Friday, September 26, 2008
New Classes
I'm missing hearing from everyone. Several are taking new classes, others may be vacationing or having other things going on. Drop us a note to let you know how you are doing. Is your chair glue still holding, are you in need of more catalyst for the mixture, are there threads from your socks wrapped around and choking your second-to-the-smallest toe?
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Back and Welcoming Another Author
Hi all! First, thank you for the thoughts and prayers. In the midst of everything, two of my family members in poor health had some major health issues arise in the wake of my Grandma's death. So, I'm afraid I had to be away a bit longer that I thought I would be. I FINALLY got caught up in the new writing class and am now trying to get caught up here. And GU, I LOVED the challenge...I have an idea in its barest written form right now (although I'm not sure it really has the "mystery solved" element strong enough) and have plans to add it to the comments in the next couple of days.
Okay, we have a new author to welcome. Dibbs should be getting an email invite and joining us here soon. Welcome, Dibbs! And, Lulu=Katie...sorry, Katie, I should have asked you what name you wanted to use here.
Also, from a comment in another post: many of us seem to be creating other blogs to give us an outlet for other creative expression that we're not able to post here. Someone asked if it would be okay to let the people here know about our other blogs and I don't see that being a problem. So, if you have another blog you want to let us know about, feel free to post it in the comments. Thanks!
Okay, we have a new author to welcome. Dibbs should be getting an email invite and joining us here soon. Welcome, Dibbs! And, Lulu=Katie...sorry, Katie, I should have asked you what name you wanted to use here.
Also, from a comment in another post: many of us seem to be creating other blogs to give us an outlet for other creative expression that we're not able to post here. Someone asked if it would be okay to let the people here know about our other blogs and I don't see that being a problem. So, if you have another blog you want to let us know about, feel free to post it in the comments. Thanks!
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Frustrated and in Tears
I planned to take GU’s torch challenge. But I ended up with a challenge of my own. As you more or less know I was going to a Women’s Retreat last weekend. Let me tell you what happened and the week I have endured. Sorry if this gets a little long and its unedited for the most part.
I work as a caregiver and absolutely love it. I have worked for the same company for 23 years this November. I have one handicapped client and her family at present. I love working for them. It keeps me very busy. She is in a wheelchair, her partner is mobile except he needs crutches sometimes and has back and balance problems. They have his two sons and a little girl between them that makes up their family. I have worked 2 ½ years for her and the family is like part of my own.
Ten minutes before I’m to leave on retreat, I stood sorting through my mail. A letter from my employer was in there as well as a letter from my union. I opened one letter and stared in shocked silence at the words, “It is with regret that the executive board has decided to close the homecare division of our agency due to budget cutbacks. The department will close December 31, st ” I tried to make sense of the words, but my world all of a sudden tilted at a funny angle on its axis. Then I whisked away on our church van to spend the weekend thinking, wondering, and trying to cope. Alternately I cried and thought and got angry at the whole stupid thing.
On Monday I talked with my supervisor to learn that the company wanted to do one of two things. One would send us to different agencies where we loose our seniority and our pay. The other choice is to remain with the company and take a $1.50 - $2.00/ hr. pay cut to save the program. Not only does this jeopardize my family but it makes me feel my skills aren’t worth much.
Then there is the issue of our clients. The hope upper management wants us to believe is that all of us would transfer to a different agency and continue working with our same clients. But my shop steward does not seem to be so sure that other agencies want an influx of new employees when they have their own staff.
As far as my direct client, here is where it hurts the most. She has a team that oversees her care. The team does not want to wait until December before they have a plan. They don’t seem to want to wait a few weeks while this all gets worked out. On Thursday I was asked to leave early so they could all have a teleconference. Then today her team leader wanted to talk, but wanted my client to call back after I left. Personally this aggravates me and I feel unimportant and used. No one will talk to me and let me know what they’re thinking. My client just keeps saying they are looking out for her best interest and she does what they tell her to.
I wonder when I will be important to someone and someone will be concerned about what happens to me. My family is in full support of whatever happens and what I decide, but I guess its my employees and the clients I work with that cause the most suffering. I pour my life blood into my work. I always get close to them and their families. I know I shouldn’t, but It is who I am. I can not do any less than to cut my own throat. My husband tells me this caring is what makes me me, and makes me such a great caregiver.
I’ve had a week to think about all of this. I oscillate like a fan, between hope and despair. I toss around ideas and throw them away again. I cry and get angry and grieve and have hope. I feel like I am on a giant roller coaster of emotion and its only by a strong determination that I do not fall off. I feel so sick at heart and wonder where its all going to end. I try to keep busy and not think about it, but that’s hard when I don’t know any answers. This is why I asked GU to pray. I sure could use it. Thanks for listening, or reading in your case.
