Story Cubes Story

All righty then. It took a little longer than I counted on, but I finally finished my Story Cubes story. The problem wasn’t the cubes, it was me. I was putting way too much pressure on myself. But Monday, when I was writing with a friend at the library, I had an epiphany. Empires were not going to rise or fall on the basis of this story. It was just an exercise, it was supposed to be for fun.

So I changed the name of my main character to Rainbow, who liked sunflowers, and turned the ghost back into my first impression, which was it was the person’s anger. After that I did a little free writing and everything fell into place. Easy peasy. LOL

Just a quick reminder of the cubes I was working with . . . for the character it was a sunflower, a rainbow, and an angry shadow. For the story I had an apple, water flowing under a bridge, tree, balance scales, fish, an L in a box, an arrow pointing down to the left, a worried face, and an open hand

And now, here’s the story:

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Rainbow Reid had a scowl on her face as she stomped between the rows of the trees in the apple orchard. Someone had been into her sunflowers. Again!

But this time, the culprit had left tracks. They were headed towards to stone bridge over the river. She didn’t know what she was going to do to the culprit when she found them, but it would be something dire, that she promised.

There! Right beside the step onto the bridge, the evidence. Two of her precious sunflowers. And there were tracks leading down the bank to under the bridge. They might as well have put an arrow pointing down for her to follow.

“You,” she called angrily. “Under the bridge. I know you’re down there, you might as well come out.”

There was the sound of movement, then a small, worried face appeared around the edge of the bridge. Rainbow took one look at the small boy and her anger was gone, like a shadow vanishing.

“C’mon,” Rainbow said, extending an open hand. “It’s not safe to play under there. You might fall in.”

“I wasn’t playing,” the boy said, taking her hand. “I was fishing.” He held up the bucket in his other hand, a small fishing rod sticking up out of it.

“What’s your name?” Rainbow asked when he was safely on the path.

“I’m Liam,” he said, pointing to the letter L someone had embroidered on his jacket.

“Are you the one who’s been picking my flowers?” Rainbow asked gently.

“Yes, ma’am,” he admitted, looking down at the ground.

“You know it’s wrong to take things that don’t belong to you, right Liam?”

“Yes, ma’am. But they weren’t for me, honest!” he said, looking at her earnestly. “They were for my gram. She’s feeling poorly and I thought they’d cheer her up.”

“I see,” Rainbow said. “And did they?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am! That’s why I come back for more. But I know you sell them for money down at the market, but I don’t have any money. But I can fish, so I thought if I caught you some fish it would kind of balance the scale.”

He said it all in one breath, and Rainbow was hard-pressed not to grin. Instead, she peered into the bucket, spying three fat trout.

“Well, Liam. It just so happens that I love trout almost as much as I love trout almost as much as I love my sunflowers. So I’d say it’s a fair trade.”

“Really?” Liam’s face lit up.

“Really. And if the flowers help your gram feel better, I give you permission to pick them again. But not too many, mind you. I’ll still need a few to take to market.”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am. Thank you!” He took his fishing rod and passed the bucket over to her, then picked up the flowers.

“If you come back tomorrow,” she told him, “You can pick up your bucket at my house.” She pointed to the cottage on the other side of the orchard. “I might even have a glass of milk and a cookie or two to spare.”

Liam grinned from ear to ear. “You can count on seeing me tomorrow,” he told her. “Thank you!”

Rainbow watched him with a smile as he hurried across the bridge on his way home. Making a new friend was definitely worth the price of a couple of sunflowers.

Story Cubes

In my last post I mentioned about using story aids to get creative with my writing. My original idea had been to coerce draft ask a friend to do it with me so I’d have a two-person review. I should have known that once I made the plan things would go awry.

When my friend and I first started getting together once a week, the intention was that we’d spend at least part of the time writing. However, we’d talk and go out to lunch and never get to the writing part. These story aids were supposed to change all that.

Unfortunately, my friend got called back to work for an 18 month contract. Figures. She dodged a bullet and I get to do these reviews by myself.

I decided to start with the Story Cubes There are nine, six-sided dice, with a picture on each of the six sides. You’re supposed to roll the dice and write according to the pictures that come up on the top of the dice.

Technically it’s more of a game, and it’s meant to be played with several players, but there is is a layout where you can use them solo. The layout is called My Hero. You roll three cubes and use them to create a character, or hero, then you roll all nine cubes and tell a story featuring your hero.

The three cubes I rolled for my character came up with: a sunflower, a rainbow, and an angry shadow. And here’s what I came up with for my character:

Her name is Sunflower Reid, her friends call her Sunny. Her parents signed over the deed to their small, but successful organic farm to her two years ago, leaving them free to travel the country in their Volkswagen camper van. She has a ghost attached to her, but I’m not sure at this point if this is a good thing, or a bad thing.

When I rolled all nine dice for my storyline, they came up: an apple, water flowing under a bridge, tree, balance scales, fish, an L in a box, an arrow pointing down to the left, a worried face, and an open hand.

I’m finding the Story Cubes both fun and a little bit challenging. I’ve spent a couple of days brainstorming and I think I’ve finally come up with a couple of story ideas. One is sweet and maybe a bit romantic, and the other is a little on the creepy side. Which one will I choose? You’ll have to wait and see. I’ll post it when I’m done. :-D

I’ve Got A Brilliant Idea . . .

I’m sure there’s not a writer out there who hasn’t used a prompt at one time or another to come up with a story idea. I’ve used prompt generators, picked words at random out of a dictionary, and scoured writing sites for their prompts. And I had a measure of success with all of them.

But over the years I’ve also picked up a few writing aids that are a little different, and in fact, they might even be a little fun, if I’d just get off my lazy butt and use them. I have:

1. Story Cubes. This is more of a game, but it still looks kind of fun. There are nine, six-sided dice, with a picture on each of the six sides. You’re supposed to roll all nine dice and write according to the pictures that come up on the top of the dice – three for the beginning, three for the middle, and three for the ending. To be honest, I’d forgotten I had these until I was looking for something else in the drawer I’d stashed them in. But they look like they might be fun.

2. Once Upon A Time, the Storytelling Card Game. I’m pretty sure I bought this for my granddaughter, and it looked like so much fun I bought one for myself. It, too, ended up in a drawer, forgotten. This also is a card game, but looks kind of complicated. One player is the Storyteller, and the others use their cards to interrupt them and take over the story. The winner is the first one to use up all their cards, and you all end up with a story at the end.

3. The Archetype Cards, created by Caroline Myss. This is a set of 80 cards and it comes with an instruction booklet. Each card has an Archetype on it, with a description of both the light and the shadow attributes of the Archetype, and the booklet goes into a little more depth for each card. I was in a small writing group a few years ago, and sometimes we’d each pull a card at random and write about whatever Archetype we picked.

4. Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones Deck. These are a little more straightforward. It’s a set of 60 cards, with a topic (not a prompt) written on one side and an insight into writing on the other. Just pick one and start writing.

5. Tarot cards. At one time I used the Tarot to tell people their fortunes. I was pretty good at it too - so good that I scared myself so I gave them up. But I still have several decks, and I’m slowly trying to get back in the swing of it. And whether you tell fortunes with them or not, it’s still an interesting way to come up with a story idea. Pick one (or even better several) at random and write about what the cards say to you.

6. The Story Oracle. This was a Christmas gift from a friend. They’re billed as a creative writing inspiration deck, and seem to work on the same principle as the Tarot. There are 78 cards, like the Tarot, and two meanings for each card depending on whether it falls right side up or upside down. The accompanying booklet has suggestions for several different spreads, but I would think any Tarot spread would work.

