writing

Just say something… anything

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That’s the advice of a fellow blogger. Rather than abandoning a regular post for lack of ideas just start talking, who cares what you say.

I have a little trouble with the who-cares part.

Anyway, I decided to start talking and just see where it would go. At the very least, I thought I would tell you a quick story. One where I made a choice and got away with it, until I didn’t. It has to happen to all of us sometime, right?

So I was writing this inspired version of the story, including pictures to illustrate the point. The trouble was, one of the pictures was in a weird format and no matter what I did nothing changed. It was irritating because one picture was big and beautiful and the other was not.

The trouble escalated when I explored, trying to find something in this new editing format that would help me out.

I clicked on the Wrong button.

It was something called enhanced format or some such thing. I did not want to go there but it would not let me leave. There was no close or cancel button that I could see. No matter what I did it wouldn’t go away.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I trashed the whole thing.

I’m starting over with a scaled back version of my story…which is probably better anyway.

The law of averages says you can keep taking a chance but sooner or later something will backfire and get you.

I’ve been doing a bunch of pruning in my yard this fall.

I have a nice sharp pair of clippers. If I twist just the right way with grit and determination, I can muscle through some good sized branches. By good sized I mean about twice as big as one of my fingers.

Anything bigger I’m out of luck. Usually.

Last fall while my teenage grandsons were over I borrowed a long handled pruner from my neighbor and they whistled through the bigger branches. The ones I couldn’t cut with my clippers. They weren’t huge. Maybe an inch and a half thick.

This fall, I still had those long handled clippers. I looked at them, looked at my small trees and thought, why not? I bet I can cut something with them.

Sure enough, it worked and I was thrilled.

It was easy to move on to bigger and bigger branches until it was almost impossible to have the strength to squeeze the handles together enough to get the job done.

Where there’s a will there’s a way. Get creative.

With lots of whole body contortions I discovered I could rest one handle against my left side, grip the other handle with both hands and squeeze with everything I had. It worked. Sometimes I had to finish the last little bit with my small clippers, but it worked.

I was down to the second last tree and it was awkward up against the fence, so close to another tree. Somehow I just couldn’t seem to get the usual angles happening. My left side normally worked better for this chore but not this time. So I decided to give my right side another try.

Bad move.

Something popped. I was Ow, Ow, Ow, THAT hurt. Hmmm. Let’s go back to the left side.

I’ve never cracked a rib before.

It’s been about four weeks and things are starting to feel better. If I behave I can forget it’s even happened.

The trick is to know when to hold and when to fold. I gambled and lost 🙂

So, like my guy in the Sunday story prompt…. I have one more story to tell the grandkids.

Story Prompt – Paper

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Sunday Scribblings initiator of these story prompts is hosted by peckapalooza – the Confusing Middle

Paper

Rock Paper Scissors. Her brother’s favorite decision-making method.

Jared’s wife called Jenna in a panic. Jared and his best friend Daniel were hours overdue. They had planned to be back from their afternoon hike in time for dinner. He promised. Said they would be a couple hours, tops.

Jenna was pretty sure this would turn out to be another event where logic would have been the better choice.

One more time, she was grateful for her search and rescue dog Nadia. who’d had lots of practice finding Jared. Jenna had no doubt, this time would be the same. They would find him. Alive or dead – that would be the question.

Her search and rescue team had a good track record for bringing him home too. They knew from experience they’d better bring every piece of equipment they owned or they’d be sorry.

Actually, dealing with Jared and his friend was better than trying to stage simulation exercises. Between Jared and their other occasional rescues they didn’t need much extra practice.

As they were suiting up the guys were taking bets on what kind of pickle Jared had gotten himself and his friend into this time. No one was betting against a pickle of some sort, they knew for sure they’d lose. Some of the guys were getting pretty good at getting it right, they won the pot more often than anyone else. Now even that was getting to be predictable. Maybe they should start taking bets on who would win the pot, just to change it up a bit.

The lighthearted fun of guessing helped reduce the worry and the not-again thoughts. How many times could one guy get himself in trouble and still have it turn out OK?

It wasn’t long before they knew for sure there’d been a Rock Paper Scissors moment. The guys were following an old animal trail through the woods and it split. Veer right or left. Which way?

Nadia’s nose said go right.

At first this looked like an okay choice but it wasn’t long before the trail started to peter out. Trouble could be close.