I work as a caregiver and absolutely love it. I have worked for the same company for 23 years this November. I have one handicapped client and her family at present. I love working for them. It keeps me very busy. She is in a wheelchair, her partner is mobile except he needs crutches sometimes and has back and balance problems. They have his two sons and a little girl between them that makes up their family. I have worked 2 ½ years for her and the family is like part of my own.
Ten minutes before I’m to leave on retreat, I stood sorting through my mail. A letter from my employer was in there as well as a letter from my union. I opened one letter and stared in shocked silence at the words, “It is with regret that the executive board has decided to close the homecare division of our agency due to budget cutbacks. The department will close December 31, st ” I tried to make sense of the words, but my world all of a sudden tilted at a funny angle on its axis. Then I whisked away on our church van to spend the weekend thinking, wondering, and trying to cope. Alternately I cried and thought and got angry at the whole stupid thing.
On Monday I talked with my supervisor to learn that the company wanted to do one of two things. One would send us to different agencies where we loose our seniority and our pay. The other choice is to remain with the company and take a $1.50 - $2.00/ hr. pay cut to save the program. Not only does this jeopardize my family but it makes me feel my skills aren’t worth much.
Then there is the issue of our clients. The hope upper management wants us to believe is that all of us would transfer to a different agency and continue working with our same clients. But my shop steward does not seem to be so sure that other agencies want an influx of new employees when they have their own staff.
As far as my direct client, here is where it hurts the most. She has a team that oversees her care. The team does not want to wait until December before they have a plan. They don’t seem to want to wait a few weeks while this all gets worked out. On Thursday I was asked to leave early so they could all have a teleconference. Then today her team leader wanted to talk, but wanted my client to call back after I left. Personally this aggravates me and I feel unimportant and used. No one will talk to me and let me know what they’re thinking. My client just keeps saying they are looking out for her best interest and she does what they tell her to.
I wonder when I will be important to someone and someone will be concerned about what happens to me. My family is in full support of whatever happens and what I decide, but I guess its my employees and the clients I work with that cause the most suffering. I pour my life blood into my work. I always get close to them and their families. I know I shouldn’t, but It is who I am. I can not do any less than to cut my own throat. My husband tells me this caring is what makes me me, and makes me such a great caregiver.
I’ve had a week to think about all of this. I oscillate like a fan, between hope and despair. I toss around ideas and throw them away again. I cry and get angry and grieve and have hope. I feel like I am on a giant roller coaster of emotion and its only by a strong determination that I do not fall off. I feel so sick at heart and wonder where its all going to end. I try to keep busy and not think about it, but that’s hard when I don’t know any answers. This is why I asked GU to pray. I sure could use it. Thanks for listening, or reading in your case.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Counting Bricks
Folks, I was disappointed that no one had responded to my challenge, and so to get some discussion going, I thought I'd offer a piece hinted to during the class. Not so long ago, I imagined what a meeting with my birth father, who left when I was 4.5 years old, would be like. This is how it turned out...
Flight 88 landed as smoothly as it had taken off an hour ago. Mike parked the rental car and made his way into Spring Haven Hospital to finally confront his birth father.
Having just learned of Al’s hearing and sight deficiencies, Mike felt invisible as he stared at what he’d waited his whole adult life to see. In the full-length mirror on the front of the closet door, he could see his wheelchair-bound dad’s eyes fixed in a gaze out the window. The on-duty nurse had explained Al’s terminal prognosis.
Al was nearing the end, his liver liquor-pickled and his lungs ravaged by a lifetime of nearly everything able to be smoked. His reflection revealed eyes wilted to a squint by the sun, and a face creased by years spent contemplating the events that contributed to his present condition. Through his father’s raspy-sounding breathing, he couldn’t help noticing those eyes. Deep brown with whites hidden by an alcoholic’s roadmap of bloodlines, it was impossible to ignore the fixed stare.
Mike couldn’t help feeling sympathy for the old man. However, a lifetime of anger and planning these moments gave way to an internal conflict he couldn’t contain. Still, how should he approach him? Should he live out his recurring dream of planting a laser-guided fist to the nose of the son-of-a-bitch and say ‘hello, Daddy’? Maybe he should just grab the folding chair from the corner of the room and sit waiting for him to notice him and see what he said. Or maybe he should just leave and forget the whole thing. No…he’d waited too long, and he wouldn’t have another chance.
