Monday, October 12, 2009
Lightening Strike
Holy cow I have so much to say, and no time! I'll be back with details soon, promise, but for right now all I can say is that sometimes lightening strikes, and it's a good thing!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
A Quick Note...
It's been a while, I know. It's funny how that works, isn't it? I mean, the way time passes at the same speed, every second of forever, and yet we feel like we're swimming in molasses some days, and others are just a blink of the eye.
Recently, certain parts of my life have been fast, and others, slow. Life always tends to intrude on my better times with a little dose of harsh reality every now and then, so while things are definitely pretty good, there's always those things that are a little less good...or just downright bleh.
I've spent so much more time focusing on other aspects of my life right now that my computer has basically been abandoned for a few months. I probably get on it once every 5 days or so, as opposed to 5 times every day. I feel a lot better about that, but it makes me a little sad to because I miss being able to just write it as it comes to me, during the day (or night). But even though I have to put it off now until I get to my designated time to write, I think it's better like this. Less focus on the whole wide (& mostly unimportant, and unrelated to anything I'll ever be a part of) world the internet opens for me, more focus on the reality of my day-to-day life.
Even though I'm writing less here, I'm writing more "there", in my life. And that's great, because there is something so cathartic about writing longhand, to me at least. A good ball point pen, and some blank papers and I'm off, free-falling into whatever universe I want.
Lately I've been getting to the "wine" of the story. The part where the exciting newness has worn off, and reality has more or less settled into it. Now it's work. But it's better now, like wine, because I've got that inital flash down, and a clear-eyed strategy is exactly what's needed to clean it up, and make it work.
Sadly, now that I'm back, I'm leaving again. I'm going on a vacation of sorts, back to the beach, which is currently under thrall of a howling nor'easter, while I'm living in that best part of summer; the last few days of pure sunshine, almost cool air, and freshness.
I'm really excited about going home.
Recently, certain parts of my life have been fast, and others, slow. Life always tends to intrude on my better times with a little dose of harsh reality every now and then, so while things are definitely pretty good, there's always those things that are a little less good...or just downright bleh.
I've spent so much more time focusing on other aspects of my life right now that my computer has basically been abandoned for a few months. I probably get on it once every 5 days or so, as opposed to 5 times every day. I feel a lot better about that, but it makes me a little sad to because I miss being able to just write it as it comes to me, during the day (or night). But even though I have to put it off now until I get to my designated time to write, I think it's better like this. Less focus on the whole wide (& mostly unimportant, and unrelated to anything I'll ever be a part of) world the internet opens for me, more focus on the reality of my day-to-day life.
Even though I'm writing less here, I'm writing more "there", in my life. And that's great, because there is something so cathartic about writing longhand, to me at least. A good ball point pen, and some blank papers and I'm off, free-falling into whatever universe I want.
Lately I've been getting to the "wine" of the story. The part where the exciting newness has worn off, and reality has more or less settled into it. Now it's work. But it's better now, like wine, because I've got that inital flash down, and a clear-eyed strategy is exactly what's needed to clean it up, and make it work.
Sadly, now that I'm back, I'm leaving again. I'm going on a vacation of sorts, back to the beach, which is currently under thrall of a howling nor'easter, while I'm living in that best part of summer; the last few days of pure sunshine, almost cool air, and freshness.
I'm really excited about going home.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
I ♥ NPR
I can't believe how fast the time has passed since I last wrote here! I've been planning everything around the week-long vacation I'll be leaving for in 3 days, and my work and personal lives have been busy!
I've spent a lot of time listening to NPR, largely because of two things: 1.) The CD player in the truck is possibly possessed, and therefore completely unreliable and mostly unusable, and 2.) There aren't a large variety of radio stations available that suit my...eclectic music tastes. While I can pick up about 15 different stations, they all revolve around the same 4 genres: rap, country, talk/religion/Braves games commentaries, and Spanish. No joke, there's at least 4 different Spanish radio stations I pick up. While I do enjoy a little of all of those genres occasionally, it just doesn't suit my day-to-day listening needs. So I started listening to NPR, and got completely sucked into this whole other side of story telling.
