When Words are like Ninjas

I recently lamented, to anyone that still listens to me, about my having pieces of a story I was unable to make whole.

It happens frequently, an idea slams my brain leaving me unable to focus on the task of living, instead filling my thoughts with potential beginnings and endings. I'm good at that - bookend thoughts, without any real filling.

It also started me thinking about how I create what I call a story. It begins as a glimmer, something fluttering in on tiny fragile wings, hoping to take a breath and become flesh. I've written a number of things I call super short stories, which in reality are likely just drafts of a story - words flung onto paper because they were just too fidgety for me to keep inside my head until they matured. They aren't really stories yet, they could just linger in this stage forever. Well, actually, only until I wake up the next morning and forget everything. So, these ideas do, apparently, have a shelf life. 

Beginnings are my specialty, I start things like a boss. It is the follow through, in depth thought and completion where I falter...so, like all of it really. This brain fog that settles in, refusing to evaporate, doesn't help. I feel as if the completion to my ideas is forever out of my grasp.

But I still try, because I cannot escape the words, those little ninja acrobats that bounce around in my head, and I've come to think of myself as a Story Starter. Maybe I'm someone who writes a draftory (draft + story = draftory...it's brilliant, I'm a genius) and offers it up to the world, sparking a story idea in someone who isn't bound and gagged by their soggy brain. Someone who can actually put a story together. Do people pay for this sort of thing, draftories?


The creating part is so frustrating, especially for someone like me who is so UN-trained in  the art. The idea spills forward like a flood, I edit all the misspelled words, glaring grammar errors (while ignoring those that I deem cute) and then hit 'publish'. That's it. What results is whatever people perceive it to be.

However, it's really just a draft. It needs fermentation, to bubble and toil and be made just right. I have little patience (or skill) for that. And, besides...it is the danger zone. I've hastily written down great story ideas and then let them sit to contemplate. I edit - and wait. I edit some more, because I've done some thinking - ALWAYS a bad idea - and then edited some more. Now, my story resembles nothing of its former self - it has now become Frankenprose, a monster story that I don't like anymore.

It could be I've been impatient, yet again. Maybe I'm not giving my edits enough time, I'm not fermenting the changes long enough to evolve from a tart, juicy thought to a smooth finish. Perhaps.

I feel as if I'm bound within a glass box, where I see the end - but can only dream of it. My stories deserve a writer who can pump oxygen into them. Not all of my ideas are good, but some of them are. Alas, we may never know.

I'll leave you with the latest idea that's been plaguing my brain. It is still a draft, a story in its infancy. We'll see if it grows up some day.

Stairs

Every day after school this is where Gracie stops, the 6th stair. One foot tentatively touching the 7th, one foot up, one foot down - straddled between what is and what may be.

Every day she hesitates, steadying her breath, going over the plan: who to call first? Her best friend or 911? To call a friend means a comforting hand when the paramedics arrive. The one friend who knows everything, who knows how hard it is for mom to make it through some days. The one friend who was there for Gracie through each attempt. The one friend who knew Gracie's pain from Mom begging her not to tell anyone about what she tried to do, explaining them away as accidents, the mishaps of a klutz. Mom could be so persuasive, pleading like a heartbroken child. She was, really, so very heartbroken. Something was so wrongly shattered in Mom that no amount of love or good grades Gracie showered upon her would bring light to her eyes - only shadows lurked there.

One more step and a turn of the knob. One more step to know if fates will be changed forever and whether two people will finally be set free. A turn of the knob and quiet shout, "Hi mom. I'm home. Was today a good day?"

Wordless Wednesday 12: And so it begins...Again.

  

 

 

 

 

The Sea, NaBloPoMo and a Story??

February arrives tomorrow and I'm fully convinced it is a self-centered-attention-hog sort of month. I swear it bullied January into passing as quickly as possible. Wasn't January 1st just last week? What happened to this month???

 When February arrives tomorrow, pushing and shoving no doubt, it will bring with it yet another NaBloPoMo opportunity. I participated in the writing-every-day challenge back in November - the anniversary month of NaBloPoMo. It was fun, interesting, hard, frustrating and I'm so glad I did it. NaBloPoMo introduced me to some incredible writers to which I feel very connected.

The more a person writes, the better they become at coaxing the thoughts from their brain to have them travel down their arms and through their fingers to race along the keyboard *tippitytappity* - depositing those ideas onto a blank screen.

It is oodles of fun. Until it isn't.

There is always an, "until"...in everything we do, isn't there?

So, right now I'm trying to entice the story that is in my head to live in my computer instead. These things tend to relentlessly occupy my thoughts! While I'm doing that, I am also contemplating another run at NaBloPoMo. Maybe.

