Tag Archives: story

What’s In A Name…

Early fall color along hiking trail in the Ice...

Early fall color along hiking trail in the Ice Lake Basin. Fuller Peak and Golden Horn can be seen in the far background. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The somewhat overused phrase…but with good reason.

Well, I finally did it. I found the name. Granted, it’s not on my current novel. But it is on one I will be discovering shortly thereafter. And it’s been plaguing me that I did not know the name. It poked and prodded and teased. Merciless. But I finally ‘bested the beast’.

The name is vital. Vital to the entirety of the book. It is involved in the title, involved in the essence of the protagonist, involved in the other characters’ perception of the protagonist. It felt so incomplete to only have part of the title. If I had not had any of it, it would have been better than some and not all.

This afternoon I found myself with the inclination to wander in its direction again. I started following the usual trails, trying to find the rabbit trail off the main path. I followed several through the dictionaries and origins and variations. Nothing. Some would come close in essence but not the correct sound or immediate reaction. But one came so close. I could feel the victory standing on the opposite cliff. All I had to do was find a way across that opening of nothingness between us. I followed the main path to a rabbit trail and then to a hunch that led to another hunch. I knew the correct name was buried just a little deeper, so I tweaked and twisted until ‘Voila!’ it was staring back at me.

Sigh. Happiness. It is finished. The title is complete, the essence is named. I can continue with my current work without the incessant interruptions of an incomplete task.

The ridiculous thing is: I have set my mind to the task periodically for more than a year now. But, no matter, it is complete at last. That story can rest peacefully (semi-peacefully, it still calls to me sometimes) until its turn comes.

Ciao

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What Do You See?

English: Drawing of a falling/floating man

English: Drawing of a falling/floating man (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She placed the picture in front of me, flat on the table between us. “What do you see?” she said. It sounded comparable to a challenge.

I touched a fingertip to the picture, pulling it a notch closer. “Someone falling.”

She placed another picture over the first. “What do you see?”

“They’re falling to the left this time. It’s the same person.”

“How do you know?”

I looked at her.

She gestured to the picture. “It’s a nondescript drawing. How do you know it’s the same person?”

“The features are proportional to one another and the hat is exactly the same. It’s a logical deduction.”

She nodded, and then placed another picture on the stack. “What do you see?”

“They’re falling backwards now. Looks like someone hit them.”

“And what about this one?”

“They fell. Again. Of course. I get it. They fall a lot.” I started to stand. “Can we—”

“How do you know it’s not the same time?”

My back smacked against the chair, but I was too exasperated to wince. Much. “They could not’ve landed that way from any of the previous falls. It’s obvious. Wh–” I leaned forward, palm flattening on the cold wood. “What do you see?”

“I see someone who keeps getting back up.” She paused, looking at me. “As you said, they had to be from separate falls. How can you fall again if you didn’t get back up?”

“The last one…they’re on the ground. How do you know they got back up?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well, every time they fall must be a stronger reason to stay there.”

“No, no.” She emphasized with a slow but purposed shake of her head. “Every fall would be another reason to get back up. They can’t let it win now. They wouldn’t concede defeat when they’ve already come this far. That would be a slight to their previous attempts. No. ” She shook her head again. “They would not give up.”

I sat back, lips pursed.

She took a moment before speaking again, this time with a tone reminiscent of trying to cross a river barefoot on wet stones. “I…don’t think you should give up either.”

I sighed, rubbing my fingers over an eyebrow. “I knew you would try something like this.”

She smiled.

 

How many times one falls is not a sign of weakness — it is a testament to how many times one has risen.

What do you see?

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Story Pregnancy

BabyShowerSoap

A week after the last addition (on the 7th of September), what happens? Well, I’m pregnant again. 🙂 (Any relatives reading this, please don’t freak out!)

Story pregnancy. Nothing more. 🙂

Saturday morning I woke up and decided to lounge in bed for a couple minutes. But it was not to be. A voice started speaking to me. An interesting character with an interesting threat. I found myself listening for some time. But eventually I had to face reality.

A family breakfast awaited at Bob Evans, a farewell to a beloved visitor (she’s going to read this later, so I had to say that…. 😉 Not really). 🙂 I took my notebook and jotted notes as I waited for the rest of the family.

I am most intrigued by this character and this premise. An unexpected gift. I have mini-maps for three short stories from it, and, hopefully, you will be seeing one in the near future – for sale on Kindle, Nook, et cetera. 🙂 All whilst I continue the writing of my novel.

Here’s hoping.

Ciao

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What a Character

Photograph of a Polish boy

Photograph of a Polish boy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There’s the cutest little boy at the preschool. He has a serious face, puckered lips, and curly brown hair in a man-cut. He is circa two years old and not quite two feet tall. But a fierce-some little bundle he is.

Every time, I see him either telling someone something extremely important or reprimanding them. Always in his gibberish, which sounds something like “oo joo juh joo too…” said through a tiny O between his puckered lips. The entire time he speaks, he is shaking and pointing his finger at them in a serious, no-nonsense manner, brows lowered.

Well, yesterday, on his way out, he stopped in the office as his mother talked with a friend. I had a perfect view. He stood just inside the door, talking fierce, and shaking his finger at his former teacher’s back as she clocked out. She was talking, but he continued to speak, even fiercer than before.

Finally, she turned around – still talking – and she had a cell phone to her ear. He paused and stared for a half second. Then he slapped his hand to his forehead, and just leaned there, covering one eye. The troubles he must bear. He just tries and tries, and this is what he gets.

