Spatter

The Starting Place

It's always good to start at the beginning...

Start at the beginning. Yes, but what is the beginning?  Where does the beginning begin?  I suppose it's wherever the heck you want it to...for all stories real and not.

I'm always fascinated by an author's choice for a beginning.  How did he/she come to decide  where to start the story?  When I read fiction, I become intrigued by this dilemma.

It seems to me that finding a beginning place with just the right words to hook in the reader has got to be a more difficult task than finding an ending.  The ending, by definition is the end.  It's got the story leading to it.  There might be several possible outcomes, but I suspect only a few that are plausible to choose from.  The beginning, on the other hand, can be anything and anywhere. 

So what was the tipping point to create the specific picture in the author's mind?  Why here and not there?  It gets to the very heart of writing.

Going Strong

The other day I made reference to "The Wizard Of Oz" theme that we, not someone else, are the wizards of our lives.  We often lose sight of this...if we ever realize it at all.  If we're lucky, a parent, a teacher, or a friend can help re-mind us. There are times, though, when we just have to get to it on our own.

Sometimes, we get to it through pain.

Years ago, I was in a relationship turned bad.  As it deteriorated, I did too.  I slipped  into someone who felt invisible, dependent, and worthless.  It wasn't until I sank to the bottom of my emotional pit...emptying completely out...that I found my way back.  When you get to that point, there isn't much to get in the way.

I can't recall my eureka moment, but I evidently had one because the poem below was written to mark it.  The power within me had been awakened and I wanted to declare it:

 

sometimes I feel you think of me
as three day old bread
or a bottle of soda left open;
but I'm not -
I'm alive and I'm kicking
and soft to the touch still.
I know I am,
and that's what feels the best.

For more Sunday Scribblings, click here.

How I Eat Oreos

 

for the record...

when I eat Oreos
I eat them whole. 
no twisting, no licking, no deciding what to eat first.
I want it all and I want it all at the same time...
chocolate and creme
hard and soft.

and...for the record...
when I eat them, I dunk them.
oh, not sopping wet...
but just enough to let the milk caress  its form
without destroying its texture. 
It's an art form to do it properly. 

but...for the record...
I don't eat them much at all.

No Time To Be Humble

I was in the middle of packing for my trip to San Francisco, when I get a tag from my friend Colleen to be part of a meme that was circulating - to note five strengths about yourself as a writer.  An intriguing thought to ponder, but I was preoccupied and put it aside.  Well, as I walked from closet to suitcase and back it kept rolling around in my mind.  Before I knew it, five things popped into mind.

1. My writing is physically fit.  There's no flab, just meat.
2. My writing is easy to remember. This makes it something you can carry with you and recall when the situation fits.
3. My writing is honest.
4. My writing is free from boundaries of style and form. It's lack of structure gives the reader permission to be imperfect too.
5. My writing has breathing room.  There's plenty of space for the reader to fill in his/her own blanks.

I posted this list in Colleen's comments, not understanding the "meme game".  This post is correcting my error.  In the interim, I've read the lists of other's and have realized something interesting.  My list didn't refer to ME directly, but rather, my writing.  Could this be subliminal timidity of doing exactly what the meme intended - to talk about one's strengths?  Hmmm. 

So , Beth , Susan , me , and  Leanne are any of you game to do this?  Click here to get another list to work off of - I don't think mine is too helpful.  If you do join in, then post a link to your list here, trackback me, and pass it on to four others.   

Art and Fear

We are all creators... and we're always creating.

I've started reading the book Art and Fear.  It came into my life on the recommendation of a friend who has made her living as an artist under the header of Blue Heron Pottery.  Her description of the book peaked my interest, but I had no idea just how much its words would resonate in me. 

My recent outburst of artistic expression with camera and "pen" has been stimulating and self-sustaining.  Yet, the self doubt that kept me from acting for so long keeps peeking out from behind the corners, trying to quiet me again.

It's the ego...wanting me to be critical toward my work instead of embracing it....wanting me to forget the compliments I've gotten and instead, dwell on what seems to be lacking...wanting me to crawl back into the box and be quiet....wanting to be left alone in its misery...wanting me to feed it.

I find I must consciously command its retreat to keep it at bay.  At this point, I find I must do it often. I'd like to think it'll be a bit like exercising... after a time, you ache less, and when you do, you get past it easier.

Until then though, I'll continue to call upon the poem Desiderata for assistance...and now too, this book.

P.S. If you want to have some arty fun, go to this site.