My brilliant idea is to use one of these story aids a week, and then report back here as to how they worked and if they worked. If nothing else, I’ll have a guaranteed six weeks worth of blog posts. LOL

Editing Analogy

When I was sitting in the library with a writing buddy, staring out the window at the river below, I started thinking about how editing was like a snake shedding its skin. How the outer skin, like superfluous words, is left behind.

But then I thought maybe a better analogy would be the life cycle of a butterfly. Your idea is like the first glimmer of an idea. Some will hatch, some won’t. One idea will make it though, just like one egg will turn into a caterpillar. The caterpillar begins to grow and expand, consuming food to gain nutrients. Your story begins to grow and expand as you add words and details.

The caterpillar finally finishes its cycle of growth. It stops and begins to shed its skin while at the same time creating a cocoon to aid in its transformation. The transformation for your story is the editing process, where your words are refined and polished. The caterpillar turns mushy as it re-forms, just as your story may get worse before it gets better.

Finally, the cocoon splits open and a beautiful butterfly emerges. You finally lay down your pen and your story or novel is done.

The novel I’m working on right now is well into the mushy stage of editing. I knew going in it was going to be a beast to edit – it’s the fifth book in a series and I thought I was being smart doing it for NaNoWriMo. I was not. NaNo was all about the quantity of words, not the quality, and I’m paying for it now.

So far I’ve scrapped the idea of starting each chapter with an excerpt from “historic records.” I rewrote the prologue three times before scrapping it altogether and starting fresh. And I’ve re-ordered the first five chapters several times.

But I’m getting closer. It may take longer than I’d hoped, but soon my story will be ready to break out of its cocoon. And I dare to say it’ll be worth the wait.

I Lost My List

Yup, that’s right. Somewhere between checking out at one grocery store and parking at the next one, I lost my grocery list. Now this might not be a big deal to some of you out there, but it’s a very big deal to me.

I kept a pad and pen stuck to the refrigerator and my husband and I both put things on the grocery list as we run out of them. Without the list it’s chaos as I try to remember what we might need. It’s also expensive because I’ll buy things, not knowing if I actually need them or not.

But it got me thinking . . . I used to have a lot of success following lists. And I daresay I was more productive when I kept daily “to-do” lists, things I wanted to accomplish during the day.

Lists help us remember things we might otherwise forget, like groceries. Memory needs structure, a connection, but a list can be utterly random. We can add or subtract from a list. Who doesn’t love the rush of crossing things off your list? They can give you satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment.

The act of creating a list can also trigger ideas for other things. Say you make a list of things you want to remember to include in a story, one of those things might get you thinking in another direction, which could lead to a whole new story.

Lists are concise and orderly. They can convey a lot of information in just a few words. They’re small and to the point, and can make a task seem not quite so formidable. And a pro and con list can be a great help in decision making.

To help break bad habits, try making a “Not-to-Do” list. Do not spend so much time playing games. Do not eat keep eating after you’re full. Do not spend so much money on things you don’t need on Amazon.

A list can save you time by laying out what you need to do so you can prioritize the parts of a task. A grocery list can save you money by letting you know exactly what you need so you’re not wandering around the store, like me, buying random items.

I get distracted easily, and I’m weak when it comes to wasting time on things like binge reading. After careful consideration, I think I’m going to try doing a daily to-do list, just jotting down things I’d like to accomplish, one day at a time.

In the meantime, as far as grocery shopping goes, I’m going to start taking a picture of my list before I shop.

Welcome Back

Well. That was another break that was longer than I expected. I swear there were several times I was going to do a blog post here, but then I’d get distracted and . . . well, you know how that goes. I have not yet earned my vanity plates. *hangs head sadly*

But this is a new year, and while it’s not a new me, it’s a more determined me. I spent the entire day yesterday cleaning my desk and reorganizing the bookcases behind my desk to make a space more conducive to spending more time in my office, hopefully writing.

I may have thought I was over the reading madness, when last I posted, but I was not. My Achilles heel seems to be boxed sets of fated mates, whether they be to aliens or shifters. And Amazon appears to be full of them. *sigh*

Yesterday I updated my Goodreads goal so I could start fresh for the new year. My original goal was to read 75 books in the year. But halfway through the year I had to upgrade that number to 100, and then 150. By the end of yesterday my total sat at 222 books for the year. So my first goal for the new year is less reading, more writing.

I also want to spend at least an hour a day in my office. Maybe there’ll be days where all I do is push papers around, but I want to build a habit of being in there.

When I started meeting with an old friend on Wednesdays, the idea was to inspire each other to write. We wrote as teenagers and she wanted to get back into it. This has not been happening. We usually reminisce and go out to lunch, then reminisce some more. Sometimes we go shopping. I told her that starting in the new year I wanted us to start getting some writing in on our Wednesdays. Only time will tell if this happens.

Meanwhile, someone from a writing group I was in a few years ago got in touch with me, looking to see if I wanted to get together at the library the next town over to work on our writing together. It’s kind of like the write-ins from NaNo. We meet and write with very little talking. The focus is on the writing. And I’ve been getting some editing done on Elemental Spirit. It’s finally going in the direction it needs to do. So that’s a step in the right direction.

Early last year I realized that my writing was being subsumed by my crafting. The stitchery guild I was part of took up a lot of my time, and honestly crafting seemed easier than writing. But I’ve slowly been turning that around and I’ve put the crafting in the back seat where it belongs. Now I just have to do the same for my reading. LOL

This ‘N That

Once again it’s been a while, but at least it hasn’t been another 18 months. :-D

What can I say? The spirit was willing but the rest of me had a bunch of stuff on the go. I was on the committee for the Northumberland Hills Stitchery Guild’s 40th Anniversary Tea, and as such there was planning and meetings, etc., which I took part in. Then there was the baking . . . oh, so much baking: 3 dozen mini plain scones, 3 dozen mini ginger scones, 3 dozen mini blueberry scones, not to mention a batch that was gluten free. Then there was 30 mini quiches, 24 crustless quiches, 30 lemon tarts, 24 mini cheesecakes, and a few dozen brownies – some of which were gluten free.

At the same time, I was also making a dress for the granddaughter’s last father/daughter ball. The theme was Under the Sea, and because it was the last time she’d be able to participate (they have a cut off year for age) I went all out. She requested a dress with squid tentacles, and I was happy to oblige. I used iridescent organza to give it the underwater effect.

I only planned to take the weekend off after that, to give myself time to recuperate, but a funny thing happened . . . I picked up the latest Nora Roberts book (that I hadn't read yet), and when I was finished reading it I may have, kind of, kept going. As in, I pulled about half a dozen previously read books off my shelf and read them, too.

The good news is, I think I’m over the reading madness and I’m back to reading just a couple of hours a day. And I have nothing major going on, except hanging with the granddaughter four days a week. They’re not even full days either, just from lunch time to late afternoon, leaving my mornings free for writing.

But even with my reading binge, it’s not like I haven’t been doing any writing. I’ve been doing my morning pages . . . granted sometimes it’s more like morning page, and I’ve been doing a daily three-minute word, where I pick a word at random and write for three minutes using it as a prompt.

Sometimes I take the notebook I use for my morning pages with me when I go for my morning walk and sit down on the pier to write. I’ve seen some interesting characters, and I’ve come up with at least one potential story idea. It’s something to work on when I need a break from editing An Elemental Spirit.