For those of you who are unaware, NPR is National Public Radio. And while they do have a lot of interviews with different people, they also play a TON of classical music and opera. I understand that neither of those appeals to the general masses, but let me tell you...I LOVE IT!
I've always loved classical music; it's been a constant part of my life, starting with the movie Fantasia, a childhood obsession of mine, to someone always playing on the piano at my granparents house, to the couple years I spent playing the violin.
Now that I'm concsiously thinking about it, I think I could probably blame, or thank, Fantasia for my current state of semi-maddness when it comes to classical music. Seeing the stories told without words gave me the palette to draw from I guess. Because any time I hear classical music, a story forms in my head. It doesn't matter that I don't know anything about the actual story the composer had in mind; that the beauty of it - IT DOESN'T MATTER!
I love the fact that the music is so strong that it tells it's own story. And believe me, strong is the right word. I've actually missed my turn after work because I get so wrapped up in the story in my head, whether it be a mad horseback chase through the forrest at midnight, rain pouring down, flickers of incandescent lightening showing you brief glimpses of the hunter chasing you, or if it's that first moment when he sees her, and the crowd disappears around them, until it's just him watching her, and her wrapped up in her own little world, unaware of anything but the music and the way her body moves as she dances...when she finally looks up, she sees him and something happens between them, across a dark room full of other people...each recognizes the shock, and as he takes a step towards her, and she unthinkingly takes one towards him, a big man with a scar on his face appears at her elbow and wrenches her out through a side door - her boyfriend. The man is frozen in place by the monumental shift in his life when he saw her, and before he could take more than one step, she's gone, taken...by a man he now recognizes as the leader of a street gang he believes is responsible for the death of his father at a gas station hold up years ago, never proven, but always believed none-the-less. First his father and now this girl, this girl he doesn't know but is suddenly aware that he'd lay his life on the line for her, taken from him by some street thug? No. Never. As he turns away, his brain is already planning, already discarding and sifting through different courses of action...because he's going to end it, once and for all.
Um, yeah.
That last one is the one I saw in my head last night when I was listening to a Japanese piece I'd never heard before. As you can see, I get pretty wrapped up in it, hence missing the turn to my house.
But it's just so amazing to me that music, unseen, only heard, can produce these amazing movies in my head, ever crescendo and pause telling me the next thing that happens, each poignant violin solo proclaiming it's love or death or tears or joy...seriously awesome.
After so much mad ramblings, I have to get back to reality, because I have a feeling while I was lost in my action/romance flick my son has probably gotten into something he's not supposed to...it's reeeeeaaaaally quiet out there.....
So until I get back from vacation (yay!), if you get bored, check out 89.5 fm, and see what kind of stories you see. :)
I've spent a lot of time listening to NPR, largely because of two things: 1.) The CD player in the truck is possibly possessed, and therefore completely unreliable and mostly unusable, and 2.) There aren't a large variety of radio stations available that suit my...eclectic music tastes. While I can pick up about 15 different stations, they all revolve around the same 4 genres: rap, country, talk/religion/Braves games commentaries, and Spanish. No joke, there's at least 4 different Spanish radio stations I pick up. While I do enjoy a little of all of those genres occasionally, it just doesn't suit my day-to-day listening needs. So I started listening to NPR, and got completely sucked into this whole other side of story telling.
For those of you who are unaware, NPR is National Public Radio. And while they do have a lot of interviews with different people, they also play a TON of classical music and opera. I understand that neither of those appeals to the general masses, but let me tell you...I LOVE IT!
I've always loved classical music; it's been a constant part of my life, starting with the movie Fantasia, a childhood obsession of mine, to someone always playing on the piano at my granparents house, to the couple years I spent playing the violin.
Now that I'm concsiously thinking about it, I think I could probably blame, or thank, Fantasia for my current state of semi-maddness when it comes to classical music. Seeing the stories told without words gave me the palette to draw from I guess. Because any time I hear classical music, a story forms in my head. It doesn't matter that I don't know anything about the actual story the composer had in mind; that the beauty of it - IT DOESN'T MATTER!
