Sometimes the perfect dress is like armor you put on to face a day filled with uncertainty… a small help when you want to hide as you walk through the inevitable surprises that might just slap your face, leaving you stunned.
Maybe you had a whole map for us, made of that blue ink—
and mothering feels like bleeding,
blue drips from the detours we took around your beautifully planned masterpiece.
As I worked on this big moon I felt it was the one thing within my control, and my contribution to creating meaning and beauty in a world that often feels as if it is wobbling off course.
When it was our turn to dance as parents I could hardly remember how to move my feet, but then John reminded me of the steps. He whispered quick, quick, slow, slow… I was a little numb at the time, but his words, simple as they were, made it to my feet, coaxing them into a rhythm.
Dear Mother,
I should’ve cleaned your fingernails before you died. I know dirty fingernails never bothered you, but in that last photo I took of you where your hands wrap around the ceramic mug of fresh coffee I brought with real cream, instead of the styrofoam cup of instant with powder packets you’d been getting—-in that picture the gleam is back in your eyes, feisty again, but a dark, dirty rim lines each fingernail. I regret not offering to clean your nails, but at the time it didn’t occur to me. You had lots of life left in you. You could’ve cleaned your own fingernails….
Writing and remembering is about coming out from under the shadows into the joy of living and loving beyond the grave. I love this uncle I never knew.
Have you noticed how accomplishing one task brings a high, and then a lull? You actually did something and now what? Take a break or launch yourself into the next task before losing momentum? If I’m not mindful, I find the transition between tasks is where I get distracted and lose my way. This week I tackled the List of Missing Scenes (from Book Finish Bootcamp https://www.resilientwriters.com/blog_page). Here’s how it went: I printed my list of missing scenes, along with some bits and pieces, some backstory and memories culled from my “sandbox”.* I plan to weave these elements into the already existing fabric of the story to strengthen the thematic through-line, which I keep close at hand. Then I jumped in, giving myself permission to just write, however incomplete the scenes might be. My little lizard brain editor sits on my shoulder shaking her head, saying things like, You’ve got…
As a Mother’s Day gift a few years ago our middle son, Scott, asked if I’d like to take a writing weekend away with him. He’s a radio journalist in Seattle. Of course, I loved the idea, but somewhere between ideas and schedules, the details were difficult to work out, until now. We planned to go to Deer Harbor in the San Juan Islands, but first he’d come down here (near Portland) and speak to Arielle’s journalism class. He did this last year on his birthday and now it was the day after his sister’s 17th birthday. By the time I worked out the details, and thought of all the time and energy we’d spend traveling, I felt tired and a bit guilty– taking him away from his sister and father. Everyone always wants time with Scott. I felt like I should share… The solution: A DIY retreat at our…
Torschlusspanik (German)- the anxious, claustrophobic feeling that opportunities and options are shutting down; you have missed the boat, you have to get a grip, you are getting too old. (Untranslatable Words -writer prompts) If you’ve been in Writer’s Flow Studio for any length of time, or even if you were a newcomer with high hopes, you may be feeling a bit of torschlusspanik as we move toward Sept. 30. Several of us have discussed where we’ll go from here. I’ve been in Writer’s Flow since the beginning, over 5 years ago. It’s been highly worthwhile. I confess I am just now, even this week, putting some of the principles of focused writing to work. But where do we go from here? I’ll continue to employ the lessons from this journey with Rhonda in my writing life ahead on my blog. I want to take a quick moment to encourage you,…
“…It almost killed me.” -Harry Crews, author of A Childhood: The Biography of a Place Both shocking and understandable if you write memoir, right? Have you ever felt gutted when writing your stories? The natural reaction to pain is avoidance. Quite often we flinch and move away from that hot center of a story, afraid we’ll get burned or at least singed by it. But that red hot spot is where the heart of story lies. I’ve taken a break from the red hot center that memoir is, but recently I got back on the horse, to severely mangle some metaphors… though I like this image now of riding a flaming Arabian for all I’m worth. I will not go down in flames. I will rise from the ashes. These are the affirmations I think of as I free flow write… on this hobby horse… Free flow write with me.…