It was a good thing everyone felt the same sense of caution. Who would have known the trees were hiding a deadly drop off. One wrong move and a person could end up splattered on the rocks hundreds of feet below.

Daniel had good hearing and started yelling about the same time the team discovered the hazard. Peeking over the edge, they found Jared had landed on a ledge and Daniel was beside him. The guys had no way to get back up without a rope. A rope wouldn’t have been much help to Jared anyway. He’d had a bad landing and his leg took the brunt of the force. The only way they’d get him out would be a helicopter rescue.

Pulling Daniel back up after Jared was gone was no big deal.

As they trudged their way back home Jenna couldn’t help feeling miffed with her brother.

He takes all of this stuff in stride. He thinks it’s funny.

“Just think of the stories I’ll have to tell my grandchildren” he says.

If he lives long enough to have grandchildren.

So-help-me, next time I think I’ll just leave him there.

I think his wife might even thank me for it.

Story prompt – Carnival

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Sunday Scribblings  initiator of these story prompts is hosted by peckapalooza – the Confusing Middle

Today’s prompt … Carnival

This is one more installment in the ongoing saga of Bella, as she settles into a new witness protection situation.

Carnival

Exhausted, that’s what she was. It’s Saturday, no need to get up. Bella sank back into her welcoming blankets. Later… she would think about getting up later. For now sleep was easy and she let herself go.

Several hours later she still couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. Maybe she’d just lie there for awhile thinking about the week behind and the week ahead, that would be a good thing. She wasn’t even aware when she’d drifted back to sleep.

By the time she woke for real and forced herself to get up, the temptation to give in to more sleep was still strong. That would be an unhealthy choice on so many levels. Sleep wouldn’t happen tonight, that’s for sure.

What was with her anyway? It wasn’t like her to be sleepy like this.

Things seemed to be going pretty well at work. In the last few months her new business was growing as word of mouth brought new clients. Financially it looked like she had little reason to be worried for the future.

Personally, people were friendly and she’d met a few women she already could tell would be an important part of her new life.

As she polished off her late afternoon brunch the phone rang. Oh, No.

There’s a carnival in town and she’d promised to meet her new friends there.

It’s a good thing she rolled out of bed when she did.

A knee jerk reaction – do you ever have them?

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It keeps happening and I have no idea why. It happened again today.

Jerry Jenkins, author of dozens of books, loves to encourage writers to become the best they can be. He often puts out free mini courses and today I was gong to read the newest one. It’s called Breaking down the 7 main story elements. To write a story you have to be a writer.

That thought right there, being a writer, was the trigger to an intense, visceral, emotional, knee jerk, negative reaction. I know, it seems like that’s overkill on the descriptive words but that’s about how it is, Fight or flight. Just short of a melt down. This happens to me fairly often with this writer idea and I have no idea why. It makes no sense that I can see. I’m sure there must be a mental health professional out there somewhere, though, who could tell me why.

It’s funny because I have this denial thing going on and yet I’ve spent years working on my communication skills. More recently I’ve joined a writers group, started this blog, read whatever catches my eye teaching me how to be a better writer, and even started a little fiction story. Go figure.

So, after some settling down time, I read through the tutorial and took notes on Jerry’s material about 7 main story elements.

The presentation was encouraging to me in several ways.

First; I’m stalled out on the story I’m writing, have been for awhile now. As I read what Jerry had to say, some things began to come together in my mind. I know where I need to go next with my characters.

Second and more importantly; it helped in regard to Book Reviews. I love books, some more than others. I love in different ways, for different reasons. The challenge is to put words to emotional responses. The struggle to express myself has caused me to dislike and avoid book reviews.

I’m discovering that instructions on the how and why of writing is helping me understand both what makes a story relatable and what is happening in the writing of the story for it to draw me in so completely.

A discussion of the story elements and the words used to describe them has also helped tremendously. It’s getting easier to move past simply I love this book and on to compiling a list for the reasons why I love this book.

I’m still feeling inadequate to understand and express my thoughts about books, but it’s getting better. I’m excited about that. The attempt with this post is probably helping me more than you.

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The most enjoyable part in the learning to write process, for me anyway, is the reading of excellent books. They say to be a great writer we must read extensively. I am all over that.

My most recently read & enjoyed book is The Maid of Fairbourne Hall 

Jerry Jenkins talked about the importance of describing the setting in layers throughout the story as opposed to a full description prior to stepping into the story itself.

