Dennis had some advice for writers that made perfect sense to me. 1) The character must want something. I’ve heard this one a gazillion times. For an example he said, “Mike realized that he was out of milk.” He noted that everyone in the room would keep reading the book to find out if Mike got his milk or not. and 2) Don’t think of yourself as a writer. Be a storyteller.
In other news, we went to the gym today, and I went swimming. My foot is still acting up, and hurts and generally annoys me. First I jumped–well, walked carefully and painfully–into the hot tub. The hot water felt like a big warm hug from the universe. But then after a few minutes, it just felt like a menopausal hot flash, so I got out and limped over to the pool. The water was coolly (is that a word?) refreshing, and it was quiet enough that I could ponder my life and times. Again, the pain of my cousin’s death consumed me. You know, that burning feeling in your stomach, like after a bad breakup, that creeps its way up into your heart. It wraps around your heart like a ring of thorns, and then squeezes, so that it hurts both emotionally and physically. It made me think of that Billie Holliday song, “Good Morning, Heartache.” You can listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zAB-WOpQEI
My son is at college, and I’m still waiting for him to call me. I am trying desperately to stop being a “Helicopter Mom” and it’s very difficult. “Old habits die hard” as the old cliché says. He did leave a message last night, so I’ll see if he calls back today.
Last week, my husband and I “got out of our zip code” and went to Lake Placid. At our hotel there is a “Great Room” which is an Adirondack style room, complete with fireplace, cathedral ceilings and assorted dead animal heads hanging on the wall. And large, huge, ginormous windows that over look Mirror Lake and the moutains. I was sitting in one of the big comfy chairs, thinking about how I am not working, partly due to various physical impairments, and partly due to losing my last job because I would not submit to a screaming, mean, short man. And I thought, will God still take care of me in my old age, since I have not followed the “usual” path of working 9 to 5. I looked up, and saw a rainbow…then I heard other people in the room saying, “Look, a rainbow,” and as soon as it came, it was gone.
I claimed that rainbow as mine, and that God was saying, “Yes I will always take care of you.” Of course, my cousin Michael is up there now, to bug Him for me. 🙂
And so, I have stuff to do today that I have not figured out yet, maybe hang up my clothes? Maybe sweep the floor? And tonight I am going to a Grief Support group at the church. I find the hardest part is not the current pain, but the OLD WOUNDS that have never healed that now have arrows, darts and thorns pricking at them due to this newest lost. I hope to finally work through the old emotions, the hurts from childhood, and to finally “unattach” my feelings from my food intake. That is what I want.
- 20 Ways to Tell You’re a Writer (coreymp.wordpress.com)
- Dialog: What’s Being Said, and What’s Not Being Said (whatifyoucouldnotfail.typepad.com)
- Random Short Story Competition – Shortlisted ‘New Writer’ Entries (blogaboutwriting.wordpress.com)
- What’s Up With Random Followers? (lifemultiplied.wordpress.com)