“Hello, Asshole!” he said, walking toward the folding chair. Relieved that, judging from an unchanged expression, his dad hadn’t heard him, he switched on the fly to a different approach. Mike unfolded the chair and sat beside Al. He leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, and mimicked his father gaze.
After what seemed like hours of silence, he realized there was nothing to look at. A small eight-stall parking lot, a dumpster and the brick of another wing without windows. Quiet was broken by the rustling of the occupant of the chair next to him.
“3,946.” Mike said.
“What the sam-hell are you talking about?” Al asked, irritated at this space invading stranger.
“Bricks. 3,946 bricks, isn’t that what you were doing? Counting bricks? Nothing else worth looking at.” The number was random, just a feeble ice-breaker. All he had detected was his father’s Bostonian taint, and ignorance of Mike’s identity.
Al turned as fast as an 84-year-old could and wheeled away from the window. “I don’t know why you quacks don’t just leave me alone. Every day it seems some self-proclaimed genius is invading my space thinking he’s going to get inside my head. Can’t I just be left alone?” He reconvened his staring into the hall, since his window had been violated.
“I’m not a shrink.” Mike said.
“Whatever, I’m just as tired of doctors. Will you please leave…now??”
“I’m not a doctor either, Dad” Mike replied, wondering if his father was paying attention.
With no reduction in anger, he continued his tirade. “Look, if you aren’t a doctor you have no reason to be here. So, take your sorry ass out of…” he stopped mid-sentence and turned his chair around 180 degrees. Mike saw the same gaze he saw in the mirror, only this time it was fixed on him. “What did you say?”
“I said I wasn’t a doctor.”
“No you didn’t. You said you weren’t a doctor, DAD! What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Al slowly rolled closer to Mike, never once breaking the stare into his eyes. While the two faces moved closer together, they both began noticing the similarities in features. Mike could tell his father was putting it all together.
“My…good…God!” Al was not only out of breath from the most contracted verbal exchange he’d had in years, but stunned by what was in front of him. “Reuben Michael? Ruby? Is that you?”
“Mike…my name is Mike now. I changed it when I was adopted. But yes, it’s me.” The years of frustration were suddenly replaced by an overwhelming feeling of connection between a boy and his father. “Al…Dad, I can’t believe I’m talking to you. I’ve waited so long.”
“My…good…God,” Al repeated, “every single hour of every passing day since I ended up in this place I’ve contemplated how I could find you, face you and tell you how sorry I was for everything. And now, looking at you, seeing some of me in your eyes, I feel like you know.”
“I do know, Dad, and I’m sorry, too. Sorry I waited so long, sorry I’ve held these feelings of anger, sorry for…” his words were broken by his father’s interruption.
“Ruby, enough of that. Know that I love you, and I would have given anything to have undone everything I did that caused all this pain. But it’s over now, Ruby, its over.”
Before Mike could say any more he saw his father inhale deeply, and exhale a long, final breath. Words were unreachable as he watched his father’s eyes close for one last time. As they closed, a single tear emerged and traveled down Al’s cheek, eventually converging with a perceptible upward wrinkle in the corners of his dad’s mouth. He was gone. Even so, he passed with a settled spirit.
On the flight back Mike felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted. Gone was the anger, the resentment, the rage that had brought him. In its place was the satisfaction of reuniting with his father and knowing that despite everything, he loved his father – and his father loved him.
Back in his home town, Mike stopped at the courthouse and asked the clerk for the forms he needed to officially change his name. In the required box for the name being requested, he proudly spelled out…Reuben Michael...and then his last name.
Flight 88 landed as smoothly as it had taken off an hour ago. Mike parked the rental car and made his way into Spring Haven Hospital to finally confront his birth father.
Having just learned of Al’s hearing and sight deficiencies, Mike felt invisible as he stared at what he’d waited his whole adult life to see. In the full-length mirror on the front of the closet door, he could see his wheelchair-bound dad’s eyes fixed in a gaze out the window. The on-duty nurse had explained Al’s terminal prognosis.
Al was nearing the end, his liver liquor-pickled and his lungs ravaged by a lifetime of nearly everything able to be smoked. His reflection revealed eyes wilted to a squint by the sun, and a face creased by years spent contemplating the events that contributed to his present condition. Through his father’s raspy-sounding breathing, he couldn’t help noticing those eyes. Deep brown with whites hidden by an alcoholic’s roadmap of bloodlines, it was impossible to ignore the fixed stare.
