The furniture is moved and the floors are washed. The tree is up but not yet trimmed. The two silk Flores de Noche Buena aka Poinsettias are in the bedrooms. And bits of pine tree and cones are placed in various places so that their scent makes up for the tree fakery. Continue reading
“Get out a piece of paper or pull up a fresh document and write down every goal you intend to accomplish in your literary lifetime. Write down all your ultimate dreams and then try to write your way to them.”-Katz, Christina. “Diversity As You Go.” The Writer’s Workout: 366 Tips, Tasks, & Techniques from Your Writing Career Coach. Cincinnati, OH: Writer’s Digest, 2011. 42. Print.
One of the fun things I did this past weekend was taking six books off the shelf and putting them in a bag for the library. A few were guilt-inducing books of writing exercises; they brought me no breakthroughs or epiphanies.
I considered getting rid of Katz’s book but when flipping through, a couple entries caught my eyes. This was one. I like to think of having a lifetime of writing in me, loop after loop of story like a thread spooled somewhere in my heart. Endless. Full of colour and promise.
It reminded me of reading Ray Bradbury explain that he wrote a list of story titles and then wrote the stories that went with them. It took him years, but he did it. Sometimes he had no more than the germ of an idea when he started, but somehow it grew.
“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.” – Ebenezer Scrooge, A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
When I returned from my hometown to La Casa de Tontería, I started thinking about returning to the Factory. Anxiety about work is part of everyday life, and I started feeling it in anticipation of my first day back.
Just like snuggling into my familiar bed and quickly falling asleep, I find myself returning to comfortable – if unhelpful – habits.
Everyday concerns are like everyday spills; you wipe them first. Other things – hobbies, relaxation – are like dust bunnies lying unnoticed except when a deep cleaning draws them to light. At leisure, it’s easy to think about Big Things that are lost in the daily grind. Grind? Grinder? Oh, coffee! *scribbles on list*
“One can never have enough socks,” said Dumbledore. “Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.” -J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter & the Sorcerer’s Stone
Poor Dumbledore. I’d like to take them off his hands. I didn’t get any books as gifts this year, although maybe that’s good. I’ve been working on organizing what I have.
As a bibliophile, I’ve long been captivated by libraries. Many years ago, a friend invited me to a fundraiser at Meadow Brook Hall, a Tudor-revival home. That was my introduction to a private library (and a gorgeous one at that). Continue reading
As a rule, I don’t make resolutions on New Years Eve. This year, I made it earlier or, to be precise, I had the resolution dropped on me like a firecracker:
No more Morning Pages! Continue reading
For the first day of the New Year 2016, I decided to link to one of the interesting websites I read during my DIY Writer’s Summer Camp: Writing-World.com.
I am a relative newbie at writing fiction, so I had little idea about what attainable goals in writing would look like for me (as opposed to some professional writers whose advice I sought). So the post “Setting Effective Writing Goals” was eye-opening. Here’s a taste:
And that, perhaps, is the most delightful thing about goals: You can change them. They are not graven in stone. They are not chains, meant to lock you into some sort of writer’s bondage. Quite often, they change themselves before you realize what has happened…. (…) The key is to remember that goals are not your destiny. They are simply highly effective tools that you can use to reach that destiny.
Wanda, my octogenarian neighbor, spent some time in the hospital this fall. While there, she adopted the finches of her nonagenarian roommate. The poor woman’s fear was that relatives would set them loose, and her darlings wouldn’t survive cold autumn nights, let alone winter. So Wanda took them off her hands.
But Wanda had her own troubles, including finding someone to care for them when she’s under the weather. (Her daughter-in-law suffers from ornithophobia, the fear of birds.) As much as she loved the birdsong, she started asking people if they’d “adopt” the finches.
If just so happens that one of my new colleagues, who works with impaired children, keeps plants and animals in her room. The children especially love taking care of the fish and birds. Sometimes they responded to the animals more freely than to other people.
Sadly, the male finch died. Continue reading