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Stories…When an idea becomes a story
Sometimes stories float around in a writer’s mind a long time before they come to any real form. I have a character that keeps coming to mind as I am trying to fall asleep. She is a strong woman with three lives. She passes in and out of each of the three lives every year on August first. She actually ages and is reborn into a new life and three personalities every 80 years or so. She refers to herself as a “Reborn.” Remembering each life that she lives is one of her demons. She is reborn so many times that eventually she begins running into the family members and acquaintances over and over. She begins to understand that she is not the only reborn and develops a theory of who in her lives has the same condition. If she admits her condition to another, will they put her in a mental hospital or will she find another reborn? Each lifetime she lives, she lives one less year in the next life. Eventually, she will run out of lives and then what? What if you had to relive going through adolescence, break-ups, paper-cuts, childbirth, weddings, funerals, and the roller coaster of living over, and over, and over. What would you question about life, about God, about existence? Let me know if this sounds like a decent story to develop or pursue. Should I continue to roll it around in my mind or put pen to paper?
Filed under Uncategorized
Where?
Where do flies go in winter?
Do they have a fly beach where they all go as a winter playground. Is there a miniature smorgasbord of trashcan delicacy that they gather around in a human all-you-can-eat fashion?
Where do the worms go in the winter?
Do they have a deep center of the earth terrarium that looks like Verne’s journey? Imagine the worms in the millions there and why had Verne’s characters not followed them as they migrated back to the top of the earth’s surface?
Where do we go in the winter?
Much like our lessor sized animal inhabitants, some hibernate and only leave dwellings to go from one to another. We don’t hunt, we don’t wander, and we don’t forage. We run from behind walls to another set for protection and hibernation. We eat up our stored foods and await the warm weather to return.
So are we so different from the worm or the fly?Not really.
We just take up more space and when we do meet, discuss the misery we share of the cold.
Filed under Prose, Uncategorized
Are you Kmart or Glow?
As I listened to the stories from the people I met at a gathering, I noticed two huge differences in personalities that were sitting at the same table. Two attitudes apparent to the point that I could see images hovering above their heads as they spoke.
The first person has a light bulb irratiating a shimmering glow above their head. He or she (Glow) has an authentic smile and listens more than speaks. When speaking about themselves, it involves describing an experience and their passion for their specialty of choice but not how the world is a better place for their experience. Glow speaks of living as beauty, sorrow, and a sense of respect for others. These are the people I most enjoy listening to when they speak because they describe their experiences in a story that anyone can appreciate. They share their wisdom without hitting me over the head to assure I understand just how smart they are. Their story is tempered with kindness and interest in others comments or questions about their experiences. Glow is open to others points of view. They may not be educated at an Ivy League school, but the shimmering glow envelopes their experiences of life and humility to accept others that might have similar experiences to share with them.
The second person has a “Kmart Blue Light Special” light flashing annoyingly above their head. Kmart sits at a table surrounded by others calling attention to the flashing by telling of how inspiring the ideas are coming from Kmart’s mouth. Most sentences spoken by Kmart begin with, “I.” Kmart becomes enchanted listening to others only when they are speaking about Kmart’s work and accomplishments. When Kmart asks a question and receives an answer, Kmart turns out its light to signal the conversation is not deserving of the blue flashing glow. Negative and condescending comments are the standard when Kmart speaks of the accomplishments of others. Although Kmart assures us they have so much experience that it is unlikely they can be taught something they don’t know, this person will never really be wise. They are experienced and even somewhat intelligent, but not wise. There is a difference in being well educated, intelligent, and wise. There were a handful of people at this gathering that met these descriptions but of the two I have described, only one was easily categorized as wise.
The wise man sitting at the table listened intently to all the conversations and added to them instead of taking attention from them. A wise man knows that he will never know everything as the sum of the knowledge of all-mankind is to vast for one man to absorb. In wisdom, this person will not only share their experiences with someone, but listen to the intimate stories of another person and invest themselves in conversing about those experiences. The wise person may be a man or woman, may be well-dressed or unshaven. They are thinkers, they are listeners, and they speak when they have something to say that is not an accolade of their fame to gain attention.
The well-educated man may have varied levels of degrees from institutions of learning, or may not have actually graduated or received any reward for their intelligence. Perhaps their intelligence has come from immersion in reading, living, and experiencing travel. The intelligent person is as good at listening as speaking. He is constantly seeking a better understanding of the world around him.
Then, there is the intelligent man. “He is so intelligent he was offered a full scholarship by both Harvard and Stanford.” Higher intelligence can be intimidating to the general population. And maybe that is so because intelligence is the most measured state of a man. Testing is given to prove intelligence, and is offered to judge the ability to succeed at all levels. Creativity is not necessary to be intelligent, nor is the ability to speak well in public. Some of the most intelligent people I know are socially inept. Almost every incredibly intelligent person I have met never speak of themselves as intelligent. Their minds are to busy solving problems and discussing new observations. Their minds are so busy on the next challenge that they are often introverts. They sometimes cannot focus well in conversation because their minds are a jump ahead to an idea that was brought on by one word or idea said in the previous conversation.
Of the two described characters of Kmart and Glow who sat in front of me not long ago, it was Glow’s wisdom that kept me from saying what I was thinking to Kmart. No matter what I would have said to the person in response to their disrespectful comments to others, Kmart would have gone on to believe a self image of intelligence over others even if they were a Nobel Prize winner. Narcissists exist everywhere, but until that day I had not really found anyone who truly exhibited all the characteristics in such a flamboyant way.
