Showing posts with label writers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writers. Show all posts

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Writing 6

Danny left before Stacy did.

They had talked about it on their walks around the grounds and knew that one of them would end up leaving the hospital before the other. It took Danny awhile to earn the privilege to leave the building unescorted, but once he did the four of them would slowly wander down the shaded blacktop driveway to the gate. As soon as they were out of eyesight of the guards and cameras, they would separate into couples. Danny and Stacy. Ted and Amy. Or sometimes the guys would be stuck with each other while the girls went off to talk.

At first he was left inside, while Stacy was out walking with Ted. Danny knew there was no reason to be jealous, but that didn't stop the dark emotion from bubbling inside him. The window grills separated and marked them as wild animals with strange patterns. They were roaming free and he had to watch while Stacy and Ted slowly left his view.

It was easy for him to move up to GP (grounds privileges). He wasn't in for wanting to hurt himself or others just for the pain that was swallowing him. He wanted to ask Stacy to come out with him, but was afraid that would be too obvious. Danny waited until the chance finally presented itself, and he asked to join her and Ted and have them show him around.
The heat felt good as the sweat started to bead on the back of his neck. It was like the doors opening at the end of a long flight when the temperature stayed the same and the recirculated air tasted stale. Danny wasn't sure if it was the smell of honeysuckles or Stacy's skin that left him dazed from a sugar high. "Danny.... Danny?"
He woke to Stacy's hand on his arm. "Are you alright?"
He shook off the light touch thinking a bug had landed and saw her eyes look into his. Dark, and haunted.
Stacy asked him again and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. It was dry like the cotton the dentist would use. He was nervous that his deep voice would startle her to turn from him. He managed a "mmm hmmm." She glanced into his eyes again, and he could only think of how he wanted those deep pools to sparkle in the sun. A butterfly landed on his shirt and for the first time he heard her sweet laugh and it fell like soft rain cooling his skin.

Monday, April 28, 2008

Writing

Do you get scared before posting an intimate story, poem, or intense and questioning feelings? Do you feel compelled to share them anyway... to open your soul so that the world can embrace it or trample it at will?

I find it easier to expose myself to many people at once than to just one person privately. Maybe it's because there's a lower chance of rejection, ridicule, anger, disgust or even shame. Because there must be someone out there who has experienced even the tiniest bit of what I write.

I'm thinking about why I write. Yes, it's expression and I use it as a release, to clarify and then try to look more objectively at my thoughts and feelings. But I think I write for understanding, interaction, feedback and accomplishment.

My writing voice is much different from my speaking voice. The tones and word rhythms I hear in my head are more formal. Isn't that funny? You would think they would be more casual. But maybe its because I view my thoughts and emotions with such intensity that is deserving of a more serious and formal tone/voice to express them. I love to write and forgot how much I loved it... how it flows from my head to my fingers.

There was a time when I refused to write on my computer. I was used to a more visceral experience... of my pen pressing down hard on paper leaving marks of the letters on the pages underneath. Crossing sentences and words out because I disliked the way they fit was always down with numerous strokes which then used to annoy me when I felt that I needed that phrase or word in another part of what I was writing. I would have to stare at the paper to find the shapes of the letters hidden under the marks.

Then I started to use computers and saw that the words could flow more freely, quicker than with my right hand and the callus on my middle finger, that bump from gripping the pencil and carving my words. It has started to get smaller and not as noticeable. Believe it or not my brain still works faster than my fingers and when I have a thought of another line to follow if I don't write it down it's possible to lose it as I get involved in the thoughts I am writing at that moment.

It can get distracting sometimes. I prefer to finish the thought I'm in the middle of rather than to write down a reminder word or phrase afraid of losing the flow. And now I have done just that and am racking my brain trying to concentrate on these words hoping that the idea will decide to come out of hiding, as if it's punishing me for ignoring it.

I even reread all the above to see if it would kick start it, but it seems that it's gone. But instead I go back to how I used to shuffle the papers around. And I've just remembered that I wanted to write about how I would agonize over first sentences, how I would write and re-write them. Or even start with the second sentence knowing that something a certain rhythm, cadence of words naturally belonged in front of it. I used to place the papers with different sentences and switch them around till I felt they fit together.

Do you write with a rhythm in your head knowing that a certain word comes next with two syllables and the emphasis on the first one? I do. If I can't remember the word I want I don't usually fill it in with a synonym instead I leave it blank and come back to it later. Re-reading and drumming out the beats of the word in my head until it comes to me or until I use a thesaurus. I do this when I write prose as well as poetry.

I just read an essay on poetry and on the rhythm of syllables. I need to read it again so that I understand it better and can actually use it and the terms describing it that were written there. When I read different authors the words on paper set a rhythm in my head. I like the way it feels, different than my own thoughts.