Mike couldn’t help feeling sympathy for the old man. However, a lifetime of anger and planning these moments gave way to an internal conflict he couldn’t contain. Still, how should he approach him? Should he live out his recurring dream of planting a laser-guided fist to the nose of the son-of-a-bitch and say ‘hello, Daddy’? Maybe he should just grab the folding chair from the corner of the room and sit waiting for him to notice him and see what he said. Or maybe he should just leave and forget the whole thing. No…he’d waited too long, and he wouldn’t have another chance.
“Hello, Asshole!” he said, walking toward the folding chair. Relieved that, judging from an unchanged expression, his dad hadn’t heard him, he switched on the fly to a different approach. Mike unfolded the chair and sat beside Al. He leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, and mimicked his father gaze.
After what seemed like hours of silence, he realized there was nothing to look at. A small eight-stall parking lot, a dumpster and the brick of another wing without windows. Quiet was broken by the rustling of the occupant of the chair next to him.
“3,946.” Mike said.
“What the sam-hell are you talking about?” Al asked, irritated at this space invading stranger.
“Bricks. 3,946 bricks, isn’t that what you were doing? Counting bricks? Nothing else worth looking at.” The number was random, just a feeble ice-breaker. All he had detected was his father’s Bostonian taint, and ignorance of Mike’s identity.
Al turned as fast as an 84-year-old could and wheeled away from the window. “I don’t know why you quacks don’t just leave me alone. Every day it seems some self-proclaimed genius is invading my space thinking he’s going to get inside my head. Can’t I just be left alone?” He reconvened his staring into the hall, since his window had been violated.
“I’m not a shrink.” Mike said.
“Whatever, I’m just as tired of doctors. Will you please leave…now??”
“I’m not a doctor either, Dad” Mike replied, wondering if his father was paying attention.
With no reduction in anger, he continued his tirade. “Look, if you aren’t a doctor you have no reason to be here. So, take your sorry ass out of…” he stopped mid-sentence and turned his chair around 180 degrees. Mike saw the same gaze he saw in the mirror, only this time it was fixed on him. “What did you say?”
“I said I wasn’t a doctor.”
“No you didn’t. You said you weren’t a doctor, DAD! What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Al slowly rolled closer to Mike, never once breaking the stare into his eyes. While the two faces moved closer together, they both began noticing the similarities in features. Mike could tell his father was putting it all together.
“My…good…God!” Al was not only out of breath from the most contracted verbal exchange he’d had in years, but stunned by what was in front of him. “Reuben Michael? Ruby? Is that you?”
“Mike…my name is Mike now. I changed it when I was adopted. But yes, it’s me.” The years of frustration were suddenly replaced by an overwhelming feeling of connection between a boy and his father. “Al…Dad, I can’t believe I’m talking to you. I’ve waited so long.”
“My…good…God,” Al repeated, “every single hour of every passing day since I ended up in this place I’ve contemplated how I could find you, face you and tell you how sorry I was for everything. And now, looking at you, seeing some of me in your eyes, I feel like you know.”
“I do know, Dad, and I’m sorry, too. Sorry I waited so long, sorry I’ve held these feelings of anger, sorry for…” his words were broken by his father’s interruption.
“Ruby, enough of that. Know that I love you, and I would have given anything to have undone everything I did that caused all this pain. But it’s over now, Ruby, its over.”
Before Mike could say any more he saw his father inhale deeply, and exhale a long, final breath. Words were unreachable as he watched his father’s eyes close for one last time. As they closed, a single tear emerged and traveled down Al’s cheek, eventually converging with a perceptible upward wrinkle in the corners of his dad’s mouth. He was gone. Even so, he passed with a settled spirit.
On the flight back Mike felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted. Gone was the anger, the resentment, the rage that had brought him. In its place was the satisfaction of reuniting with his father and knowing that despite everything, he loved his father – and his father loved him.
Back in his home town, Mike stopped at the courthouse and asked the clerk for the forms he needed to officially change his name. In the required box for the name being requested, he proudly spelled out…Reuben Michael...and then his last name.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Ann Garci please respond!
AG please respond to this as soon as you can so that we know you are ok. We've been thinking of you and praying for you. God bless.
GU
GU
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Class
I signed up for the next class on the 17th. Also I'm going to be gone this weekend to a Women's Retreat. I'm going to take along plenty of paper and my pen. Maybe I'll get an idea for your challange, GU. Bye for now
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Time for a torch challenge!
Okay, before the next class starts, I'm laying down a challenge...although I don't get to compete because I'm starting it. So I'll just judge and pass the virtual torch to the winner.