I love the fact that the music is so strong that it tells it's own story. And believe me, strong is the right word. I've actually missed my turn after work because I get so wrapped up in the story in my head, whether it be a mad horseback chase through the forrest at midnight, rain pouring down, flickers of incandescent lightening showing you brief glimpses of the hunter chasing you, or if it's that first moment when he sees her, and the crowd disappears around them, until it's just him watching her, and her wrapped up in her own little world, unaware of anything but the music and the way her body moves as she dances...when she finally looks up, she sees him and something happens between them, across a dark room full of other people...each recognizes the shock, and as he takes a step towards her, and she unthinkingly takes one towards him, a big man with a scar on his face appears at her elbow and wrenches her out through a side door - her boyfriend. The man is frozen in place by the monumental shift in his life when he saw her, and before he could take more than one step, she's gone, taken...by a man he now recognizes as the leader of a street gang he believes is responsible for the death of his father at a gas station hold up years ago, never proven, but always believed none-the-less. First his father and now this girl, this girl he doesn't know but is suddenly aware that he'd lay his life on the line for her, taken from him by some street thug? No. Never. As he turns away, his brain is already planning, already discarding and sifting through different courses of action...because he's going to end it, once and for all.
Um, yeah.
That last one is the one I saw in my head last night when I was listening to a Japanese piece I'd never heard before. As you can see, I get pretty wrapped up in it, hence missing the turn to my house.
But it's just so amazing to me that music, unseen, only heard, can produce these amazing movies in my head, ever crescendo and pause telling me the next thing that happens, each poignant violin solo proclaiming it's love or death or tears or joy...seriously awesome.
After so much mad ramblings, I have to get back to reality, because I have a feeling while I was lost in my action/romance flick my son has probably gotten into something he's not supposed to...it's reeeeeaaaaally quiet out there.....
So until I get back from vacation (yay!), if you get bored, check out 89.5 fm, and see what kind of stories you see. :)
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Smoke, Rain, & a Crown Vic with Peeling Paint
I'm still amazed at how wrapped up I can get when I'm writing. And at how limitless writing a story can be.
As I was writing a few days ago, I noticed both these things. My character has a brief encounter with someone who has a much bigger effect than they realize; in telling one story, I have to tell another.
And after I stared writing the person who is just "passing through", I wanted to just jot down a few things about her story, who she is, how she came to be that way. Twenty minutes later, I realized that I had forgotten about dinner, (burnt), my kids, (covered in milk from purposely spraying each other with it), and the fact that I was just writing a basic outline for a minor character. Her story just wrapped my up and spirited me away. There I was, sitting next to her in an old, second-hand Crown Victoria, smelling that old car smell, watching the rain hit the glass, the road ahead of us...I could smell her cheap ciggarette, which she chain smokes, and see the bug bites on her skinny knees. I noticed the way she constantly kept shifting her eyes to the rear-view mirror, like she was worried someone was following us; even though the idea was ludacris, I began to look at the rear-view more than was neccessary.
I became so wrapped up in her story that I forgot MY story...the one I was writing, until she came along and took over things in her quiet, intense way. Which is actually fitting, considering who she is: a quiet, intense, occasionally scary person, full of holes that once were full of sun and life, holes she tries to fill with too many ciggarettes, and a jaded outlook that somehow doesn't seem to fit her young face and her skinny knees.
Once again, dinner and my children are waiting, but now I'm itching to get back to where we left off....a lonely highway, a sky like old parchment, niether sunny nor cloudy, simply greyish-white and blindingly bright...the rain keeps falling, and the tempo of the windsheild wipers matches the tempo of her tapping foot....most of the smoke pouring out of a crack in her window, but enough of it staying in the old car to make it a little hazy, a little unreal seeming...and her story, spoken in her harsh voice, her old eyes staring out of her young face, making and being unmade at the same time...
