Three Years and Six Months.
Five Hundred Posts.
It figures that this one be about writing.
(oh, and don’t miss #499, it’s down below…yep, scroll waaay down…)
———-
I’ve really not blogged much lately, seems to be a pattern now that about this time of the year I get bogged down with life stuff and don’t have the want need and or ability to blog regularly. From there I end up not writing in general. I don’t write shorts, I don’t write poems, I don’t write anything. And I don’t write anything down so that I can remember later to write about it.
It goes on and gets worse and then, when someone calls me a writer, I feel bad accepting the title.
But I know that it is what I am, so…
When I get a message from a guy that I’ve known since at least Kindergarten, a guy who was ‘cool’ and somehow managed to end up cool (oh crap, I think I just outed him), and he says that he’s tagged me (his word was ‘pinginged’, seriously) in a blog, I go take a look-see. And when it turns out to be a writing meme…
…I bow my head, re-activate my brain, and try to motivate my fingers…
“So, here’s the challenge: make a list of five strengths that you possess as a writer/artist. It’s not really bragging, it’s an honest assessment (forced upon you by this darn meme). Please resist the urge to enumerate your weaknesses, or even mention them in contrast to each strong point you list. Tag four other writers or artists whom you’d like to see share their strengths.”
Resist the urge to enumerate my weaknesses, or even mention them?!
I’m screwed, but my hat’s in the ring…
1) I am a natural Storyteller.
When I was in kindergarten, Mom picked me up one day and on the way home I told her all about how Sesame Street Live had come to our school, and how cool Big Bird and Snuffy had been. A few days later, when she was relating my excitement to some other moms, she discovered that I had fabricated the entire event.
It’s called lying they said.
I used to be a horrific lier. I would lie about anything just to sound knowledgeable or get out of something. Then one day I met another lier, and I could see so far through his B.S. that I got scared. I began to realize that I must look the same way. So I gave up on it.
I don’t lie anymore, I write fiction.
2) I love detail and it comes out in my writing.
I’m sitting at my desk right now, my flat monitor imposing it’s presence over the back of my aging VAIO laptop. My desk is cluttered, a representation of all that engages my life right now. My phone sits flipped open, half resting on my wallet. There is a book, Beach Music by Pat Conroy, waiting it’s turn, resting quietly beneath a small black saucer plate that currently holds a fork and once held my leftover Village Inn food. A picture of my puppies lies cocked sideways, half hidden by the laptop, I can only see a leash and Mickey’s sad face, it is black and white. Paper litters the remainder of the available space on the table-turned-desk. Junk mail, a note from the neighbor, receipts, an ad for the Comcast Triple Play, a shipping label, and a small red postcard that beckons my return to Larson Ski and Sport, where I may save ten dollars off of this years rental.
I roll a pen cap in my fingers, wondering how best to convey the way I see the world. I type quickly, the table shakes as I shift position while my arms rest upon it. The torn edge of the envelope screams at me, the Stride gum wrapper begs to be noticed.
These things are all there.
Here and now, and there and then.
And when I see them, they become a part of my experience. So when I write about the apathetic waitress at Village Inn, I remember that I shot my straw wrapper at Kelly, and that I later rolled the same wrapper up carefully, lengthwise, and set it on my skillet. And I remember the way the sign on the wall was hung by eye holes wrapping their selves around tiny finishing nails.
The detail makes it real, it takes you there, and whether I’m remembering or fabricating, it matters. To me and to you.
3) I’m willing to work hard to get the right words in the right order to say what I want to say.
Isn’t that an awfully awkward sentence? It sure feels like one to me. Using the right words to say what you need to say gives your tale a flow. I often say that when I’m reading, I get lost in the world that the words create for me. I get sucked into it. But when I come across a word or phrase that doesn’t belong, I pop right back out into the real world.
I remember reading Christopher Paolini’s Eldest, the second in a fantasy trilogy about dragons and dwarves and elves and badgers. It’s a pretty good book and I had been sucked into the story for a good hundred pages. Until. Until I came across the following phrase “Badgers? We don’t need no stinking badgers.” POP! I was out, and it took a while for me to get over it and go back in and finish the book. The pop-culture reference had taken the steam right out of the novel. And the same goes for an awkwardly worded sentence. If you as a reader stumble across words, and they don’t glide right to your brain and become images, you will POP right out.
So, as a writer, I take the time to make sure I’ve not left any cracks in the sidewalk, I wouldn’t want you to trip.
So let’s re-work the title on this point.
As a writer, I strive to keep the reader engaged through careful word choice.
That’s better.
4) I have an extremely active imagination.
See point 1.
5) I have an ear for rhythm and rhyme.
I’d be remiss to touch on my strengths as a writer without having at least one point about poetry. Poetry is where I first dabbled in writing. In Junior High I wrote all manner of sappy-puppy-love poems to girls that I’d never have the courage to ask out. And somewhere along the way, probably late in High School, I realized that I’d graduated from gushy to good. I’d begun tackling serious subjects in poetry. I was motivated to share it with people. And it was from some of this early feedback that I started to realize that I heard things differently than most people. I hear the sounds and flow of words, as though everything were in song. The ebb and flow and the way things go. It’s a natural talent, and I’ve been working on it for about ten years now.
The way I hear the world,
Is like the whips and cracks of the wind in a flag unfurled.
Alright folks, that’s it. It took me two and a half weeks to get this put together. It was really hard, but I think worth it. Now that I’ve done the work, I have the pleasure of passing the meme on to some friends. Four to be exact. Todd, Steve, Giles, and Cuyler. Go!
