Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Sometimes It Just Comes to You

I had a line stick in my head enough to make me want to write about it. Tonight, with pen in hand, I sat down & put it to use.


She counted on me
In her time of need
I was not enough
Most assuredly
She required more

A time before
On the cusp of eternity
Where life stood
Long and high before me
More than exist
Thriving and dominating
Designed to conquer
And I did

Stark shadows loomedI
n the impending darkness
The connect was lost
Electricity once flowed
Powerful and defining
From my hand, my gift
Not potent nor healing
Now twisted and fated

Crimson waves cascaded
Through secreted openings
Pounding beats echoed
Rhythmic and circadian
Of ancient lore and tribal wisdom
Passed from elder to me
And I, wiser by opportunity
Watched the last of her
The end of her line
Fade before me
With knotted hands.

In case you were wondering what "the line" was that stuck with me, it was... "She counted on me."

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Example of 10 Minute Writing Exercise

In both the Creative Writing class I just finished & the Walkerton Writers Group I just started, ten minutes seems to be the magic number for the length of time we should get for a writing exercise. Depending on the topic, ten minutes can be too much time, too little time; move too quickly, move not quickly enough; and sometimes, just right. Typically, I don't get too caught up in finding the 'perfect' story to write about. It is a ten minute exercise, after all.

In my first Walkerton Writers Meeting last week, we were given the writing prompt "I've never been so scared in my life" for our exercise. In my ten minutes, I wrote the following:

I've never been so scared in my life as I was when my little dog, Orion, ran out of the house on that dark night in January.

I opened the door to step outside to retrieve the mail and before I could close it behind me, he was through my legs and down the stairs. I didn't expect him to go far since the ground was covered in days old snow and he's only 15" high to the tips of his perked ears. Unfortunately,m Orion had other plans, taking advantage of the cleared paths and shooting straight down the driveway to the street.

A million scenarios flashed through my mind as I considered how I might find him in the dark. Without a flashlight, there was not enough light to navigate my way through the banked snow. Yet, going inside to find a working flashlight sounded like a time-consuming effort in futility. Still, I opted to search for a flashlight, quickly found one and ran back into the freezing night calling the escapee's name.

I paused every once in a while to listen for the telltale jingle of his collar and continued dow the street in hopes I'd picked the same direction he'd chosen.

After what seemed like an eternity, I turned into the darkness in time to see glance my way and attempt another escape. Calmly, I knelt down, lured him closer with loving, sweet sounds. He ambled my way, crossed right outside of my reach and raced down the street in the opposite direction. The same direction from where I saw headlights approaching in my direction. I doubted the oncoming traffic would see such a small pup, so I did what any mother would do and stood in the middle of the road.
... and then she called time. Ten minutes was up.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

From My Sketchbook...

Taking a break from writing to show shots from my sketchbook...

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

An Anchor in the Day

Another Creative Writing assignment... the last for the class...

I scheduled Friday for an appointment away from work and used it as an excuse to stay out of the office all day. It gave me the chance to sleep in late and not rush out the door still bleary-eyed as I usually do.

The weather cooperated by summoning up a beautiful sunny, yet very blustery, day. I don’t mind the wind; I love the sound of my wind chimes clanging their unique song. And where other people look to the treetops in fear of when they might topple over, I become lost in the way their spindly arms dance and sway from side to side. As much as the ocean waves lull me to deep sleep, so does the sound of the wind rounding the corner of my house.

With time to spare before the appointment and an intense need to keep myself busy while I waited for Aaron to come home, I pulled my well-worn journal out and perched on the edge of the bed. Leaning closer to the nightstand, I reached out and snagged my favorite pen—or perhaps, pen of the moment—and let it slide into the familiar groove in my hand.

Comfortable… that’s exactly how I felt grasping a pen. Sometimes I have an overpowering urge to write, but nothing in my head to write about. So I grab a pen of assorted color and take note of the way the ink flows over the paper or the way the paper absorbs the ink. I keep going, writing nothing, scribbling anything, until my hand gets tired.

As I waited, I let my feelings about the morning and the impending appointment cascade in waves from my mind onto the paper. Soon the page was covered in neat, controlled purple strokes, reminding me of the beauty in a handwritten love note. Lost in the moment, I didn’t give consideration to words or sentence structure but realize the casual observer wouldn’t even have a passing interest in the content.

Suddenly, my concentration broke with the sound of my cell phone playing “Shameless” by Garth Brooks. Aaron was calling—perhaps he was nearby. I paused to take the call and heard Aaron’s voice on the other end, “I’m in the driveway. I’ve been down here for a few minutes.”

“Were you planning on staying down there much longer without telling me you were waiting?” I asked.

Begrudgingly, I capped the pen and put it back on the nightstand. I hated disruptions when I was trying to get my thoughts on paper, but this couldn’t be helped. I had an appointment that needed to be kept. One thing was certain however—after the meeting, I’d have more than enough to write about. I had better check my pen stock!