I’ve set myself a goal for Elemental Spirit. I want to be able to release it into the wild by the end of the year, or, most likely, January of next year. I’m going to deserve those vanity plates yet!

Weird, or What?

William Shatner used to host a series by that name, but I tell you, it didn't come close to what I saw recently. Last weekend, I went to the Oddities and Curiosities Expo in Toronto. And let me tell you, I wasn’t disappointed. It was both odd, and very curious!

The exhibits ranged from kitschy to weird to downright creepy. But they didn’t hold a candle to the people attending. Most were dressed in costumes that were an interesting cross between steam punk and goth. I wish I’d taken pictures of them. Granted some were kind of lame, like the girl wearing a slip over top of a track suit, but some were outstanding, like the Victorian style, black lace wedding gown, complete with black lace gloves.

The merchandise . . . Wow, what can I say about the variety? I mean, sure there were pictures, and paintings, and tee shirts, and jewelry. But there was also a large selection of books on magic and demonology, herbs and potions, scented candles, crystals – so many crystals. There were masks and stuffies, papier mâché creatures, amazingly creepy dolls, dioramas, insects under glass, bleached bones, and let’s not forget the vast display of stuffed animals, literally, via taxidermy.

There were squirrels dressed like dolls, weasels in Victorian garb, jackalopes, and just ordinary animals – baby chicks, a lot of rabbits, coyotes, a really beautiful rooster, and a full sized bear. But my favorite was this guy:

I have got to write a story featuring this guy. A pet? A familiar? The main character? I don’t know yet, but he needs a story, don’t you think?

Even if you’re not into the weird or the creepy or the scary, there was plenty of story fodder at this show. Personally, my flash stories tend to be weird and/or creepy, and you can bet future stories will contain details of what I saw.

I found out about the taxidermy workshop too late to participate, which was probably just as well because I heard it was rather pricey. But I did get my palm read by one of the psychics, and I bought a set of oracle cards. You know, to be kept with all the other sets of oracle cards I have but never use. ;-)

The Expo was definitely time well spent. And next year when I go, because I will be going next year, maybe I’ll take a few pictures of the characters I see. Not to post online of course, but as reference material for creating characters in my stories.

Break Time’s Over

Wow. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? When I decided to take a blogging break back in December of 2023 (was it really that long ago?) I honestly didn’t expect it to turn into an 18 month hiatus. Just a few weeks to clear my head, that’s all I intended. But weeks turned into months, and the months started piling up. So, what happened?

Looking back, I did a lot of blogging in 2023. So much so it was starting to become a real chore. And the writing I was doing seemed to be more for the blog than for me.

I was doing these big, long, wordage report posts for Sundays – and it would take me most of the weekend to do them. I’d preface them with some words of wisdom, something writing related usually, which meant research and finding just the right quotes.

Then I’d do a week in review piece, followed by a breakdown of the words I’d written that week and goals for the coming week. This was followed by an editing report, how many pages I’d done and how it was going. Next was a poetry report.

And that’s not all!

I was spending more time crafting, so there’d be a crafting report. It wasn’t really anything to do with writing, more what I was spending time on when I wasn’t writing. And let’s not forget the reading report. I’d touch briefly on what I was reading and whether it was electronic or a tree book. Not reviewing them at all, mind you. Just telling you what I was reading.

And even though I was setting a goal at the end of each section, I was still wrapping up my weekly wordage report with a detailed plan for what I wanted to accomplish during the week ahead. And that was just the one post!

I was also doing a weekly poetry post, researching a new form each week and creating an original example. The spontaneity was gone, poetry was starting to become a real drag. The posts were sucking all the fun out of poetry.

Then there was my fiction Friday posts, where I’d post something creative, usually in the form of a serial installment. I wasn’t sharing something I’d already written, I was writing each installment on a week to week basis. On the one hand, it might have been interesting to a reader to see my thought process in creating a story, but on the other hand, some times I’d be down to the wire when it came to posting a new installment and I’d end up with a piece of crap. Which is why my serials needed serious editing when I was done (which they haven’t received yet).

All this is to say that I think I burned myself out. Writing had become more of a burden than a joy, and I needed to take a step back. Of course I never imagined my step back would be such a lengthy one. So what happened?

To be honest, I’m not sure. But the longer I was away from my writing, the easier it got to stay away. And then my focus shifted as I become more involved with my stitchery. I still thought about writing, and I still fully intended to get back to my writing, but all of a sudden I found myself putting it off because I had all these stitchery obligations. Before I knew it, stitchery had subsumed my writing.

And then a few weeks ago I had an epiphany. I was at a stitching retreat, and as I looked around the stitch room I was in, I realized that for most of these women, stitching was a way of life. They were here because they loved stitching and would rather stitch than do anything else. I enjoyed stitching, but it did not consume me. It didn’t light a fire in me. And then I realized that I had been letting it take over my life and it was time to do something about it.

You would think at that point I’d be able to re-focus on my writing, but that’s not the way things work. While I do want to get back to it, it’s still been a struggle. I thought I’d ease my way into it by starting with my morning pages  . Only I called them daily pages because I seldom do them first thing in the morning. And then they became the sporadic pages because I don’t seem to be able to do them every day. I’m still working on that.

What’s given me new incentive, if you can believe it, is having to replace my car. I love my new car to the point where I paid for a set of vanity plates for it.

I want to be worthy of those plates. And the only way to do that, is to write.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

I didn’t intend to take this long of a break from blogging, it just kind of happened. I’ve kept both blogs live, though, and I think it’s high time I get back at it. Not right away, mind you, but in another week or so. There’ll be changes, of course, but we’ll deal with that as they come.

Meanwhile, it’s Christmas Eve, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t post my annual Christmas videos.

Enjoy, and I’ll see you in the New Year.

It Is What It Is

You know, when I decided to take a writing break for the month of December, I fully expected to start the new year by sliding effortlessly back into the writing groove. As you might have noted, this hasn’t happened . . . yet.

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it. And one of the things that keeps running through my mind is an incident I witnessed early one morning in Niagara Falls.

The hubby and I went to Niagara to ring in the New Year. I get up much earlier than him, so I would get up and walk to the Tim Hortons about a third of the way down Clifton Hill (the main drag) and have breakfast there before going on a long walk.

Anyway, Tims didn’t open until 7:30 and I got there early, so I stood around with a couple other people, waiting. Off to the side, on the fringes, so to speak, was an old guy with a shopping cart filled with junk. It was pretty obvious he was homeless. He wasn’t bothering anyone, just hanging around waiting for Tims to open like the rest of us.

The woman behind me in the loose line rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a twenty dollar bill, and gave it to the homeless guy. But that’s only part of what made this incident memorable.

By this time there were half a dozen of us lined up. Tims opened and we went inside and placed our orders. I sat down with my breakfast and my Kindle, and I noticed the homeless guy come in. And I also noticed the way the staff were reluctant to serve him. He sat at the table closest to the door and wasn’t bothering anyone, but one Tims worker in particular seemed to give him a hard time. She told him, “I told you before, you can’t be in here.” Which I thought was really weird considering he was a paying customer. Eventually, she called a security guard to roust him out of there.

Now here’s where my writer’s brain kicked in. While I’m sure there was a reasonable explanation for this – maybe they’ve had trouble with him before – I couldn’t help making up my own explanation.