I guess people would call it a style of writing but when I hear that word it reminds me of the characters and descriptions a writer uses not their____. I also find that writing late at night or very early morning the words flow easier. Is it less barriers because my mind is tired after a long day and thoughts and feelings come out??? Don't know. I'm getting a little too tired to write now it's about four in the morning, and I've been listening to the slight click of my fingers on the keyboard.

What a difference from the sounds of typewriters or even older keyboards. Maybe it's easier for me to write with a computer now because the sound is less distracting to the rhythms in my head. But I remembered one more point about how I also write using an informal voice. That's when I hear my talking voice in my head. It's when I feel as if I'm having a conversation, maybe a more relaxed or joking conversation with the reader. And that made me think that maybe my formal voice I also use my formal voice my writing voice when I speak. Hmmmm.

Too tired to continue and the thoughts are not fighting for attention in my head anymore. My eyes are closing so I'll end this post. I'll read it later to edit it for spelling etc., but this one just wouldn't leave me alone until it was done. Good night or should I say good morning the birds have been singing for over a half hour now. That makes sense considering that its now 6:30. I thought I started writing a little earlier. Guess not. G'morning to you guys I'm off to get some much needed eye rest.


After reading this over again before I posted, I remembered another thought that I lost while I was writing. It's that I don't listen to music when I write. I like quiet. That way I can hear the rhythms more clearly... so maybe that's another reason why I like to write late at night or early in the morning the world and my life is less noisy.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Happiness Is A...

...good book, and all the books I've read by Harlan Ellison are included in that category.

I just got a new one today. A special treat because someone had given DB some books we already had at home. We returned them and I let him pick out some for himself. Then I got one.

HOORAY!! It's mine. It doesn't have to be returned at a specific time. The local library doesn't have that great an assortment of Science Fiction. I can read it now and then choose to read it again in two months without having to be concerned that it's been checked out. I can take it with me into the tub and not have to worry about drops of water on the pages. I can savor it along with chocolate chip cookies and care less about the crumbs that fall.

I've got a huge crush on Harlan Ellison. How could I not when he writes the way he does? This book is a compilation of some of his short stories but with an introduction before each one. I totally love (I was trying to come up with a different description but this is what stuck) when an author does this. You can look into his mind and heart and see how he ticks or tocks.

For all you people who kind of tuned out as soon as you saw the words Science Fiction, WAKE UP!!! This man is one of the greatest short story writers. I feel like a fool trying to use the same words he does in describing him. The words that he transforms into thoughts of gold or dung however you choose to see it. He holds no punches and faces the world with his wicked humor and enduring hope. Yes, Mr. Ellison, your hope is evident as much as you might want to hide it and shovel it under the sarcasm of events that your characters endure. This hope, to quote you, is that "you are not alone"... even with your deepest fears.

Going to stop writing and start reading letting my mind follow along with his.

Friday, July 20, 2007

When We're Married....


Teen, this man that I met on Frumster has been talking as if we are going to get married. He has not met me, and I have not led him on in any way. I haven't been sliding any sexual innuendos into our conversations and I most certainly haven't been talking about marriage. GEEZ LOUISE!!! I haven't even told him that I like him.

I was speaking to a friend of mine tonight and I mentioned that Teen is not the first guy who has brought up marriage before we have even met and without me encouraging the topic in anyway. I have been trying to figure it out. Am I doing something.... am I saying something.... am I choosing to answer the messages of guys who do this? I figure it must be me because this happens so often. Or maybe not... maybe it's just that the guys out there want to get married and when they find someone they enjoy talking to and who listens to them they set their hopes on her.

But it's not like Teen has proposed or anything like that. Although, I do feel he is rushing things.... A LOT.

This got me to thinking about past relationships and how close some of them have come to marriage. I think that I might have led on some of them. Nope, changed my mind.... I think that I loved them, but when it came down to the wire I couldn't think of spending my life with them.

Of course, the first two happened even before I was twenty. One my senior year of high school and he was a college senior. The other one happened that summer after I graduated. I broke it off with both of them. As much as I liked dreaming about being married I was most certainly not ready and neither of them were the right guy for me.

The next two guys were after seminary. One was a divorced older guy and good friends with the guy who asked me two summers earlier. The other wasn't Jewish, but he was the closest I came to saying yes before I met my stbx. Part of the draw to Not-Jewish was his family background William James, psychologist, Henry James, author, Maxfield Parrish and Jean Parrish, artists. How I came to go out with Not-Jewish is for another time. Then there was the Israeli guy, best friends with Doll's husband. He thought that since we made out we would be getting married. There wasn't even any sex and he didn't speak any English, but I did speak Hebrew.

After stbx, there was Mr. Complex (as in Napoleon) and Mr. Move To Israel, and now Teen. Am I giving off marriage vibes like some sort of pheromones through the phone lines??