As I was writing a few days ago, I noticed both these things. My character has a brief encounter with someone who has a much bigger effect than they realize; in telling one story, I have to tell another.
And after I stared writing the person who is just "passing through", I wanted to just jot down a few things about her story, who she is, how she came to be that way. Twenty minutes later, I realized that I had forgotten about dinner, (burnt), my kids, (covered in milk from purposely spraying each other with it), and the fact that I was just writing a basic outline for a minor character. Her story just wrapped my up and spirited me away. There I was, sitting next to her in an old, second-hand Crown Victoria, smelling that old car smell, watching the rain hit the glass, the road ahead of us...I could smell her cheap ciggarette, which she chain smokes, and see the bug bites on her skinny knees. I noticed the way she constantly kept shifting her eyes to the rear-view mirror, like she was worried someone was following us; even though the idea was ludacris, I began to look at the rear-view more than was neccessary.
I became so wrapped up in her story that I forgot MY story...the one I was writing, until she came along and took over things in her quiet, intense way. Which is actually fitting, considering who she is: a quiet, intense, occasionally scary person, full of holes that once were full of sun and life, holes she tries to fill with too many ciggarettes, and a jaded outlook that somehow doesn't seem to fit her young face and her skinny knees.
Once again, dinner and my children are waiting, but now I'm itching to get back to where we left off....a lonely highway, a sky like old parchment, niether sunny nor cloudy, simply greyish-white and blindingly bright...the rain keeps falling, and the tempo of the windsheild wipers matches the tempo of her tapping foot....most of the smoke pouring out of a crack in her window, but enough of it staying in the old car to make it a little hazy, a little unreal seeming...and her story, spoken in her harsh voice, her old eyes staring out of her young face, making and being unmade at the same time...
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Semi-Charmed Kind of (Social) Life
I can't believe how long it's been since my last post! Again, I'm sorry for being completely random and irregular in my postings, but in actuality, this is a good thing.
The reason for my occasional only posts is because I kind of have a semi-social life. While I've restrained myself from typing that line in all caps, and possible making the font larger, and making the whole thing bold, I'm still very excited about this.
Some mysterious force in the universe set me down in the one job in the whole county with the two people I would most easily become friends with, and I've taken full advantage of that fact. So now, instead of waiting 3 months for a night out, I've had a few already this month. Granted, I do get to count Mom's Day, and my birthday, but still...
And last night, I even had a game night, and invited people over to my house. Incredible, I know.
Anyways, to get back to the root of what I was saying before I drifted off on a tangent, as I so often do, I HAVE actually been writing also. I just haven't been writing about writing here. But things are going well, and I've been expanding on one of my ideas. The growth of those idea's never ceases to amaze me.
It starts with the littlest thing, one line in my thoughts maybe. And then things just build and build on that one little thing, and there's suddenly the groundwork for a novel. Freakin' amazing.
But I must leave you with that, fine readers, because my kids are asleep and I don't want to use all my time writing here, when I have to write there.
:)
The reason for my occasional only posts is because I kind of have a semi-social life. While I've restrained myself from typing that line in all caps, and possible making the font larger, and making the whole thing bold, I'm still very excited about this.
Some mysterious force in the universe set me down in the one job in the whole county with the two people I would most easily become friends with, and I've taken full advantage of that fact. So now, instead of waiting 3 months for a night out, I've had a few already this month. Granted, I do get to count Mom's Day, and my birthday, but still...
And last night, I even had a game night, and invited people over to my house. Incredible, I know.
Anyways, to get back to the root of what I was saying before I drifted off on a tangent, as I so often do, I HAVE actually been writing also. I just haven't been writing about writing here. But things are going well, and I've been expanding on one of my ideas. The growth of those idea's never ceases to amaze me.
It starts with the littlest thing, one line in my thoughts maybe. And then things just build and build on that one little thing, and there's suddenly the groundwork for a novel. Freakin' amazing.
But I must leave you with that, fine readers, because my kids are asleep and I don't want to use all my time writing here, when I have to write there.
:)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