Like, maybe he was the woman’s estranged father who’d fallen on hard times. He’d turned over a new leaf and was trying to get his life back on track. But because of past bad blood between them, she was unwilling to forgive and forget. But he was persistent to the point where she got a restraining order against him, which he was ignoring in his desperation to make amends.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but you can see how a writer’s mind can make a whole story out of a random encounter.

All this is to stay, the writing fire is still burning in me, I just need to fan the flames a little. I might not be ready to dive back into writing yet, but I’m getting closer.

Meanwhile, it is what it is ‘till it’s not then it ain’t.

Happy New Year!

How was your holiday?

I have to admit I enjoyed my blogging break immensely. I don’t think I realized before how much time I was spending thinking about blogs, coming up with ideas, researching ideas, and then writing about them. It can be incredibly time consuming – no wonder I didn’t have a lot of time for anything else.

So during the break I did a lot of thinking about what I wanted to accomplish, and how I could accomplish it. And I decided it was time to take a step back from the blog schedule. To be honest, I’m not sure how I ended up on this strict blog schedule in the first place.

Where did the detailed Wordage Report come from? Sometimes it takes forever to come up with an idea to preface the report, which is time consuming, as is researching the idea and creating a post about it.

Ditto for Poetry Wednesdays. Coming up with a new form a week can be very time consuming – they’re getting harder and harder to find, too. And again, then I have to research the form, create the post, and come up with an example that rarely comes easily to me. And the sad part is, the only poetry I wrote last year were forms or poemwork for my poetry group. I wrote nothing for pleasure.

And where did Fiction Fridays come from? I mean, yeah, it’s nice to share what I’m working on once in a while, but every Friday? I’ve got over a hundred flash stories – some good, some not so good – that are the result of having to post something on Fridays, but because of this “blog schedule” I don’t really have time to do anything with them.

When I started this blog, I had a manifesto that read:

I will not be sticking to a schedule, just updating as the spirit moves me.
I will not be sharing the length of time my writing sessions are.
I will be showing progress bars on my current projects.
I will be talking about said projects.
I will be talking honestly about how the writing's going.

That was it. That’s how it all started, and that’s what I’m going back to.

Starting this week there will be no more Wordage Reports, no more Fiction Fridays, and no more Poetry Wednesdays. I’ll post when I have something to say. If I write a poem, I’ll probably share it. If I come up with the idea for a new serial, I may share that as well. And I’ll periodically share how the writing/editing is going.

But no more distracting schedules. Hopefully, without the burden of the can’t do that I have to write a blog post hanging over my head, I’ll finally get my writing back on track.

One can only hope. 😊

Changes

Happy Yule

As promised, here are a few of my favourite Christmas videos to help make the season bright.


I'm Climbing Up the Christmas Tree


Imperial March/Carol of the Bells


Chipmunks Roasting on an Open Fire


Little Drummer boy – David Bowie and Bing Crosby


Faith Hill – Where Are you Christmas


TSO – Christmas Eve in Sarajevo


TSO – Christmas Cannon

Happy Holiday Blogging Break

First, let me start by saying (in case you haven’t noticed) I finish the NaNo challenge with a few hundred words to spare. I did not enjoy it. In fact, I haven’t been enjoying writing anything lately, particularly blog posts, so I’ve decided to take the month of December off.

Yeah, it seems like a long break, but I have a lot to do this month, and a lot to think about. Even before NaNo began I was starting to feel stressed out, especially with the blogging, and I need to take a break before I burn out completely.

I’ll still be posting my traditional Christmas music videos, but that won’t be until closer to Christmas.

So have a Happy Holiday everyone, and see you in the New Year.

Forgotten – NaNo Novel 4th Excerpt

As you can see, I finally found a better name for my novel. It came to me a couple of nights ago and it fits the story much better. And yes, I was in bed at the time, and yes, I had to get up and forage for a pen and paper to write it down so I wouldn’t forget it. 😊

In this, my final excerpt from my story, we have Sabella reaching some ruins where she’s taken shelter for the night. Aaban is on his way back to extend the village’s invitation to join them, but he’s not there quite yet and Sabella is trying to figure out what her next move is.

Sabella woke to a rustling sound in the bushes outside of her shelter. She looked up in time to see one of the monkey-like creatures make off with the scanner, which she’d left on top of the packs.

“Hey!” she shouted, getting to her feet. “Come back here with that!”

The monkey made a chittering noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter and scurried up the nearest tree. From there he leaped to another, then another, and was soon lost to view.

“Great start,” she said in disgust. “I lose the one thing from the ship that was of some real use.”

With a sigh she turned back to her shelter, having taken several steps outside of it to chase the thief. Rooting around in the pack, she took three of the water bottles down to the river. Kneeling at the edge, she filled the bottles, then set them aside to splash the cold water on her face.

“What I wouldn’t give for a hot caffeine,” she said with a sigh, turning back to her shelter.

No sense thinking about things like that now. Her chances of ever having a coffee again were pretty slim. There were a lot of things she was never going to see again and she would do best not to dwell on them. She needed to focus on survival.

But suddenly the thought of all those long years ahead of her, all alone, were almost too much to contemplate. What had she done? She sank down until she was sitting on the ground. A tear slid down her cheek, followed by a torrent of others.

She didn’t want to be alone on this world. She especially didn’t want to die alone here. Sniffling, she swiped the tears away with her hand. But she’d certainly would die here if she didn’t get ahold of herself.

“Okay. First things first,” she said, feeling marginally better after her little outburst. “Time to take stock of what I’ve got.”

She pulled the packs towards her and opened them up. Her cursory look the night before had left her puzzled as to some of the contents. The blankets and empty bottles she understood, but she held up several metal objects, one after another. Tools, maybe? But tools for what purpose?

There were twenty-two of the foil pouches left. She’d have to be careful not to go through them too quickly. It would be a shame to have made it this far, only to starve to death. Of course there was always the fruit. She’d suffered no ill effects from it so far, but she doubted it would be a viable diet in the long term.

“Oh! This might be handy.” ‘This’ was small, metal box that held several barbed hooks. “Fish hooks, I think,” she said.

Or maybe not so happy. She’d read historical books that talked about fishing, but she had no idea how to do it herself. Hopefully she could learn. A sudden though struck her, sending her to her feet. This building she was in was not natural. Someone had to have built it. There had to be people somewhere, hopefully not too far away.

Stepping outside of the shelter, she considered it for a moment. She couldn’t climb the surrounding trees, but she’d bet she could climb up to the roof. And maybe once she was up there she could climb one of the trees that pressed against it.

It wasn’t easy. Her legs were a little shaky from all that walking over the last two days, and her upper body strength was pretty much average. But she managed to hoist herself up onto the rubble strewn roof.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t high enough to give her much more of a view than she’d had before. She could see down to the river, and a few feet along it in both directions, but in the grand scheme of things there wasn’t much else to see but trees.

Going over to one of the trees abutting the building, she put a hand on the trunk and looked up at the crown. The trunk was smooth, and there were no branches sticking out. There was no way she’d be able to climb that, even with the boost the building gave her.

With a sigh she turned away to look out at the river again. Didn’t people usually settle near rivers, or some other source of water? What would happen if she kept following the river. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it would have to do.

Now all she had to do is get down from this roof.

“Well this isn’t good,” she muttered, surveying the tumbled down wall she’d climbed up.

Grumbling under her breath, she sat down on the edge, dangling her feet over the side. Then, thinking better of it, she turned around so she was facing inwards instead, backing towards the edge on her hands and knees. Carefully, she eased her legs downwards, holding onto the roof for support. Her feet made contact with the ruined wall, and she spared a glance downwards before moving her hands from the edge of the roof to the top of the wall.