While I write, I am resisting the ever present urge to flee to the ocean. It has my number, the sea, and it keeps calling me. There is only so much nagging I can take before I cave in and give it what it wants. It misses me...I think.  So it should come as no surprise that my little story (??is this really a story??) has everything to do with the sea.

The Story

She fashioned herself a crown - not of rubies and pearls, but of bottle caps and sea glass.

With it She sat upon the shore commanding the waves to greet her feet with a caressing curtsy. She would then cast them away with her gnarled driftwood wand, only to watch their devoted return - the waves couldn't keep away, so devoted they were to her. She bid the seahorses to gather the diamonds that bobbed upon the swells, glittering in the sunlight, which She would then feed to the sharks - keeping their teeth strong and plentiful, should She ever need to declare war upon the destroyers of her realm. People pass by, with headphones and cellphones and chatting partners, blissfully unaware of her. They might imagine seeing a girl seated upon the sand, gazing toward the horizon. 

Did they see the diamonds? What about the chorus of turtles, or the jellyfish ballet?  No, they didn't. Her Queendom performing for her eyes only. When it came time to leave and do things that are required, expected and necessary, She knew the sea would pine away for her. "Fear not," she says, "for you belong to me and I to you."  And so it waits for her return.

Happy One More Day Closer To The Weekend, my peeps.

Jingle Jangle in my Pocket

In my hand I hold a check for $50. (well, I was holding it but now I'm typing...but I keep it close so that I can pet it and stroke it. What??)

It is payment for a syndicated blog post of mine. I am still...*STILL*...in shock anyone would want to pay me real greenbacks for something I wrote.

However, the big question here is - What shall I DO with the money?

There is always something I need and an infinite list of things I want.

But this $50 is...SPECIAL.

If you are a person who writes, but does not consider yourself a writer, then you know what I mean. This money signifies something I can't exactly put into words yet. Rather ironic, don't ya think?

So, spending it on another kitchen utensil to further my DIY crazymaking adventures or a new pair of shoes doesn't really seem to do it justice. 

I suppose it could go toward something from my Bucket List?

Nah....

Would you like to know what I really want?

Really...

Really....

REALLY....

Want?

I want another tattoo.


My first tattoo story can be read here, I won't rehash it for my regular readers.

I love body art (not so much the piercings). I love that ink so often tells a story. Granted, that isn't always the case. Some people are happy picking flower pattern #23 out of a book - much like picking a sandwich from the deli menu. That isn't the approach I want to take when making permanent additions to my body.


I want my next ink to be 100% me. I want a compass rose.  Yes, yes...oodles of people have compass rose tattoos, I'm intimately familiar with Google Images. The 'idea' isn't unique, but the image itself has so many possibilities.

I want it to mirror my other tattoo and live on my left wrist. I want to SEE it every day. A reminder that even a restless mind and spirit needs a center and place to call home. Elements of the image are floating in my head, but need an artists skill to make it breathe.

But it is going to take more than $50.

I think I need to start scanning the house for things to sell. I'll roll this into my desire for a more zen household and consider it part of my purging quest - I get rid of stuff and people pay me to take it off my hands.  WIN-WIN!!

I wonder if Hubbypants would miss the TV? Hmmm...I guess it would be rather hard NOT to notice 61" of screen has gone missing. I should probably start smaller.

I might even need to hold a fundraiser or two. Perhaps start an INK Melissa campaign? Anyone want to buy some cake pops? How about bread? I'm getting rather good at this baking thing. I will hire out my children for house & yard work. I might even throw a couple of bucks their way, seeing as how they'll actually be doing the grunt work - of course, it will be at my discretion and dependent upon any bouts of teen angst & tantrums.

Oh...did I also mention I want a 3rd tattoo? My Dio de los Muertos skull...on the back of my neck. But, this is a post for a different day...and once I sell a bunch more stuff. Do you think Hubbypants would notice if I sold his brewing stuff? (poor Hubbypants, he's really such a trooper to put up with me)

Who's with me?

Whether you like them or not, if you WERE to get a tattoo...

What would you want?

And finally, because the title of this post has left me with this earworm, I'm going to share....

p.s.
I'll accept private donations as well.

p.p.s.
Cash or check only.

p.p.p.s.
I'm totally kidding.

p.p.p.p.s.
Well, maybe not *totally*. Far be it for me to turn down a generous benefactor.

p.p.p.p.p.s.
{giggle}

Words We Should Not Keep

If I were an artist, 

I would make this into a poster

and

then

I'd give it to you.

Yes, you...

The one who stores these words

in her head,

giving them a place to nest, 

and 

then

believes them. 

But, I'm not an artist,

I'm just like you. 

Perhaps together

you

and 

I

Can put these words

where they belong

and 

then

they will no longer reside

inside of

us.

(Click to enlarge image)

Wordless Wednesday 7: The ART of punishment...

It's Only Words...