Here is the challenge.
A piece of cheddar cheese
A nickel
A magician
Around 500 words (give or take what you want to give or take), deliver a mystery, solved, using these three elements and a touch of humor.
No prizes but the torch, and you get to make the next challenge! So who's first?
Here is the challenge.
A piece of cheddar cheese
A nickel
A magician
Around 500 words (give or take what you want to give or take), deliver a mystery, solved, using these three elements and a touch of humor.
No prizes but the torch, and you get to make the next challenge! So who's first?
Hi to another new author and a little business
Peglova just sent me an email asking to join us here. We should be seeing her name in our author's list shortly. Welcome, Peglova!
Also, if there are authors who haven't received an email invite from Blogger, please email me again and let me know. I have three invites in the queue and, as I've found out, I have accidently typed in email address incorrectly and people didn't get their invites. Just want to make sure I haven't left anyone out.
FYI... I'll probably be offline starting tomorrow and at least through Saturday. My grandma, who was battling late stage Alzheimer's, passed away late Monday evening. It may sound strange but it was truly a blessing. The world had become such a scary place for her in these last months and she was unable to do even the most basic things for herself. I know that everything she lost in this world has now been restored. Her funeral is Friday, so I'm travelling home to be with my family and especially my grandpa who is having such a hard time losing his wife of 68 years.
Also, if there are authors who haven't received an email invite from Blogger, please email me again and let me know. I have three invites in the queue and, as I've found out, I have accidently typed in email address incorrectly and people didn't get their invites. Just want to make sure I haven't left anyone out.
FYI... I'll probably be offline starting tomorrow and at least through Saturday. My grandma, who was battling late stage Alzheimer's, passed away late Monday evening. It may sound strange but it was truly a blessing. The world had become such a scary place for her in these last months and she was unable to do even the most basic things for herself. I know that everything she lost in this world has now been restored. Her funeral is Friday, so I'm travelling home to be with my family and especially my grandpa who is having such a hard time losing his wife of 68 years.
Ike
Ike is heading our way. I live approximately 40 minutes from Port Lavace and 1hour 45 minutes from Rockport and Corpus. So I am boarding up, grabbing my dog, photos, favorite books and my computers and heading to Austin.
Keep our Southern Lands in ya'lls prayers. I have insurance on my home and a place to find shelter so I am good. Pray for those that do not.
Be Blessed!
Keep our Southern Lands in ya'lls prayers. I have insurance on my home and a place to find shelter so I am good. Pray for those that do not.
Be Blessed!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
my piece for the class
Okay, weird. I'm new to blogging. I guess you cannot cut and paste your Word docs into the blog. I dont have time to retype it now but maybe I will later.
My piece for the class
Hi everybody,
The instructor still hasn't reviewed my piece which is a bit worrisome...maybe she hates it!! Yikes. I've received a few nice comments on it from all of you but thought I'd post it here too. This was edited down from about 2,600 words. I should have saved some of the original but I didn't.
Author time!
Just sent an email invite to Lulu...you should be seeing her name added to the author's list soon.
Welcome, Lulu! Glad you're joining us here!
Welcome, Lulu! Glad you're joining us here!
Friday, September 5, 2008
More new authors!
I just sent email invites to Nita and Maej from class. You should be seeing their names in the authors' list soon.
Welcome to both and we're so glad you're here!
Welcome to both and we're so glad you're here!
Freewrite
I am struggling with what to write but I am burning to write something. So I am starting a freewrite exercise to see where this might take me. I have so much to write about but cannot seem to organize my thoughts long enough to get them to make any kind of sense. The written word is quite tricky. It swirls around in my head but getting it on paper can be quite challenging.
I have had this feeling throughout my life not knowing what it was. I would at times do something simple like rearrange the furniture in my house, sometimes only one room other times every room or something more drastic like move to a new house or apartment or even better, start a new business. I wish I were exaggerating.
In 23 years I have moved 19 times. Yikes that’s almost one move a year; of course I went through a divorce within that time frame which accounted for some of those moves. As I write this I find myself getting a little freaked out, thinking, I was nuts! Nine of those moves were from boredom. Moving and decorating became a change that helped satisfy this feeling inside.
It seems like a simple resolution but I know now, that some of that was my creative side not being fulfilled. It was burning to get out. I didn’t know I had a creative side. I had buried my desire to write deep down due to childhood circumstances that I don’t care to get into at this time and had convinced myself that my bookkeeping mind didn’t have room to be creative anyway. I know now that isn’t true.