She was a little off of where she’d climbed up, but this way there were some sturdy looking vines she could grab onto, which was a good thing. She was only halfway down when one of her feet slipped.

A man’s voice called out as she grabbed for a smooth brown vine. Startled, she looked up as her hand connected with the vine. As she watched in amazement, a man dropped onto the roof of the building. There was a frantic look on his face as he kept talking, and she realized the vine under her hand was moving. She transferred her look to her hand, just as the snake she’d grabbed onto bit her.

Fire shot up her arm. Sabella screamed and fell the rest of the way to the ground, snake still attached to the back of her hand. The man, moving faster than she’d ever seen anyone move, was beside her in seconds. An enormous knife appeared in his hand, and with one swipe he cut the head off the snake. Even then, he had to pry the snake’s jaws open to get her hand free.

Tossing it aside, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back into the shelter of the building. Sabella was in no shape to protest. The fire continued up her arm and she was starting to feel dizzy. Obviously the snake was poisonous – the man had probably yelled to warn her of the danger. She was too dazed to even wonder where he’d come from.

Espinela Verse Form

This Spanish form was named for Vencinente Espinela, and is often referred to as “the little sonnet.” Being a musician, he designed his form to be pleasing to the ear when recited. Here’s where it can get a little confusing.

It is also sometimes incorrectly referred to as a Décima, which is a Spanish term for any ten-line stanza. However, there is also a popular song form from 15th century Spain called the Décima which consists of forty-four lines (an introductory stanza followed by four ten-line stanzas).

The Espinela has only two stanzas, with four lines in the first and six in the second for a total of ten lines. Each line has eight syllables, and it follows a strict rhyme scheme of abba/accddc.

Schematic:

xxxxxxxa
xxxxxxxb
xxxxxxxb
xxxxxxxa

xxxxxxxa
xxxxxxxc
xxxxxxxc
xxxxxxxd
xxxxxxxd
xxxxxxxc

I think the nickname of “little sonnet” is an apt one, it is very much like writing a sonnet. And like a sonnet, the Espinela can be written on any subject.


Evening Song

Skin still warm from the summer sun
Glimmering in the fading light
Waiting until the moment’s right
Waiting until the day is done

Waiting for that special someone
The touch, the taste, the feel of him
The bending to another’s whim
Anticipation building slow
Reach the peak and then overflow
The moment caught, too soon to dim.

Writersfest Wrap-up

A creative writing workshop will contain students whose ambitions and abilities, whose conceptions of literature itself, are so diverse that what they have in common - the desire to write - could almost be considered meaningless.
— Rachel Cusk

I think that, in principle, a workshop is such a beautiful idea - an environment in which writers who are collectively apprenticed to the craft of writing can come together in order to collectively improve.
— Eleanor Catton

Being part of the Workshop is like being part of a really big family. Everyone is so close. Everyone feels the success of others who go on to do well. Whatever happens, I will still be part of the Workshop.
— Lucy Carless

This was my fourth foray in the world of Writersfest, and I have to say that each time it’s been a little bit different.

The first time was on a package that included the workshop tickets and the hotel room. I really enjoyed the workshops and learned a lot. Unfortunately, I went with a friend and came home without one (figuratively, not literally). To this day I have no idea what happened. She wasn’t talking, and I didn’t push her to. Que sera, sera.

Then we had COVID and the lockdowns, so I didn’t go back until 2022 (in 2021 I went to a different writing retreat). I still sprang for the festival pass, but this time I went for all four days. Technically it was five, but I opted out of staying the extra night just for the one workshop (which I wasn’t really interested in anyway). Instead I paid extra to hear Guy Gavriel Kay read from his newest work (and got a signed copy for the daughter).

Because I was late calling for my hotel reservation, I couldn’t get the discount rate at the Holiday Inn, and ended up staying at the Delta (which was only a block away). The workshops were interesting and I learned a lot. The weather was beautiful and I took a lot of early morning walks along the waterfront.

My third Writersfest was in March of this year. This time it was being held at the Delta, and I did call in time for the discount on my reservation. Wow! What a difference it made in the price! The weather was a little cold and crappy, which made staying at the same place where the workshops were taking place even better.

That being said, I enjoyed a couple of the workshops but was disappointed in a couple. The rest were kind of so-so, but I still learned a lot. There were a handful of us who paid for the four-day pass, and we kind of got to know each other a bit.

October’s Writersfest was held at the Holiday Inn, and even though there was no discount offered, I booked my room there. Can we say pricy? And the room wasn’t all that great. Although I did have a tiny balcony that overlooked the water. AND it’s right at the end of Princess Street, which is a mecca for shopping magpies like me.

Like many organizations, Writersfest is having a hard time getting volunteers. One noticeable difference was they no longer did the land acknowledgement at the beginning of the workshops, and sometimes there wasn’t even anyone to introduce the facilitators.

I found a couple of workshops were more seminars than actual workshops, but they were still okay. Three of them I really enjoyed and learned from them. I skipped the Travel Writing workshop to go to a reading called Folklore, Fable, and Fantastical Females. The most disappointing workshop of them all was something called Creative Collaborations – Combining Imagery and Words. It was nothing more than a sales pitch for an independent small press who sold very pricy boxed sets of stories.

Will I be going back in the spring? Maybe, maybe not. There’s a stitching retreat which I missed last year because it was the same date, but this year I’ve already got it paid for, so it’ll depend on when the spring writersfest is.

But I’ll probably go to the fall one again. And since they’re no longer offering a hotel discount as an incentive to buy the festival pass, I will probably take a better look at the workshops being offered and pick and choose what I think will be worth my while. And if that means I have more time to sit and write in my favorite coffee shop, so be it.

There are worse things I could do with my time.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

THE WEEK IN REVIEW
Honestly, I don’t have a word for last week. Yo-yo maybe, because it was weirdly up and down.

Monday we finally got our new fridge delivered. While it takes up the same amount of space as the loaner, it seems smaller inside. And I still don’t have room for my big stock pot in it, which means I’ll need to make my soups earlier in the day so they’ll be cool enough to bag up for the freezer later that same day. No more putting it off for a couple of days. 😊

Tuesday was a very uninspiring rainy day, with a stitch in at the library (which was the bright spot). When I got home I realized I had a poetry gathering the next night, so I spent the afternoon writing a poemwork poem.

Wednesday I started out making a big pot of chicken chowder for the father-in-law, and yes, it was cool enough to bag up for the freezer before bed. The poetry gathering ran a little long, but lots of good poetry was shared.

Thursday was a rather quiet day, perfect for indulging in some online shopping, and Friday involved a lot of in store shopping, followed by me making my Death By Chocolate cake to take with me to a small get-together to say goodbye to one of stitchers, who’s moving to Toronto.

Saturday the daughter, granddaughter, and I went on a shopping road trip, which was followed by the hubby and I doing some shopping, which was followed by another social event, this time at the father-in-law’s.

But in between all of that, I managed to catch up on my NaNo words.

NEW WORDS:
2636+466+210+1201=4513 words

Once again, a lot of time was saved by having part, if not all of my posts done ahead of time. And also once again, Monday’s post was rather heavily photo dependent. Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to take a lot of photos during the crafting process.

Goals For Next Week:
Keep up the good work, blog posting-wise.

