Random Thoughts

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, not so much writing. WHen I sit down to write, I have a hard time making sense of my "random thoughts." More than random, they are like a big ball of different colored rubberbands. You know how when you have too many rubberbands lying around, so you just start wrapping them around a tennis ball and before you know it you've got this gigantic ball of bands going this way and that. Sometimes I want to write about the blue one, down there under the green, behind the red, on top of the brown. It's hard to get to just the right thought. All the thoughts (rubberbands) are not necessarily connected but are intertwined enough that I have to be really in the mood to write, or I don't write at all. My writing coach, Carol O'Dell, told us in the very beginning of our group get togethers, that a) we are writers and b) even if we're not typing.  I think Natalie Goldberg (Writing Down the Bones - Freeing the Writer Within)...

Today I was very aware of how writing can be both exhilerating and defeating at the same time.  I spent 2 painful days working on a story that was not turning out like I wanted it. I noticed how often I told myself, "I can't do this" or "I'm no writer." It helped to go back, just one day and see my published story in Sasee Magazine - proof that I can do it and I am a writer. Probably the only thing worse than getting the bones of a story down, is the process of re-writing. Then again, it's kind of a mystery where it's going to end up. Thanks to all of you who read Magic 8 Ball and left me comments here and on FB.  Every writer should have a cheering squad like I have. Merry ME P.S. Susan Buchanan. We've got to find Genie's Naval Academy story. The theme for the June issue of Sasee is "Belle of the Ball." The deadline is April 15th. I'm going to look through Dad's boxes again. Wouldn't that be cool to have it accep...

I've been trying to write a story about my horseback riding adventure. Trying being the operative word. Trying, struggling, fussing, erasing, ..... After it turned midnight on the East Coast, when most sane people are in bed, even crazy writers, I decided to check to see if the April issue of Sasee Magazine is out. OMG! It is! And just in case you can't hear me tooting my own horn wherever you are, you should know I'm pretty excited. I noticed, even though I knew it was coming, being published feels grrrr-eee-aaa-ttt! If you are so inclined, check it out at sasee.com . My story is called The Magic 8 Ball. If you like it feel free to leave a comment. Now back to the grindstone. Smiling, Merry ME

I  noticed  that a garden rose, even one that has seen better days, smells better than a hot house rose. I noticed that I get kind of  real hyper when a bunch of things pile up on me at the same time. Gone are my days of multi-tasking with a smile.

Last night I received a rather criptic email from my friend Amy. The subject was "Head Up." I gleefully opened the message sure I was going to see "THE END" typed in big bold letters. Amy is nearing the end of the editing process for her memoir manuscript. You know how on a relay team, as one person runs her lap, the next person looks like one of those little golden runners on top of the trophy the team is hoping to win, frozen in the running position head down, one arm out front, one arm reaching back to grab the baton, legs poised to zoom ahead? Well that's how I feel about Amy finishing her edits. I am one of the team who will give it a final once-over before handing it off to an agent. All that to explain why I was excited by the email. This is what I got instead:  brace yourself. you'll want to make sure you read my blog tomorrow morning.  Having no idea what that was all about I turned on the computer this morning while I still half asleep. I open...

"I've missed more than 900 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the  game winning shot  and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed." Michael Jordan My writing group is working on an e-book collaboration about "Why I Write". There are fourteen of us. What I find amazing is how each of us probably have the same underlying reason(s) for writing, yet we each said it in a different way.  I struggled with my first draft before our first deadline, butnturned it in on time. I got some good feedback. That was over a month ago. I've tried several times to revise/rewrite and failed. Maybe failure is too harsh a word. Let's say I've been blocked. I write sentences, then erase them. I have an idea, then I trash it. Grrrr.  The other day I asked myself, "why do  I write?" I couldn't come up with a very good answer. It's lik...

"...But a writer's desk always tells the truth about the person who works there. So if you really want to know about who I am ... take a look at my desk. " Eyre Price* I have a desk. Quite a lovely desk across from Sweetie, in the room we call the office. The problem is I've run myself out of it. It's cluttered. Claustrophobic. Intimidating. Like one must work there, not create, i.e. play. So I moved my computer into the den. My desk is now my lap. There's lots of light, the TV if I want it, the stereo if I want that. I'm next to the kitchen, to better hear the call of chocolate chip cookies. I can see out the living room window. Admittedly, without the trees this is not the view it once was, but it is a view. And I have lots of flat surfaces on which to put things. "Then there's the joy of getting your desk clean,  and knowing that all your letters are answered, and you can see the wood on it again."  ~Lady Bird Johnso...