There is nothing more satisfying than writing something that pleases me, no clue if it is actually any good or if anyone else will like it, but I feel good. If I still smoked I might pull a cigarette from the package and take a satisfying drag after writing something I deem terrific, but alas I no longer smoke, which gives me one more opportunity to thank God for delivering me from yet another thing that held me captive.
I smoked 3 packs a day. I couldn’t breathe without a cigarette; I know that sounds like an utter contradiction, but I believed it to be allegorically true, that belief was very powerful.
Also when I was experiencing excruciating insecurities associated with my depression, cigarettes were a very good excuse to pull me from a room full of people to go outside to smoke, “alone.”
Standing outside alone could make me look unsociable; standing outside alone with a cigarette simply implied I was a smoker which didn’t require an explanation as I drug myself back into the mix of society. Those were very difficult times for me.
That’s it today. That is where this freewrite took me.
I review what I have written and sadly this isn’t one of those times I would pull a cigarette from the package, (sigh) if I still smoked of course, but it’s what evolved, so I will accept it and post it as it is. Maybe I’ll have something brilliant to write tomorrow.
I have had this feeling throughout my life not knowing what it was. I would at times do something simple like rearrange the furniture in my house, sometimes only one room other times every room or something more drastic like move to a new house or apartment or even better, start a new business. I wish I were exaggerating.
In 23 years I have moved 19 times. Yikes that’s almost one move a year; of course I went through a divorce within that time frame which accounted for some of those moves. As I write this I find myself getting a little freaked out, thinking, I was nuts! Nine of those moves were from boredom. Moving and decorating became a change that helped satisfy this feeling inside.
It seems like a simple resolution but I know now, that some of that was my creative side not being fulfilled. It was burning to get out. I didn’t know I had a creative side. I had buried my desire to write deep down due to childhood circumstances that I don’t care to get into at this time and had convinced myself that my bookkeeping mind didn’t have room to be creative anyway. I know now that isn’t true.
There is nothing more satisfying than writing something that pleases me, no clue if it is actually any good or if anyone else will like it, but I feel good. If I still smoked I might pull a cigarette from the package and take a satisfying drag after writing something I deem terrific, but alas I no longer smoke, which gives me one more opportunity to thank God for delivering me from yet another thing that held me captive.
I smoked 3 packs a day. I couldn’t breathe without a cigarette; I know that sounds like an utter contradiction, but I believed it to be allegorically true, that belief was very powerful.
Also when I was experiencing excruciating insecurities associated with my depression, cigarettes were a very good excuse to pull me from a room full of people to go outside to smoke, “alone.”
Standing outside alone could make me look unsociable; standing outside alone with a cigarette simply implied I was a smoker which didn’t require an explanation as I drug myself back into the mix of society. Those were very difficult times for me.
That’s it today. That is where this freewrite took me.
I review what I have written and sadly this isn’t one of those times I would pull a cigarette from the package, (sigh) if I still smoked of course, but it’s what evolved, so I will accept it and post it as it is. Maybe I’ll have something brilliant to write tomorrow.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Heading to the Oregon Coast with my Pen and Paper
Hello All,
I will be leaving for the Oregon Coast (never been there) this Saturday for a week. I have planned to take a pad of paper and a pen just in case I come up with some great story ideas. Plus, I hurt my knee, so I will be taking it easy. The doctor said that I have a torn ACL (one of the tendons that holds your knee in place).
Bruised Bone ( which takes 3 months to heal and is painful)
Bruised Meniscus ( the cushion that in the joint of the knee)
He gave me a cortisone shot for the pain and inflammation (since I am going on vacation this Saturday to the Coast).
If still having problems in two weeks to call. And then if still having problems by Halloween, may need to have surgery to fix the torn ACL.
FUN FUN
So, I will miss you all while I am gone.....but hope to return with some good stories to write about.
Denise (NeiserDawn)
I will be leaving for the Oregon Coast (never been there) this Saturday for a week. I have planned to take a pad of paper and a pen just in case I come up with some great story ideas. Plus, I hurt my knee, so I will be taking it easy. The doctor said that I have a torn ACL (one of the tendons that holds your knee in place).
Bruised Bone ( which takes 3 months to heal and is painful)
Bruised Meniscus ( the cushion that in the joint of the knee)
He gave me a cortisone shot for the pain and inflammation (since I am going on vacation this Saturday to the Coast).
If still having problems in two weeks to call. And then if still having problems by Halloween, may need to have surgery to fix the torn ACL.
FUN FUN
So, I will miss you all while I am gone.....but hope to return with some good stories to write about.