NANOWRIMO:
Day 19 – 2617
Day 20 – 1930
Day 21 – 2977
Day 22 – 1788
Day 23 – 2087
Day 24 – 1936
Day 25 – 2559
Total for week 4 – 15,894
Total for month – 41,729

Slowly but surely I managed to catch up my words and as of yesterday I was back on track to the 50,000 word goal.

While I’m still a little apathetic about the whole thing, I’m liking the story better. However, it has become glaringly apparent to me that if I’m going to try and do anything with this novel in the future, I’m going to have to do a great deal of world building.

It would have been super helpful to have done all that before NaNo started, but I didn’t. So now I’m stumbling around trying to figure out the flora and fauna as I go along, what the customs and traditions of the people are, and what exactly they do with themselves all day.

Also, a better idea of what the layout of the land is would come in handy. So far I’ve got lots of jungle, some cliffs, and a river that is no where near where the people are, which makes no sense because wouldn’t they need a source of water close by?

Yeah. So there’s a lot of work ahead of me if I’m going to whip this up into any kind of shape to be readable. And honestly? I’m not even at the halfway point of the story itself, so it’ll be continued well beyond the end of NaNo.

You know, eventually.

Goal For Next Week:
Finish NaNo.

POETRY:
There was a poetry gathering last Wednesday night, and seeing as I skipped it the month before, I figured I pretty much had to show up. Plus I needed to pay my yearly dues 😉

So Tuesday afternoon had me trying to come up with a metaphysical poem (the poemwork for the month). In the end I did a black out poem. Actually, I did two of them. I looked up articles on metaphysics on Google copy/pasted a page of text from two different articles, and picked out the words and phrases to craft my poems.

I have to admit, I’m getting a little tired of all these forms. It doesn’t really leave me much time to write a poem just because I have something poetical to say. And while it’s all well and good to be able to learn a new form, the forms themselves don’t always lend themselves to creating an anthology.

Goal For Next Week:
Think about my future in poetry.

CRAFTING:
Tuesday was our library stitching, where I worked a bit on my kit. I really wanted to work more on my crafting this past week, but I didn’t have time because I was busy catching up on NaNo. I was a little jealous of one of my writing buddies, who was able to get some quality crafting done for Christmas last week.

But while I didn’t have time for crafting last week, I did find time to shop for crafting supplies. I got about $50 worth of beads and charms from Wish, and then I went to another site to buy an engraving tool and a bunch of engraving bits.

Oh! And there was a request for Christmas prints for a project with the stitchery group, so I donated all the Christmas prints (mostly fat quarters) in my stash, that I’ve had for years and didn’t know what to do with. Well, as any hoarder knows, as soon as you get rid of something, you’ll find a use for it.

It was just after I gave away my prints that I did the class in the folded stars. I could have used that Christmas fabric to do more stars. *sigh* As I recall, I got a lot of those fat quarters at Walmart, who was completely out of the ones with Christmas prints. So, instead I had to go all the way to Fabricland where I bought some off the bolt.

Also last week, I finally got around to stiffening my crocheted snowflakes. I used watered down mod podge and staked them all out on waxed paper covered cardboard. Worked really well too. Now all they need are strings.

Goal For Next Week:
Make some fabric stars; work on kit; work on zentangle.

WHAT I’M READING:
I finished The Invisible Hour by Alice Hoffman, and I really hope she’s going to write a sequel to it because I really want to know what happens next. Now I’ve started The Hike, by Lucy Clarke.

On the Kindle I finished The Psychic Cat Mysteries by S.M Reine, which was a series of five mystery stories from a cat’s point of view.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep up the moderate reading habits.

THE WEEK AHEAD:

I swear, that new leaf of mine is off in space somewhere.

The weather has been as variable as my mood. I’m still a little tired and lethargic, so this grey, dismal November is not helping things any.

I don’t know what I’m going to be writing about for Monday, maybe something about Christmas crafts. ‘Tis the season, don’t you know.

Tuesday is a regular meeting with the stitchery group. There aren’t any classes, it’s just a regular stitch in, which means a lot of talking and a little stitching.

Unless inspiration strikes me like a bolt of lightning, I’ll be using the last of pre-written poetry posts on Wednesday. And because December’s poetry gathering is early, I really should try to start working on the poemwork.

I did do a little of my indoor gardening last week. I dumped the dead plants (five of them!) and rearranged several others. So this week I’d like get my coleus clippings planted, and repot my money tree into a bigger pot.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my blogging schedule, and my writing in general. Brace yourself – I’m taking the month of December off from writing, and that includes blog posts. I’ll be putting up an official notice next weekend, and then I’ll use my month to make some decisions . . . and some changes.

Starting in January, things are going to be very different around here.

Forced Landing – NaNo Novel 3rd Excerpt

Today’s excerpt comes in two parts. First, we have a continuation of last week’s scene, in which Sabella is still searching for a good place to camp out. Unbeknownst to her, she has a protector/observer who’s been following her, and the second scene is him making a report to his superiors.

Before she could seriously start looking [for some place to camp], the jungle began to thin a bit and she found herself in a group of tall trees, though not quite as tall as the trees in the surrounding jungle, that were laden heavily laden with a bright green fruit.

It looked delicious. “But is it safe to eat?” she wondered.

Just then, a small, furry animal swooped down from one of the tall jungle trees. It snatched up one of the fruit that Sabella only now noticed littered the ground beneath the trees, and leaped away again.

“Well, I guess that answers my question,” she said, laughing in spite of herself.

She recognized the creature as a monkey. She’d learned about them in a documentary she once watched. As she recalled, there were many different species of them, but she couldn’t have said exactly what kind this one was. He was small and brown and had an extremely long tail that if she remembered correctly, could be used almost like an extension of its paws.

Stooping down, she picked up one of the fruit, wondering as she did so what exactly it was. Not that she’d seen much fresh fruit in her life. Not since she’d been a child. The world she’d been raised on was a mix of agriculture and technology. She and her parents lived in one of the settlements at the edge of a city, more because it was more affordable than because they had any great affinity for nature.

While some of their neighbors had large gardens, her mother had no time for such nonsense, as she put it, and limited her efforts to some potted herbs to be used in cooking. Her mother was a supervising technical analyst for the Branyon Corporation, Tel-Corp’s greatest rival, which her father also worked for as an engineer. Branyon paid for their quarters, and when they’d chosen to live on the outskirts of the city, they provided them with vehicles to get them to and from work.

But none of that was important now. She hefted the weight of the fruit in her hand. It was dense, and it had a faintly sweet scent. Shrugging, she finally bit into it.

“Oh!” she said in surprise. The sweet flavor burst onto her tongue and the juice ran down her chin. The flesh was firm, a lighter green shade, and delicious. She finished it in a hurry and then stooped down for a second one. This one she ate slower, savoring the taste.

Tempting as it was to keep eating until she was full, she knew better than to gorge on fruit when her stomach was so empty. She’d make herself sick for sure, and there were no med units here. She’d have to be very careful. So instead she gathered up a dozen or so – any more and they probably would just rot before she could eat them – and stowed them in one of the survival packs.

Feeling surprisingly refreshed, she continued on, seeking some place to have a proper rest.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

As usual, the clan chiefs knew he was coming and had already gathered. He had missed the communal mid-day meal, but that was nothing unusual. Eschewing the use of the ladders, he scaled the red cliffs much like the children did, using the handholds and rocky protuberances.

“Sometimes I think you are more a child than the children,” clan chief Ebou, Aaban’s friend, chuckled.

Aaban grinned in return. “Helps keep me fit. I wouldn’t want to become soft, like you.”

