute it doesn’t seem to have any potential, yet—when multiplied over the course of weeks, months, and years—can create a decent output, a proud author, and alter the trajectory of a reader’s life.
Unboxeders, have I overlooked any BIC-containing words? Please feel free to add to the lexicon.
*Edited from an earlier version because found to be offensive, rather than satiric. Sorry for the misfire, folks.