I've been thinking a lot lately about being creative and how creativity manifests itself in different ways in all of us. In my writing group last night we talked about creating. I would imagine .that like most groups that get together with a joint purpose, we are  no different. But since I don't have a lot of experience in group settings (I'm a lone ranger who lives for positive feedback) this group feels magical to me. It's ironic, I think, that right now I seem to be more comfortable with thinking about creating, than creating itself.  [On another subject but maybe related my head doctor suggested today that I could be stuck in "avoidance" mode. Not sure of what, or of who. Letting go? Making changes? Accepting?  Perhaps by thinking about creating, I'm avoiding actually being creative. I think with my writing there is some truth to that. But that's another story (no pun intended.)] I've heard it said before that we all have a song to sing, or...

A few weeks ago one of my writing buddies challenged the group to words get up early and write at least 300 words. Thus the Spartan 300 club was formed to remind us that victory goes to the well-trained. So for a few days I stayed up after putting the dog out and tried to think of things to write about. Then I got this brilliant idea to make a program for our end of the year extravaganza and the creative juices flowed through me like adrenaline. Seriously I was at the computer for almost 24 hours straight. I couldn't turn my mind off even when my fingers and back cramped. I amassed way more than 300 words so I had plenty to spare for my dry days.  I'm not finished with the program because I'm still waiting for a few people to send me the information I've asked for. Nothing curbs a creative process like asking for permission or waiting. But I understand how that works so I'm trying to be patient. Okay, I haven't been patient at all. I've asked, begged, na...

While waiting at a doctor's office I started reading a new book - The Call of the Writer's Craft by Tom Bird. What I got out of the first few pages is the same thing my writing coach and group have been telling me. In a nutshell, one must write on a daily basis (300-1o00 words, the number changes depending on who's advising), preferably in the morning. Bird's theory says to write in the a.m. because when you first wake up your left brain is still kind of drowsy and can't get in there to shut down the creative right brain with criticism. I'm not a morning person has been my traditional comeback. Well Mr. Bird, squashes this excuse pretty quickly. He wants his readers/students to get up 2 hours earlier than normal and try it. He uses words like "retrain" and "catharsis" which barely register in either side of my brain before daylight. But, for the 3rd day in a row, here I am up. The birds are just beginning to sing their good morning songs. T...

Do you believe in serendipity? I have been writing some stories about when I met my Sweetie and how things turned kind of upside down between me and my Dad. My group encouraged me to keep going on the theme 0f "MY" growth instead of focusing all on caregiving, death, grief, etc. Which is where I thought if there was a book in me, that would be the subject. It hasn't been easy. It's taken 4 weeks and 5 "chapters" to even get to the end of our first date. Perhaps Love and War could be a good title. Anyway I've been stumped now that I'm at the point of story where Sweetie kisses me goodbye and I have to walk in the back door and meet Dad's anger head on. I think the stuckness comes from the same feelings tucked away in a hidey hole under my ribs. The story is hard to write from my perspective and not make Dad sound like the Big Bad Wolf. Which of course he was on occasion, but so was I. Anyway, I decided today to clean out the guest room closets ...

I read something the other day that stuck with me. I continue to go back to it. I wanted to share it here, but I'll be danged if I could remember where I read it. I spent at least an hour going through my history files, checking blogs I follow, re-reading posts then hopping on to others. Finally I gave up and decided I'd just try to put the thought in my own words. Actually, I didn't give up for good because I tried one more place - the trash bin - and voila! there it was. An article I threw away when I should have saved it. Right after Christmas I signed up for an on-line workshop called Breaking Into Blossom facilitated Paula Josa-Jones. For a variety of reasons, none of them good, I have read the exercises but not followed through with assignments or community conversations. One of my excuses really belongs in the Too Dumb to Count category. See Jones is dance person. She writes about movement, improvisation, rhythm, "opening doors to an unpredictable aliveness in...

Has it really been 17 days since I last wrote anything. Funny how time flies when you are suddenly hit by a killer kidney infection. For 5 days all I could do was lie in bed and let the war between the germs and antibiotics take place. I can't say my fever raged because it was never much over 100 degrees. But let me tell you, I neither shivered or sweated like that. And talk about ache ... OMG! With the delightful care of my own Frank Nightingale, aka Sweetie, black kitty sleeping partners, and a faithful hound at the foot of my bed I finally began to feel well, if not perky, again. I was ready for a haircut and trip to the mall today. I have been at the computer most of the day, scrolling through 3 months of sent emails prior to my father's death. To think I have several years is a bit daunting. I want to what I wrote about life, friendship, writing, and caregiving in one place and then see if there is a book there. A book? You? Who do you think you're kidding? Questions...

Five years ago today I started this blog. Five years? How can that be? I barely even knew what a blog was back then. But I did know that I had words inside of me that didn't want to stay bottled up any more. Computer journaling seemed as good a way as any to start working on stretching my writing muscles. When I look back I am amazed to see how technology has put me in contact with people I would never have known. For instance when I started writing, I only had a few followers and they were all relatives. I didn't know Terri St. Cloud which means I didn't know Pam, or Dani, or Sorrow, or Molly, or Mandy, or Stephanie, or Patty. And I hadn't read Mothering Mother so I didn't know Carol O'Dell, had never been in a writing group before, had never been brave enough to submit my writing for critique, let alone publishing, and I didn't have the beret-wearing friends known as Le Chat Noir. I'd never talked on the radio, never had my name in the author section ...