“What have you to tell us,” Mohlomi said, interrupting them before they got too carried away with their jibes.

“Forgive me, Clan Chief,” Aaban said, with a bow in his direction. “It is my opinion that the woman is not a threat. Those who pursued her came and left again, believing he dead.”

“And why would they believe such a thing?” Mohlomi asked with a frown.

Aaban hesitated. “Though the small ship crashed, it was intact. However, shortly after the woman left, it exploded in such a fashion that there was little doubt there were no survivors.”

“And that was enough to persuade the others? You did not assist in the deception?”

Aaban shrugged. “I may have accidentally dropped a few pieces of tak-tak flesh and bone when I was examining the wreckage. And they may have misconstrued what they saw.”

“Hmm.” Mohlomi eyed him balefully. “May have dropped flesh and bone, eh?”

Aaban made no reply.

“Where is this stranger now?”

“She follows the river Malarrich and should reach the ruins of the temple of the old gods before day’s end.”

Mohlomi pursed his lips. “She is already almost off of clan lands. Perhaps it would be—”

“Hold!” the voice came from the entrance of the meeting chamber. Ntsebo rapped her staff against the stone floor to get their attention.

There were murmurs amongst the clan chiefs. Ntsebo rarely left her cave, people usually were required to go to her. She was the oldest member of the clans, and arguably the most powerful. She was tiny, as though a breath of wind could blow her right off the cliff face, her stark, white hair confined in a braid that hung down her back, her face seamed from her many years. She walked with a cane, and was quick to use it on those who annoyed her.

She was the Mother of the Clans, a position she’d held since the first vision came to her when she was still a child. And she would hold that position until one was born to the clans who could take her place. No one knew how old she was, and there were some who believed she had always been with the clans.

“Clan Mother,” Mohlomi said, bowing his head respectfully. “You honor us with your presence.”

She snorted. “We shall see about that.”

“Have you had a vision, Mother?”

Using her stick to shoo the nearest clan chief aside so she could take his seat, she made herself comfortable before answering. “Is that not my function within the clans, to have visions of warning or guidance?”

“And which is it that you have had,” Mohlomi asked patiently. He was used to her sharp ways and was not offended by her rudeness.

“I do not know. But I have seen a stranger, a woman. She runs, though she has done no wrong. She has come to our world by accident and will surely die here if we do not give her aid. Her death would diminish us all.”

Cameo Verse Form

For such a short little poem, there sure are a lot of rules to the Cameo. This rather interesting form was invented by Alice Maud Spokes. It is written as a single sentence of thirty-five syllables spread out over seven lines. The syllable count is 2-5-8-3-8-7-2.

There is no rhyme to the cameo, but each line should end on a strong word. Line breaks should be naturally occurring, where you would pause in speaking. The poem should be a single thought, so avoid using semicolons.

Schematic:

xx
xxxxx
xxxxxxxx
xxx
xxxxxxxx
xxxxxxx
xx

This actually isn’t as bad as it first looked. In fact, it’s kind of a fun form.


spider,
busy spinning webs,
you think I don’t see you up there
but I do
and I’m about to get my broom
to ruin all your hard work
again.


lazy,
you sleep in the sun
when there are mousies to be found
and hunted,
which is the job of the housecat
and you know it, lazy thing,
not me.

Plotless Fiction – Writersfest Part VI

When I say “plotless,” I am including texts that may have a different or radical way of approaching “plot.” Can imagery, syntax, typography be plot? I guess we’ll find out.
— Stuart Ross

Going back in time, I really admire the experimental fiction of the 1960s and 1970s that B. S. Johnson, Toby McLennan, Donald Barthelme, bpNichol, and Daphne Marlatt were creating, among others. Hell, I still consider Michael Ondaatje’s greatest novel, Coming Through Slaughter, a masterpiece of innovation!
— Stuart Ross

Simply put, for me, innovation in fiction means challenging conventions, expanding boundaries, and confounding expectations.
— Stuart Ross

Day four, workshop one was probably my favorite of all the workshops. But wait, you say. What happened to day three? Well, day three started with a workshop on Travel Writing, which I skipped to go to an author event – Folklore, Fable, and Fantastical Females, a reading and conversation with Paola Ferrante, Emily Urquhart, and Anuja Varghese. It was really good, but not the sort of thing you take notes on.

The second workshop of day three was nothing more than a sales pitch for some very pricy boxed sets. Yes, the workshop was a disappointment, but I did buy three of their product. This was followed by an actual workshop on Spoken Word poetry, which isn’t really my thing, so I skipped it and went shopping.

Anyway, day four, workshop one was Plotless Fiction, facilitated by Stuart Ross. I tell you, you can never go wrong with a workshop run by Stuart Ross.

Writer, editor, and writing teacher Stuart Ross offers a relaxed, supportive workshop that explores the possibilities of fiction beyond the constraints of narrative and the artificiality of plot. In this hands-on session, you will be introduced to writers whose works push against the definitions of the story, and will produce your own short works, using a variety of enjoyable, challenging writing strategies.

Plotless Fiction is also known as Experimental Fiction, or Weird Things You Can Get Published.

When Stuart Ross says plotless, he means literally plotless, as in no plot to it. It’s like making a short story that is actually a list.

Plot in fiction is a series of things that happen in a novel. The trajectory goes up and up and up to the conclusion.

Can there be tension without plot? Yes. You can care about the characters, which creates tension. Perhaps the idea is to create a question for the reader – what will happen to the character.

Throw away the way you normally write. Experiment. The human mind is built to find stories and make connections. They will always try to make connections.

Exercise: write a series of single sentences describing various objects objectively.

A booklet sits on a black tablecloth, its pages fanned from use.
The pastry is braided and dotted with nuts.
The stack of torn pages sits haphazardly beside the more orderly stack of magazines.
The brightness from the window hurts my eyes.

Now write a series of sentences starting with “I” – each one a different person.

I like to walk the streets at night, staying in the shadows.
I am tired.
I hate the falling leaves, the longer nights, and pumpkin spice.
I need to start planning for Christmas.

Now randomly join them together.

The brightness from the window hurts my eyes. I like to walk the streets at night, staying in the shadows. The pastry is braided and dotted with nuts. I am tired. A booklet sits on the black tablecloth, its pages fanned from use. I need to start planning for Christmas. The stack of torn pages sits haphazardly beside the more orderly stack of magazines. I hate the falling leaves, the longer nights, and pumpkin spice.

Your results could be a short story, or a poem. You can put together any two lists of things.

Next we were given a separate page to write on and asked to write ten lines describing chaos. (Note, 10 hand written lines translates to 5 typed lines)

Dark, stormy clouds sweep in from the south. The lake churns, waves crashing along the shore. There’s a smell of ozone in the air as the first thunderous crash of thunder, like a sonic boom, precedes the jagged spears of lightning. Like cameras held by the paparazzi, the flashes come one after another, the thunderous timpani keeping time with the volatile storm.

Then we were asked to write ten more lines describing serenity.

The view out the window is full of serenity. The tranquil water is calm, at rest. The day has barely begun, so enjoy the peacefulness while it lasts, for it won’t last for long. The flags lay limp because there is not yet a breeze to stir them. Even the birds are at rest, anticipating the world waking up. It doesn’t last for long, but dawn giving birth to the new day is amazing.

Then we tore the pages apart, and folded one of the ten lines in half, placing it over top of the other one to create a new set of ten lines. First we have serenity on the left, and chaos on the right.