By the end of the evening, I felt sorry for Kmart. Not only did Kmart not fit into any one category of wise, intelligent, or well-educated with any absolute, but seemed be working hard to impress the group. Pity on the person who spends so much time in reverence of themselves that they cannot appreciate the magnificence all around them. Kmart will be repeating negative comments to all that will listen, and will not feel any better about themselves for their experience. I try to find myself somewhere in between these three personalities. A little wise, a little intelligent, and a little well-educated but always willing to learn more every day.
Filed under Murphy's Law, Uncategorized
Perspective
Tonight, having had a bad day, I went to the movies alone. I often find escaping to a theatre, lights low, music loud, allows me to escape momentarily from things I don’t want to think about in my own life. In this case, I sat and watched the movie “Argo” unfold. I was transported back to the seventies, with the pork chop sideburns, the bell bottoms, polyester suits, and large collared shirts. The late seventies held my transition into puberty and many scenes on television of the middle east burning the American flag and parading American citizens around Tehran blindfolded. The Iran Hostage crisis new reels were not just a history lesson for me as it was for some in the theatre tonight. I remember it vividly. I remember questioning for the first time why I was hated because I was American when I thought it was the best place in the world. Politics were not as important to me as who I sat with on the bus in the morning. I had sugar on my cocoa wheats and all seemed right from my side of the world. Yet, on television we saw women covered in sheets and men with beards screaming obscenities about our country. The 52 hostages were paraded in front of cameras to show the power of the rebellious Iranian students. I felt an anger rising toward a cultural group, much like they had voiced toward us. The lines were being drawn and I was not sure why, but knew what side of the line I was on. Eight service men died trying a failed rescue attempt, and their bodies were paraded unmercifully in front of cameras in spectacle. Yes, in my mind the line was drawn that day. I had enemies for the first time.
My enemy was targeted, but Argo was a little off the mark. Argo is not completely accurate, filled with dramatic and creative non-fiction about the staging of the rescue. However, the story of the six that got out, with the efforts of the Canadians and a few of our CIA operatives after a few months hidden in Tehran, was dramatically told. The script was engaging, the action was tense, and the dramatic scenes broke me out in a sweat as I waited on the edge of my seat for the six to barely escape capture. It was not a story that I knew much about. The 52 hostages had taken center stage, and the Canadians took the credit for the escape of the early six. Regardless of the accuracy, this movie not only brought a real life tension to an incredible story, but it allows for many who may not have been alive at this time to view a small part of a bigger story of cultural and social tensions still very much alive today.
Tensions are still high between Iran and America. Although, I cannot say that I still feel any bold hatred for a people who have known many hundreds of years of war and poverty. Only one year ago, two American hikers were released from Iran after being held for two years because they wondered across the wrong border. The incidents and the tensions will not likely ever cease between the middle east and the U.S. This picture forces the public to re-evaluate our citizens roles in effecting foreign politics, our roles as Americans in electing our government leaders, and our roles as citizens in our democracy. It is appropriate that I saw this movie today, the day before elections. It is appropriate that I saw this movie the same day as some bad news was received from the IRS regarding an audit. However large we see our personal problems, they are not as big as the world’s problems. I will take an audit any day of the week versus living in a war torn country where I cannot speak my mind, where I have to keep my head covered, where I cannot speak against government leaders without risking harm to my family or myself. So, no matter what your taste in politics, vote. Vote because YOU CAN.
Filed under Uncategorized
Building a New Business
This is certainly a difficult road to choose, the one of building your own business versus working for someone else. Little sleep, little money, and lots of effort in networking to build a client base. Most of my real writing work comes very late at night and into the early morning hours. The world is sleeping, including my dog, and I get to tap tap away on the keyboard, correcting, proofreading, and offering editing comments to clients who are fast asleep.
I have spent little time lately on my fiction writing while I am busy reading and editing for others. However, I still enjoy what I do very much. The creativity involved allows for more of my unique qualities to shine. I go out and take photographs when the sun comes up, or late at night when shadows prevail. My photographs are liked for some book cover designs and that is also a thrilling passion to fulfill. Creation of art and meaningful words will likely always fill up my heart, no matter how late I work, or how few clients I have, the words will still fill my journals every night.
Filed under On Writing, Uncategorized
The final product
When is the product you create really finished? It is hard to say for me. Everytime I read something I have created, I find a way to change it, or squeeze it, or peel off a layer, or add a spice here or there. I have a hard time letting go of a story, just like boxes of clothes in my basement that do not fit.
There have been times that I finish a work and brush it off, not having really liked the experience while writing it. These are usually assigned pieces which require little dramatic flare and little individual “voice.” Writing for a living is not always going to be fun, or meet the creative need to express my point of view. It will sometimes feel like a chore to meet the bills. However, I would not go back to nursing, or any other clock-in job for any reason. I love what I do and love the freedom it allows me. In what other job can you use your mind to share words that can create emotion and influence action?
Filed under On Writing, Uncategorized
Girls Getaway
When life gets girls down, we recharge by socializing with our best friends. Guys –they go fishing or indulge in their hobby of choice that does not involve talking about “their feelings.” Women vent frustrations with one another, talk trash about men, admire clothing they can not afford, and spend money on crap they don’t need. I just returned from a two day get away to Madison, Indiana with a girlfriend. We stayed at the state park inn which was beautiful and relaxing. After 12 years of friendship, no matter where we go, we manage to laugh until we cry and shop until we drop. It is nice to know someone so well that just a look on their face explains what they think and you begin to laugh. Thanks to my friend I have a little less baggage and a little more sanity.
Filed under Uncategorized
sherrystruthtofiction 