Instead of making resolutions I would most likely ignore, at the beginning of 2011 I picked a word that would set my intention for the year. I didn't know at the time my father would cross from this world to the next in 23 days. I didn't know that my desire for "freedom" was going to be handed to me on a silver platter and I was going to stand, frozen in place wondering what to do with it. I'm reminded of a video I saw recently about some beagles who had spent their whole lives as test animals in a laboratory. They'd never been out of a cage, seen the sunlight, peed on grass or chased a ball. I'm not sure how it occurred but a group of volunteers rescued them, undoubtedly just before the executioner's song played. The video showed how tentative the dogs were when the doors to their traveling cages were opened and they were given an opportunity to step out into "freedom." It took several minutes for one of the dogs to slowly venture out, to...

"Within our dreams and aspirations we find our opportunities." Sue Atchley Ebaugh I'm getting a really late start. Not sure where the day went, but it's just about gone. I've told you before about my writing group, how much it means to me. Our meeting yesterday was small but packed full of information. You know writing is so much more than just putting words on a computer screen. There is so much to learn. When we "Chats" get together we laugh as much as we learn, which is like the spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine go down. Individually and collectively, this group of writers is pretty talented, and gutsy. I'm learning it takes a lot of guts to put yourself out there. Writing is one thing, you can do it in the wee hours of the morning in your pjs. Or you can do it in a coffee shop or while waiting in the hospital. Ah, but it's the saying "please read this and let me know what you think" and the willingness to hear what needs t...

"To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music the words make." Truman Capote Carol O'Dell Yesterday I felt poopy. As the day wore on, I felt even poopier. If asked I'd be hard pressed to tell you if I was angry or sad. Probably some of both. And, even though I explored the why's of the feelings, I couldn't figure it out. Instead, I just went to bed. I was asleep by 8:30. Today was a different story. I felt energized and connected. It was writing group day. There's just something about being with these woman that makes me happy. That's not to say that I've always been happy when I'm with them. But that doesn't seem to matter. They let me be however I am. There's something so freeing about that. And validating ... which also happens to be my word for what I get out of writing. Even when I haven't written anything. Along with my blog buddies this group of talented writers is (goofy as it s...

"The secret of getting ahead is getting started. The secret of getting started is breaking your complex overwhelming tasks into small manageable tasks, and then starting on the first one." Mark Twain. I first started blogging after reading my daughter's friend's "Just Jenni" blog. She had signed up for National Blog Posting Month and I was pretty impressed that she could think of something to write about every single day of the month. I've tried it a couple of times - I can't even remember how many - and I think I only successfully completed the challenge once. Well, here it is almost November again and I've been getting notices from NaBloPoMo announcing (daring?) that the contest will start on Tuesday. During NaBloPoMo t here is no posted theme other than to write something every day during the month of November. They have joined up with BlogHer so I'm guessing there will be lots more serious bloggers than I am used to running with. Las...

"Seventy-six trombones led the big parade With a hundred and ten cornets right behind ..." Seventy Six Trombones from The Music Man Can you hear it? Can you hear me tooting my own horn like a whole brass band? Today I received my first royalty check for "Saying Goodbye." (See sidebar). It wasn't a large check, only $ 10.79, but it lifted my spirits pretty high off the ground. I am now, whether I want to claim it or not, a writer ... a paid writer. How cool is that? An interesting note came in the email that announced my earnings. Saying Goodbye is being used in a course on "The Psychology of Grief" at the College of Idaho. The anthology has received praise from reviewers and other readers, and it is being used in the classroom at the College of Idaho as part of a course on “The Psychology of Grief.” Here's what Professor Jan Adams had to say: “This is a book that meets a need for teachers of death and dying classes. Most of the books currently ava...

[Photo: http://www.awwproject.org/] "I believe as these women write, they also begin, in way only they know, to take control." Masha Hamilton* I recently began an 8 week workshop facilitated by my favorite Queen, Dani. That in itself is a story I can't wait to share but not the one I want to tell you about tonight. As part of the supply list for the course I was instructed to cull through various magazines for pictures and words to use in creating collage pages. I really don't remember the last magazine I read. No I take that back, it was a Southern Living magazine that tempted me by putting a picture of a perfectly woven top crust on a juicy peach pie on the cover. I really don't even like peach pie. However, every year I swoon at the undoubtedly air brushed but delicious-looking pies that grace the cover of SL. When Dad was alive it would inspire me to make one of his favorite desserts, peach cobbler. And every year I had to ask someone the difference between ...