Have you missed me? I know I've been rather quiet in these parts for some weeks now. Fear not, as the title says, I am alive and well and still writing. Some of you may know that my family and I were looking for a new home; I'm happy to report that the gap between blog posts is a result of having found one and doing all of the hard work of preparing and executing the big move out of the city and to the suburbs. We completely filled a 24 foot moving truck and then some, are still living out of boxes, and have a kitchen to remodel. For my AV friends there might be an adventure or two in home automation once things settle down. And for the rest of you? Well, my commute did just get a bit longer, so there just might be some more writing time.
Writing time is the theme that brings me back to these pages - specifically, an invitation from an old friend to participate in the "My Writing Process Blog Tour" (I'll bet you guessed that from the title). This is a chance for those of us who write to talk about what we're writing, why we're writing it and, of course, how we write. I'd be remiss without starting with link-back to the friend who invited me, Mary Ellen Sanger. We met years ago in one of the first critique groups I'd ever joined. It was the group in which both Sanger's collection Blackbirds in the Pomegranate Tree and Talia Carner's novel Jerusalem Maiden were workshopped. Both are highly recommended, and not just because of my connection with their authors.
Q1: What are you working on now?
Good question. What, aside from the blog, have I been up to as of late? There are a few longer pieces with which I've been tinkering, but as of late my heart is really in flash fiction and poetry. There is not, at present, a big project. If there is, the big project is continuing to unpack. That said, there are some directions I've been thinking about as of late. One is flash-fiction. I'm a big fan of very short stories which use language mindfully to focus on a single, pivotal scene. The moment when things change, the moment when you see things differently, or just something that makes you stop and think.
Another direction I've been looking at is poetry. I've been reading a bit more of it as of late and have had some fun playing with a quick sketch or two. One neat source of inspiration I found was the How Writers Write Poetry MOOC from the creative writing program at the University of Iowa. Following is one of my exercises from an early week in this course:
Someone made little comedy/tragedy masks out of the O's in the railroad station sign. This amuses me. |
First, a two-line sketch:
Stylus on phone, what does she write?
Private thoughts in the quiet car.
Private thoughts in the quiet car.
Then the same, with added detail and metaphor:
On silvergrey patched blue vinyl seat
she lights, glowing rectangle flat on
her lap, redpainted nails dance as fingers
clutching the stylus make tiny gyrations, as if
self-ministering and old-time cure for madness.
Write and erase, write
and erase, write
and erase
write and
a tiny tremor of joy ripples
through her whole body.
I look away from the upturned
corner of her lips, leaving her
alone
in the afterglow.
she lights, glowing rectangle flat on
her lap, redpainted nails dance as fingers
clutching the stylus make tiny gyrations, as if
self-ministering and old-time cure for madness.
Write and erase, write
and erase, write
and erase
write and
a tiny tremor of joy ripples
through her whole body.
I look away from the upturned
corner of her lips, leaving her
alone
in the afterglow.
And... that's it. No secrets, no mysteries. Writing this makes me realize that I miss the sensual feel of a nice pen in my hands; perhaps the next project will be a return to long-hand. If so, I'll be sure to share it here with you.