The teacher had just concluded her call as he turned to leave, head down and shaking back and forth, and speaking gibberish to himself about his trials of life. She realized he had been speaking to her and called after him. “Goodbye, Sam. I’m sorry.” But he just sighed and lead his mother out the front door, still shaking his head. She gave a little laugh as she waved to his back.

What a character. I wish I had written him. It is so much fun to watch him giving instructions or lecturing. He is always talking. What will he be when he grows up? Lawyer? Professor? I predict something involving talking, at the least. 🙂 Children are so funny.

Ciao

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Filed under Humorous, Writing

Conception Addition

Gun Barrel Proof House, Banbury Street, Digbet...

Gun Barrel Proof House, Banbury Street, Digbeth (Photo credit: ell brown)

A new story was conceived on the 7th of September. I have the premise, setting, two characters, and the title. Sometimes it happens this way. Other times, all I have is a generic premise to grow from (and, usually, the character that embodies the premise). 😉

True to my current Work, I noted the date for my Conception List and jotted down the info I had gathered, and I am going to leave it that way until I can focus on it. The idea intrigues me, so my mind keeps wandering to it. I love a puzzle. Unraveling the pieces, apparent and subtle, of a story is the best to be had, and my mind itches to solve it.

But I am training my mind’s eye on my current puzzle, and the occasional short puzzle, until it is completed. (Though I do not turn from Creative’s genius when it decides to share with me. I write it down, store it away, for its time of development.)

There are many gathered and waiting in my Conception List. And their time will come. I must stay true to my current work. I must see it through to completion. Fidelity.

Ciao

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Lupo, My Sweet Interruption

IMG_0794

I love his white eyeliner.

I lounged across the bed, ready to begin writing on my novel. I reached down and picked up my notebook, but the page with the pen stuck in it was not from my current work. Not the same story at all. It was from a short story I had been working on a few weeks back (which, not 15 minutes before, I was sure I would not write until after my novel had been written in. I planned on writing on a short story, a different one, later). I had picked up the wrong notebook. They’re both black, just one is four times thicker than the other, which I somehow missed in picking it up. I read the last couple lines I had written and was pulled in. Redirected by coincidence, or something else?

It wasn’t long before my little munchkin came to interrupt me for a ‘love routine’. He sprawled across my notebook, and looked up at me expectantly. So cute. And irresistible. And…he knows it. 😉

After his ‘loving’, he hopped onto his desk (yes, he has a desk too) and had a snack of Friskies. Then he left me to my writing.

But only for about five minutes. The bed depressed lightly at my feet. He was back. He walked alongside my body, slinking lower with each move. His eyes had that Liquid Love look, which I so enjoy. He slunk passed my laptop and leaned into the curve of my torso, his head a couple inches under my chin. I wrapped my arms around him and leaned my cheek on the top of his head. He was purring, his eyes closed. He was content to be in my arms. He did not even desire petting. He stayed that way for some time.

My munchkin. My Lupo Piccolo. My sweet interruption. 🙂

IMG_0826 (2)

(Update: He’s back again.) 😉

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Filed under Random, Writing

The Power of Words (and Donuts)

Donuts.

Donuts. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Stupid has this knack for falling asleep. She can fall asleep anywhere, doing anything, and she will eventually. It’s quite entertaining to hear her try to read while falling in and out of sleep: ‘It was the best…*slowly drooping*…of…times….*chin on chest*…it was…*coming back up*…the worst…*drooping*…of…*snore*…’

But sometimes, oftentimes, she gets herself in such a state of sleep, it is impossible to get her awake enough to form a coherent sentence, not to mention convincing her to make the move from chair to bed. She has been this way for years. It is getting neither better nor worse.

Being health-conscious as I am, I worry about her body not getting the proper rest propped up in a chair, neck bent down, chin on chest for hours. So I try to wake her, in vain. I try to motivate her. This is extremely difficult as she is in a deep sleep, and doesn’t want to move about in the cool air.

But one day I found a solution. We had purchased donuts earlier in the evening, and she had been anxious to eat them all evening but refused to eat them until I was ready to join her. (She’s sweet, pun intended.) So, casually, after trying to wake her for over an hour, I said, “Hey. You want donuts?”

Her chin raised a notch, a silly smile curved her lips, but her eyes remained closed. She nodded and gave a hum of pleasure. ‘Alright, let’s get our donuts,” I said. Her eyes were still closed, silly smile still in place. “Come on. You have to get yours while I’m getting mine.” Her eyes opened, and soon she joined me in the kitchen, ‘bright-eyed and bushy-tailed’ as she would say. 🙂

A few months later, I was in a similar situation with her. I had exhausted my patience. I walked into the kitchen, basically conceding defeat. But I thought of something. “I wonder,” I said, quiet and to myself, “would she get up for…donuts?” She had been sitting in the living room , chin on chest, as before, but at that magic word her head popped up. This time her eyes were immediately opened and she was sitting at attention. I was already laughing. “We have donuts?” she asked. “No.”

We’re talking major sweet-tooth here. 🙂 Amazingly, she did not return to sleep in the chair, even without actual donuts. The word had worked its magic once more.

In conclusion, words can be great motivators. They undoubtedly create an effect. On paper, screen, or floating on air. They can encourage and discourage. They can bring life and death. They can bring ideas, create worlds, and build emotions.

Use your words to help others today. Encourage someone. Motivate. (But be careful who you offer donuts…) 😉

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Filed under Stupid & Darlin', Writing