The view out the clouds sweep in from the tranquil water churns, waves crashing day has barely here’s a smell of ozone peacefulness, first thunderous won’t last for like a sonic boom, because there is jagged spears of lightning. Them Even by the paparazzi anticipating one after another, the doesn’t last for timpani keeping time with birth to the new.

Now we have chaos on the left, and serenity on the right.

Dark, stormy window is full of serenity. South the lake is calm, at rest. The along the shore begun, so enjoy the in the air as while it lasts, for it crash of thunder long. The flags lay limp, precedes the jagged not yet a breeze to stir like cameras held birds are at rest, the flashes come one world waking up. It thunderous timpani long, but dawn giving the volatile storm day is amazing.

Weird, eh?

And finally, we were given a series of newspapers, magazines, and pages, and asked to just pull random lines and string them together. This was actually kind of fun – like a reverse blackout poem, only longer. And it was interesting using different sources for the lines as well – a newspaper for one line, an advertisement for the next.

Opinion
In life, there are minor errors. The reader may perhaps wonder. Our large ensemble offers a diverse repertoire. This group currently meets on the first business Monday of each month. A firestorm of controversy over Exeter’s mishandling of sexual misconduct on the part of faculty members. According to sources, then Congressman DeSantis cultivated Trump’s support. A violent storm of hail forced Joseph to take shelter. Meanwhile, Statistics Canada said its early estimate for August pointed to an increase of 0.1 percent for the month. There is growing evidence that new mothers can help in creating a healthier bottom line. This cycle is an opportunity for corporate leaders to play.

As always, Stuart Ross’s workshop was the highlight of the retreat. The final workshop of the day was to write about food, which necessitated a change in location, but I opted to just go on home instead.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

THE WEEK IN REVIEW
The word for last week is . . . perseverance. It took a lot of perseverance to make it through last week, I tell you what. And that cold I’ve been fighting was every bit as persistent.

My time at Nottawasaga was chronicled in my Monday blog post, and if you’re curious you can read about it HERE . By Friday night I was feeling queasy from the cold medication I was taking, and it didn’t seem to be helping anyway, so I stopped taking it. I was no better, cold wise, the rest of the weekend, but at least my head was a little more clear.

One big difference between a stitchery retreat and a writing retreat is the alone time. I guess because writers are more solitary creatures, our day starts later, ends earlier, and we have breaks in between workshops. Stitchers, on the other hand, are far more social. And despite the fact it was a more energizing atmosphere than being around most groups, I was pretty much peopled out by the end of the weekend.

NEW WORDS:
2656+1157+411+949=5,173
UP: 475 – words

The fact that I had Sunday’s post written and up on time was due to having most of it written before I left for my stitchery retreat.

Monday’s post was photo dependent, so while long, it was fairly easy to write. And of course for Wedenesday I had a pre-written poetry post. And Friday, all I had to do was find an excerpt from my NaNo. So all in all, I got off pretty easy with the blog posts last week.

Which was a good thing, because as I said before, this cold has been kicking my butt big time. I have been so tired and lethargic this past week it’s not even funny. Between the weather, my cold, and the new diabetic medication I’m on, it was a real effort to do anything, let alone any writing.

Goals For Next Week:
Kick the cold to the curb so I can get some real writing done.

NANOWRIMO:
Day 12 – 492
Day 13 – 1,034
Day 14 – 354
Day 15 – 984
Day 16 – 1541
Day 17 – 2411
Day 18 – 2452
Total for week 3 – 9,268
Total for month – 25,835

Yikes! As you can see, I fell way off the wagon as far as NaNo goes. As of yesterday, I should be at 30,000 words. Sadly, even after I got home from the retreat I had a really hard time generating any words. The NaNo mojo just wasn’t working.

The last couple of days I’ve slowly been catching up, but it’s still a bit of a struggle. And I still need to up the pace if I’m going to finish on time.

But one good thing, I figured out my ending. I gave up the whole murder/self sacrifice bit, and replaced it with an accident. A little less convoluted, but it makes better sense.

My NaNo experience this year, has got me questioning why I keep doing this. While it’s hard to resist getting caught up in the whole NaNo whirlwind, I have to ask myself what I’m getting out of it.

It’s certainly not making me a better writer, just because of the very nature of NaNo – writing quantity, not quality. So while it might make me a faster writer, for a month at least, it’s doing nothing to improve the quality of my writing. And do I really need another unfinished manuscript to add to my pile?

I still plan on finishing this year’s NaNo, or at least try to, but maybe it’s time to let go of that winning streak I’m so proud of. Because honestly, all those unfinished manuscripts are not the mark of a winner.

Goal For Next Week:
Continue to catch up my NaNo.

POETRY:
Once again it was nice to be able to dip into the pre-written poetry form well. And I have two more forms in that well, so that should take me to the end of NaNoWriMo. But that’s not to say I won’t work on more, if I get the chance. It’s kind of nice to have forms ready to go in case of an emergency.

Goal For Next Week:
Think about doing the remaining three example poems.

CRAFTING:
You know, you’d think going away for a whole weekend of stitching I would have got lots of stitching done. But the truth is, our time in the sewing room was a lot like one of our regular stitch-ins. There was a lot of socializing, and only some stitching. LOL

I did get some work done on the kit I’ve been working on, and I finished the third square of my zentangle. And I was blown away by a lot of the work around me. The ladies from the Toronto Guild were so welcoming and friendly . . . and the talent! The sheer quality of the work was mind boggling. And it was comforting to know that many of these projects have been works in progress for years.

Then Tuesday there was a regular meeting of my own stitching guild where I learned to make a Christmas star using folded fabric. It was a lot of fun, but I was still recovering from the weekend so I left right after the class, even though our time wasn’t up. But guess what Monday’s post is going to be about? 😊

Goal For Next Week:
Make more stars; work on kit; work on zentangle.

WHAT I’M READING:
Read another couple of chapters of The Invisible Hour by Alice Hoffman, and I’m kind of sad I’m getting close to the end because I’m really enjoying this book.

On the Kindle I finished The Guest is a Goner by Carly Winter, and started The Psychic Cat Mysteries by S.M Reine, which is a cute series of stories from the cat’s point of view.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep up the moderate reading habits.

THE WEEK AHEAD:

Yeah, I think that new leaf I was nurturing has crawled back into it’s seed shell, waiting for me to find my focus. I don’t blame it. If there was room, I think I’d join it.

The weather has been absolute crap lately, typical for November, but it hasn’t helped me recover from my weekend away. I need to ignore the weather and start getting back on track this week.

It should be another easy week for posting. Monday’s post is pretty much a done deal. I took pictures as I was making my fabric star, not just to help me remember how to make it, but to chronicle it for the blog.

And Wednesday I’ll be able to use another of my pre-written poetry forms. Nice to have them ready to go. And of course Friday I only have to find a suitable excerpt from my NaNo novel.

Tuesday is the library for stitching, and I haven’t decided whether to take my zentangle to start a new square, or my kit because it’s better fabric to work on.

I didn’t take care of my indoor gardening last week, so it would be nice if I could find the time for it this week. I don’t know why, but my hearts on a string are starting to die. I haven’t changed anything about the way I’m looking after them, so maybe I need to look up what I should be doing differently. I also need to see how big of a pot my money tree can be put in.

But the priority for this week is going to have to be catching up on my NaNo. You’ve seen the numbers, I am seriously behind. I think the most I’ve written in one day during NaNo was 10,000 words. I could really use a day like that this week. 😊

Lot’s of stuff to do, I’m just waiting on the ambition to do it this week.