Layers is the operative word here and this book did that.

The other thing this book did was make the story real, transporting me to a different time and place.

It’s a good thing this was Saturday and I could stick with it to the end.

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Currently, I’ve selected a series that’s been on my TBR list since the middle of July. After a few pages I’m hooked and since Terri Blackstock is a long time favorite I’m looking forward to this.

The If I Run Series: If I Run, If I’m Found, If I Live 

If I Run … book 1

Casey knows the truth. But it won’t set her free.

Casey Cox’s DNA is all over the crime scene. There’s no use talking to police; they’ve failed her abysmally before. She has to flee before she’s arrested . . . or worse. The truth doesn’t matter anymore.

But what is the truth? That’s the question haunting Dylan Roberts, the war-weary veteran hired to find Casey. PTSD has marked him damaged goods, but bringing Casey back can redeem him. Though the crime scene seems to tell the whole story, details of the murder aren’t adding up.

Casey Cox doesn’t fit the profile of a killer. But are Dylan’s skewed perceptions keeping him from being objective? If she isn’t guilty, why did she run?

Unraveling her past and the evidence that condemns her will take more time than he has, but as Dylan’s damaged soul intersects with hers, he is faced with two choices: the girl who occupies his every thought is a psychopathic killer . . . or a selfless hero. And the truth could be the most deadly weapon yet.

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Writing this post has been helpful in working things out in my mind. I’m hoping it’s managed to make a little sense for you in reading it.

Check out JerryJenkins.com if you are interested in hearing more from him.

In the meantime…

Happy Reading!

Story prompt – Expectation

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Sunday Scribblings  initiator of these story prompts is hosted by peckapalooza – the Confusing Middle

Today’s prompt …

Expectation

I was hoping to write some awesome fiction for today’s submission but I think my self-expectations were too high. I don’t seem to have much of an imagination when it comes to stories worth reading.

I suppose, with enough effort it would be possible for me to produce something but honestly … my heart is just not in it. There are so many other things I feel passionate about.

When I look at this whole idea realistically, it makes sense to be thoughtful and wise when deciding where to spend my time. Not that I will never write fiction, just not today.

Sometimes my expectations are too high but sometimes they are not high enough.

So, this was my task for yesterday. The two smaller trees in front were in need of a prune. It doesn’t really look like it so much in this picture because fall is here and most of the leaves have dropped. A few weeks ago, though, they did look overgrown and in need of a haircut.

The day went well and I managed to prune and clean up the main mess before I ran out of daylight. Six very large garbage bags later.

So this is what it looked like post haircut.

I know, you are probably thinking that looks more like a scalping than a haircut.

Last year I did the same thing to a tree in the front yard. I didn’t really know what expect but I figured it would probably take a couple of years at least for it to grow back. Boy was I wrong.

The lovely full tree on the left was scalped last year and look how lush it is now.

My expectations were blown out of the water. I can see what I should have been doing all along.

The bush in front is a lilac and it can’t be treated quite the same way. It will have to wait to have it’s major haircut next spring after it blooms. I can hardly wait.

So…

My project today was to be haircuts for these three trees. I managed to get the middle one done and cleaned up before the rain started. Tomorrow is another day but as long as I get it done before the snow flies it will all be good.

Next year’s challenge will be to win the war with the bunnies. They’ve eaten most of the tender perennials gracing the center part of this flower bed.

My expectation is to find a way to be smarter than they are and win the turf war.

Story prompt – Lost

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Sunday Scribblings  initiator of these story prompts is hosted by peckapalooza – the Confusing Middle

Lost

Lost? Me? Why would you think that?

What. You’ve heard rumors? Really? Where? Who’ve you been talking to?

My grandson’s? And you believe them? They are only kids, you can’t believe everything they say. They believe in Santa Claus. They don’t always have their facts straight.

They said I was late to a party?

I may have been late but I wasn’t lost. I just took a wrong turn. How was I to know that street went round and round through one of those new mega housing developments. I thought I could just go around the block. Done. How was I to know it would be so hard to find the way out?

There were other times?

Well, yeah, I guess. It wasn’t my fault though. I thought I could go a different route and it would work out just fine.

Why didn’t I just use GPS to start with?

I don’t trust those voices from who knows where. They give bad advice and take me places I don’t want to be.

Like the time I was supposed to pick up someone at the front door of a hotel and the lady kept taking me to the underground pick up door. I was in big trouble for being late.