Denise (NeiserDawn)
New author
Just sent an email invite to another new author, Marita! You should be seeing her name on the right soon. Welcome, Marita!
Question about writing classes
I know a few of you mentioned on the class discussion boards that you were going to take more writing classes. I thought it might be interesting to hear which classes people are taking and why. Or what about classes you've taken in the past...is there any class out there you've taken that you would recommend (or not recommend)?
Starting September 17th, I'll be in "Writeriffic: Creativity Training for Writers." I decided on another, more beginning-type class because I feel I still have a lot more work to do regarding discipline in writing and also editing. I'm taking baby steps here in hopes that I'm building a strong foundation for good writing in the future.
Starting September 17th, I'll be in "Writeriffic: Creativity Training for Writers." I decided on another, more beginning-type class because I feel I still have a lot more work to do regarding discipline in writing and also editing. I'm taking baby steps here in hopes that I'm building a strong foundation for good writing in the future.
New Author update
Jessica just got her email invite and should be joining us soon. Welcome, Jessica!
Monday, September 1, 2008
HP contest
In July the Leaky Cauldron (a Harry Potter fan site) had a contest to write about a story about a character that wasn't one of the main characters. I submitted the following story and thought it wasn't too bad. Of course I didn't win anything....too bad Ann's point of view lesson didn't occur prior to this. As I reread it I see can see some mistakes (changing POV, adverbs in explaining description). I thought I would go ahead and post it in case many of your are interested in HP like me. Here you are:
Arthur’s Question
“Isn’t it lovely, Arthur?”
“Ummm,” he replied distractedly to his beloved young Molly.
Standing near the edge of the lake along the stony beach, Molly looked at the breathtaking view. The flowers were in full bloom and the grass was lush and deeply green from the recent rains. She bent down to reach for a blossom. The fragrant air filled her nose as she inhaled.
Beside her Arthur’s hand fidgeted constantly in the pockets of his black trousers hidden beneath the rumpled well-worn cloak. Perspiration beads at his brow trickled down to his nose causing his glasses to slip. He reached up to loosen the tie around his throat that began to feel like a noose.
“I can’t believe the term is almost over,” Molly sighed standing up. “I’m going to miss this place. Things are going to change now that we won’t be returning to Hogwarts.”
“Yes,” agreed Arthur looking off into the distance. “The times are changing but not in the way you think.” He continued, “There are rumors that terrible things are beginning to happen. People are whispering and are scared. You’ve got to be careful.”
“I know,” Molly replied casually watching a barn owl fly to the owlery. A small parcel was clenched in its claws.
“No, Molly. I mean you really need to be careful. Extremely careful,” stressed Arthur. Turning towards Molly his eyes widened with fear. He pulled a clammy hand out of his pocket and took one of Molly’s hands in his own. “I’m worried.”
Not noticing Arthur’s concern, Molly said, “Arthur… why is your hand so sweaty? You’re not getting ill are you?” She continued to watch the owl fly overhead.
“No Molly,” replied Arthur, “I am not sick. I’m concerned about your safety.”
Molly turned to look directly into Arthur’s green eyes. “What are you saying Arthur?”
“Molly, I’m saying that with all the things that are going on, dark times are coming. I can feel it; some say a war is coming. And that means…” he paused to run his fingers through his red hair, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
“I wouldn’t want to lose you either, darling. I love you.”
“No, I mean I really don’t want to lose you. I can’t image my life without you. You’re everything to me.”
Arthur let go of Molly’s hand. Moving his robe aside, Arthur reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out cause of his nervousness. It was a beautiful antique ring. It had been in the Weasley family for generations. The diamond was small but adequate. He held it up for Molly to see.
His throat tightened and felt parched. With a large swallow Arthur’s voice choked out, “My dearest Molly Prewett, will you marry me?”
Molly didn’t know what to say. She was flabbergasted with the turn of events. She knew in her
heart that Arthur was the only one for her but she didn’t know that marriage was so close in their future. Standing there her legs began to become weak and shaky. She looked out at the sky becoming tints of red and purple.
Arthur waited several moments before questioning once again, “Molly?” There was a hint of anxiety in his voice. Was Molly not ready for this? Was she going to say no to his proposal? Maybe the timing was all wrong?
“Yes.” Tears sprang to Molly’s eyes. The emotion felt inside was bubbling to the surface.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” Molly said looking back to Arthur.
“Oh Molly….” He grabbed her around the waist and swung her around in a circle. There was joy and relief in his face.
“Arthur. Arthur!” she said the second time a little louder, “Put me down. Please.”