...and words are all I have, to take your heart away!

Words to steal a heart are so much less messy than knives or swords or what have you.

Like how I took endearing song lyrics and associated them with some barbaric serial killer sort of act.

Ya, I knew that you would.

You is MY kind of people.

Although, truth be told...I can't watch those icky slasher movies.

I'm a wimp to the nth degree.

This post is not about blood spurting hack-'em-up slasher movies.

This post is about words.

More specifically, words that give you a bubbles-in-your-tummy giddy feeling (not gassy, giddy).

The words I picked, that you'll see in a minute...just hold yer horses, are words that I've encountered since my last blog post on the 3rd.

Some of them are from blogs I've read recently, a book, and my son as he was working on an essay. (Yes, he's writing an essay during summer vacation...damn high school is trying to get these kids ready for college. The nerve...goofing off is just as important you know. Don't get me started...oy).

I often encounter bubble-giddy words, but usually just breeze over them.

Not so, this time...Lucky You!

Also, this is by no means an exhaustive list.

The list of words I love is NOT ginormous, but rather small actually.

I just can't remember them all right now, so I'm only using these few.

Yes, I'm finally getting to the words.

My goodness you are impatient.

Here we go...

Kerfuffle: A commotion or fuss.
Now, this word sounds like it should be in the flatulence family. "Oh, pardon me, I just kerfuffled." Of course, highly audible and odoriferous flatulence could lead to a kerfuffle...so, yeah...there ya go...same family.

I gave the simple definition of kerfuffle, but really...meaning' of a word rarely has any bearing on whether I like it or not.

It isn't a major factor in whether it gives me champagne fizzies in my tummy.

It is the 'SOUND' of the word.

Betwixt:
Commonly found palling around with Between - getting into all sorts of vague scuffles.
Betwixt and Between - neither one nor the other, neither here nor there.
Betwixt alone is dandy, but when left to run amok with Between it is just magical - because, that unknown middle can offer so much possibility and potential (when one does not get stuck in the middle muck and sucked in forever).

Chiffonade:
I think this should be a wild-card word. Like the joker in a card game, you get to choose what it will be to suit your needs. A culinary word that means cutting herbs into little slivers (short version, I'm sure) just seems too humdrum. Now, it would be more fun to use it as an 'anything' word, like: "I'll just grab my chiffonade and we can go" or "That man just grabbed my chiffonade" or "My chiffonade is out of wack/backed up/on fire/lonely/hiding/wet..."
I mean, just imagine the conversational chaos you could wreak and the imaginations you'll spark by using such a wild-card word.

Scenario:
Now, THIS word is here because of its meaning. I picked part of definition #3 from Dictionary.com, because it best described my love of the word: "...an imagined or projected sequence of events, especially any of several detailed plans or possibilities..." In other words, scenario is another word for story (in my opinion), one that can evolve any way I want. Since I LIKE to be the Queen, I therefore LIKE to make the scenarios do as I wish. Surely you can see why this word would be on my favorites list.

Tumultuous:
There can be some bad juju hovering over tumultuous, since it is often used to describe explosive relationships, situations etc. But, the sound is so provocative - as if it belongs with 'voluptuous' or 'sumptuous' (both having been used to describe me, by the way. Ok...not really, but it could happen). I just like the sound of the word, it's sexy, and I do like that it means turbulent - a disruption of sorts - since upheaval is sometimes necessary to move forward into something bigger and better.

Nth
Little need be said of this word(s). Wait...can Nth stand on its own? Or, does it need a partner (hearken back to those bff's, Betwixt & Between)? Yes, it DOES need it's own bff. Nth describes a measurement of sorts, whether it be "It was delicious to the nth degree" or "This is the nth time I've asked you to take out the garbage".

**Now, if you use nth degree on a teenager when referring to something you've asked them to do several times, of which they ignore, you may find yourself in a debate over the number value that nth implies. Take the garbage refrence above for example- a parent may see, "This is the nth time..." as something measuring into the double digits...possibly triple, while a teenager will see it as "Huh, you only asked me like twice?" Thus ensues a debate over the necessity of having to say/ask ANYTHING more than once. Nth is tricky, use it with caution.

So...have you been humming the Bee Gees song in your head the entire time you've been reading?

No? Oh...well, let me help that stick in your head then...but you'll have to click the link, because I'm an idiot and cannot figure out how to embed the video here. I need picture instructions...sheesh...

Bee Gees: It's Only Words

It's catchy, no?

Of course it is...AND...it will be with you ALL stinking day.

It has been with me since July 3rd.

I'm hoping that by leaving it here, it will hitch a ride in YOUR brain instead.

You're welcome.

Enjoy.

Oh...and feel free to leave your own favorite word (not song, or I'll hunt you down, I swear) in comments. I'm always looking to add to my collection.

Peace!