Ok, so they do give me good advice sometimes.

There was that one night I was trying to find my way back to hotel-row to get a room. Eventually I asked for help and I’ll admit it did work that time.

Someone told you I could write a book about my getting lost times?

I would never admit to a thing like that. It could be true, or not, I’ll never tell.

Besides, I never get lost.

I always know where I am. I just don’t know how to get to where I need to be sometimes.

Anyway, it all works out eventually. There was only that one time I gave up and went home. Every other time it worked out just fine.

In my opinion, to be truly lost someone would have to come rescue me.

OK, so maybe there was that one time my brother had to rescue me… or was it two times?

Story prompt – Hunger?

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Today I was supposed to come up with a contribution to the confusing middle’s story prompt day. I have nothing.

I was going to just let it go, say nothing, and hit the pillow – again.

That’s all I’ve felt like doing today, sleep. And I did.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m having so much trouble staying awake today. Part of it could be seasonal allergies, I’ve been out working in the yard. Part of it could be the energy expended trying to dig out a well established rhubarb root yesterday.

I say trying because I doubt I managed to get it all. One root looked like it was headed under the privacy fence and into the neighbors yard. Surprise. They enjoy rhubarb so it’s all good.

(Did you know rhubarb roots look like sweet potatoes when you slice through them? I found that fascinating.)

Part of tired could be from dehydration and meal skipping. I’ve been eating just enough here and there that I didn’t feel hunger to eat a proper meal.

I wasn’t doing it on purpose. It’s just become a recent bad habit.

It wasn’t healthy food either, those bad habit snacks. I bought a 30 piece box of fudgesicles, and a 20 piece box of ice cream sandwiches, in case the grandsons were here again. Another new bad habit. Ice Cream.

About 7:30 tonight I decided I was properly hungry and needed some real food. So I made a stir fry. The noodles don’t qualify as healthy but the carrots, celery, raisins, and peanuts do.

So now I’m feeling a little more awake, having fueled up, and … telling you why I have no story has turned into a story, of sorts.

For any who might zoom in on the page I’m reading and wonder what book would have a guy mentioning how none of his recent dates seemed interested in settling down …

I’m reading book 2 Blessed Arrangements in …

Miss Main Street The Complete Series: Books 1-3: Small Town Stories of Friendship and Romance

Sorry Aaron. Maybe next week will be better.

Story prompt – Gold

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Sunday Scribblings  is hosted by peckapalooza – the Confusing Middle

This weeks prompt is Gold.

The first thing to come to mind for this weeks prompt was … There’s gold in them thar hills.

You could justly accuse me of reading too many penny dreadfuls. There are a zillion stories of men afflicted with gold fever. Selling all they had, heading for the gold fields where rumor had it fist sized nuggets were sitting in the streams waiting for men to come by and pick them up.

The many fictional stories are based in fact. The gold rush was at it’s height in the mid-to-late 1800s and stretched from California to Alaska. It’s true there was gold to be found by some but more often than not it was the outfitters who made money on the phenomenon. Life was beyond hard for many of these dreamers and their families. Many loved ones were left behind to wait for a man who may or may not ever come home.

One positive fallout from men chasing their dreams – many areas of the US and Canada were settled with residue from the influx of hopeful prospectors.

Some settlements were short lived and a few of those survived as ghost towns. One is Barkerville in British Columbia, Canada. It’s listed as a world class historical site and well worth seeing. As a BC resident most of my life, I’ll admit to travelling through the Fraser Canyon dozens of times without making the short detour to visit Barkerville. It’s still on my wish list.

There are many non fiction books to be had on the subject but here is one such book by a celebrated author with personal connections to the Klondike.

The Klondike Fever: The Life And Death Of The Last Great Gold Rush 

Amazon quote:
In 1897 a grimy steamer docked in Seattle and set into epic motion the incredible succession of events that Pierre Berton’s exhilarating The Klondike Fever chronicles in all its splendid and astonishing folly. For the steamer Portland bore two tons of pure Klondike gold. And immediately, the stampede north to Alaska began. Easily as many as 100,000 adventurers, dreamers, and would-be miners from all over the world struck out for the remote, isolated gold fields in the Klondike Valley, most of them in total ignorance of the long, harsh Alaskan winters and the territory’s indomitable terrain. Less than a third of that number would complete the enormously arduous mountain journey to their destination. Some would strike gold. Berton’s story belongs less to the few who would make their fortunes than to the many swept up in the gold mania, to often unfortunate effects and tragic ends. It is a story of cold skies and avalanches, of con men and gamblers and dance hall girls, of sunken ships, of suicides, of dead horses and desperate men, of grizzly old miners and millionaires, of the land — its exploitation and revenge. It is a story of the human capacity to dream, and to endure.