Carefully setting her feet down back on the rocks Arthur felt Molly’s legs wobble as she touched down. She was trembling. Arthur hoped it was from the exhilaration of the moment.
Holding her face gingerly in his well-worn hands Arthur asked one more time. “Are you sure Molly? Are you sure… Mollywobbles… that you want to marry me, Arthur Weasley? I can’t offer you much but I can offer you my heart. It’s everything I have.”
Molly shook her head yes.
Tenderly Arthur slipped the well-worn ring onto Molly’s left third finger where it would stay forever as a representation of their devotion to one another.
As the sun began to fade and the bats flew above the Forbidden Forest, Molly and Arthur turned to walk hand-in-hand back up the hill to the Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts castle.
Arthur’s Question
“Isn’t it lovely, Arthur?”
“Ummm,” he replied distractedly to his beloved young Molly.
Standing near the edge of the lake along the stony beach, Molly looked at the breathtaking view. The flowers were in full bloom and the grass was lush and deeply green from the recent rains. She bent down to reach for a blossom. The fragrant air filled her nose as she inhaled.
Beside her Arthur’s hand fidgeted constantly in the pockets of his black trousers hidden beneath the rumpled well-worn cloak. Perspiration beads at his brow trickled down to his nose causing his glasses to slip. He reached up to loosen the tie around his throat that began to feel like a noose.
“I can’t believe the term is almost over,” Molly sighed standing up. “I’m going to miss this place. Things are going to change now that we won’t be returning to Hogwarts.”
“Yes,” agreed Arthur looking off into the distance. “The times are changing but not in the way you think.” He continued, “There are rumors that terrible things are beginning to happen. People are whispering and are scared. You’ve got to be careful.”
“I know,” Molly replied casually watching a barn owl fly to the owlery. A small parcel was clenched in its claws.
“No, Molly. I mean you really need to be careful. Extremely careful,” stressed Arthur. Turning towards Molly his eyes widened with fear. He pulled a clammy hand out of his pocket and took one of Molly’s hands in his own. “I’m worried.”
Not noticing Arthur’s concern, Molly said, “Arthur… why is your hand so sweaty? You’re not getting ill are you?” She continued to watch the owl fly overhead.
“No Molly,” replied Arthur, “I am not sick. I’m concerned about your safety.”
Molly turned to look directly into Arthur’s green eyes. “What are you saying Arthur?”
“Molly, I’m saying that with all the things that are going on, dark times are coming. I can feel it; some say a war is coming. And that means…” he paused to run his fingers through his red hair, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
“I wouldn’t want to lose you either, darling. I love you.”
“No, I mean I really don’t want to lose you. I can’t image my life without you. You’re everything to me.”
Arthur let go of Molly’s hand. Moving his robe aside, Arthur reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out cause of his nervousness. It was a beautiful antique ring. It had been in the Weasley family for generations. The diamond was small but adequate. He held it up for Molly to see.
His throat tightened and felt parched. With a large swallow Arthur’s voice choked out, “My dearest Molly Prewett, will you marry me?”
Molly didn’t know what to say. She was flabbergasted with the turn of events. She knew in her
heart that Arthur was the only one for her but she didn’t know that marriage was so close in their future. Standing there her legs began to become weak and shaky. She looked out at the sky becoming tints of red and purple.
Arthur waited several moments before questioning once again, “Molly?” There was a hint of anxiety in his voice. Was Molly not ready for this? Was she going to say no to his proposal? Maybe the timing was all wrong?
“Yes.” Tears sprang to Molly’s eyes. The emotion felt inside was bubbling to the surface.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” Molly said looking back to Arthur.
“Oh Molly….” He grabbed her around the waist and swung her around in a circle. There was joy and relief in his face.
“Arthur. Arthur!” she said the second time a little louder, “Put me down. Please.”
Carefully setting her feet down back on the rocks Arthur felt Molly’s legs wobble as she touched down. She was trembling. Arthur hoped it was from the exhilaration of the moment.
Holding her face gingerly in his well-worn hands Arthur asked one more time. “Are you sure Molly? Are you sure… Mollywobbles… that you want to marry me, Arthur Weasley? I can’t offer you much but I can offer you my heart. It’s everything I have.”
Molly shook her head yes.
Tenderly Arthur slipped the well-worn ring onto Molly’s left third finger where it would stay forever as a representation of their devotion to one another.
As the sun began to fade and the bats flew above the Forbidden Forest, Molly and Arthur turned to walk hand-in-hand back up the hill to the Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts castle.
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