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If I lived in those times I think I would have become an outfitter to amass my share of the gold. Seems like a safer bet.

Story prompt – Mountains

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Sunday Scribblings  is hosted by peckapalooza – the Confusing Middle

This weeks prompt is Mountains.

Usually, I try to write a story with the prompt. Failing that, I try to write something/anything.

This morning my creativity feels stopped up and I have nothing. It’s like the mountains currently in my life are creating the barrier.

I thought, hey, I could write a blog post about personal mountains interfering with my obligations.

The more I considered the idea the less it seemed like a prudent move. Maybe I could just leave a comment on Aaron’s site explaining my lack of participation. That sounded like a better idea.

One good thing about procrastination; it gave me time to think things through and come up with a better idea.

I decided the post idea was the best way after all.

I had two thoughts causing doubts about the wisdom of sharing. Maybe some would make more out of my mountains than they should. That could cause ripple effects. Or maybe more would say What, you call that molehill a mountain?

I decided they are my molehills and I can call them mountains if I want to. So there.

I think I just killed two birds with one stone.

Story Prompt – Wonder

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Sunday Scribblings  is hosted by Peckapalooza: The Confusing Middle.  This weeks prompt is … Wonder. You are invited to join in.

Wonder

Bella’s eyes popped open and she was instantly awake. Rolling over to check the clock, she found there was still a half hour before her alarm would ring. It must be anticipation excitement. This was officially the first day of her new life as a small business owner in a new town, full of people she didn’t know. So many new firsts.

There was no sense trying to go back to sleep. Her body was literally humming with excitement. May as well get up and get going. She could probably use the extra time anyway. With so much on her mind it would be easy to forget she was supposed to be getting ready for the day.

Her first and only scheduled meeting was with the Chamber of Commerce President. Bella noticed Alma was bubbling over with good ideas on how Bella could get started. Their ten o’clock meeting should be interesting. The plan was to spend the morning discussing ideas and then meet for lunch with a few chamber members. The others were looking forward to meeting the new lady in town.

Bella wasn’t sure what to make of all this enthusiasm. In all of the many places she’d lived she’d never encountered anyone quite like the women she was about to meet. Their high level of creative energy must be what made this town so vibrant and appealing. She had a feeling life for her would be good and she was going to love it here.

Bella decided Alma could do a roaring business if she were to operate a dating site. In matchmaker mode this morning she had Bella lined up with her first date, er, client.

Robert’s small wood working shop was successful by all accounts. He was a finish carpenter specializing in furniture and cabinetry, although he would do house repairs and window installations as a sideline. His bookkeeping and filing system, however, was another matter. He needed someone to step in and create order out of the chaos, if Alma were to be believed.

Bella figured there’s no time like the present and arranged an appointment to meet with Robert in the morning. They could assess his needs, her abilities, and see if working together would be a good fit for both of them.

The revolving door in the Chamber office was amazing to Bella. There had been a steady stream of business owners all morning. Obviously, the town grapevine was alive and well. Word had spread far and wide and everyone out and about, business owner or not, had stopped by to meet the lady new in town.

“Ready for Lunch?” Alma wanted to know. “If you are, we have set up an informal gathering in one of the restaurant meeting rooms. No pressure, just a relaxed welcome to town to make it official. Do you have any burning questions arising out of the morning’s meet and greet?”

Bella was sure she had questions but … “I think I need to sort through some of the information swirling through my mind and get back to you. For sure, there will be questions.

I have to tell you, this morning surpassed any expectations I had going in. Thank you so much for this, Alma.  I can’t believe I have a possible client already. You are amazing. No wonder the economic climate of this town is so healthy. You and the other Chamber members are a force to be reckoned with”

With her feet up, relaxed on a comfy chair after all the busyness, Bella relived the days stream of events and marveled at her good fortune in choosing this town for her new life. Her heart was filled with wonder at the warm reception her new friends had so freely given her.

New friends and a possible client, all in one morning. What could be better than that?