Why Do You Write?

Day 10

Day 10

Day 10 of the My 500 Words Challenge! Write about writing. What do you love about the craft? What do you hate? What are you struggling with, when it comes to this challenge?

If you read my post from Day 5, Cow Pasture Chronicles, My Oasis, you already know when I began putting pen to paper. As a young it was more about finding my voice in a crowed and loud home. When you’re surrounded by so many others, a listening  and understanding ear is hard to find. Writing became an escape and gave me the satisfaction that someone was listening, even if they were the four-legged kind.

When I began college, an English Professor, Nancy Moore thought my writing was exceptional and encouraged me to major in English. Of course with her high praise, she became a favorite of mine. I’m amazed I remember her name. An English major lasted a year before I changed it to Nursing, but my love of writing and words continued to grow. My mother planted that seed a long time ago with her love of books; reading was a family affair.

Which brings me to why I love the craft. It’s the stories, plain and simple. To me there is nothing so intriguing and exciting as a story which transports you to the page. Or, as I did the other day at the gym, exclaim out loud, “OMG.” In case you’re curious,  I’m reading  Stephen King’s, A Good Marriage. It’s the stories of our lives, the people, places, things, and events we experience along the way that give us our stories.  Writing, like no other craft, sets the imagination free with no boundaries. Okay, maybe a few.

Which brings me to what I hate about the craft. Rules and competition top my list. The rules of grammar are stifling sometimes. I know, many of you will throw your hands to your chest in shock, “You must follow the rules. By the way, watch out for weak words and passive sentences. Show, don’t tell. Make your opening sentence, paragraph dynamite. Check pacing and sentence length, and without conflict and rising stakes, and without the proper structure, it won’t work.

Now, before y’all (southern slang) started scolding me in print, let me say, “I understand the need for rules, some of them, but when your focus becomes micromanaging every sentence, you lose the ability to let the story flow. Instead, it can feel like labor, a long,  arduous labor.

I’ve always believed competition  a good thing; regardless of the enterprise or the craft. But, with a zillion people on the internet and probably as many blogs, being heard becomes a game of chance as much as skill. A chance that a blog post will go viral, the right person with the right connections likes what she read and passes you on to others. Contests are a whole other type of competition. With thousands of entries, getting your story to stand out, becomes like a needle in a haystack. Yeah, yeah, I hear you – “If the story is good enough, it’ll stand out. Maybe, hopefully, or perhaps, the screening reader doesn’t like your genre, or plot line. Not that it wasn’t well written, but that kind of story ain’t her cup of tea.” Submitting work is challenging,  time-consuming, and the rewards, few and far between.

What am I struggling with, related to this challenge? Time, plain and simple. I’m somewhat of a perfectionist and I didn’t like missing Day 8, but the one thing I’ve learned  since I began writing (and it’s difficult), is to recognize when I need a break, to stop pushing, and take time to relax, and let my mind wander the fields of words and imagination.

Thanks Jeff, for the challenge and todays prompt.

Tell me what you think. Tell me your story. I’d love to hear from you. And as always, you can follow me on Facebook at SheilaMGood and  Twitter @cofcmom.

The Downward Trajectory of Life- How Not to Feel Irrelevant

Thanks Jeff for the prompt. This free-writing exercise for day 7 of my500words,  brought out a bit of melancholy.

Photo courtesy of Google & feministcurrent.com

I wished someone had told me, five, ten, or twenty years ago how hard things get when you begin the downward trajectory of life. I will turn 62 in November and in terms of the average life span in the US, 62 is still young.

However, no one prepared me for becoming irrelevant. What I mean is, as we approach this time in our lives, our children are adults, many into mid-life and the grandchildren seem to be maturing faster than the weeds in my garden.

The children you once spoke to daily or weekly are now caught up in their own immediate families. Their schedules packed running one child to dance, the other to sports practice.

While they used to run situations or decisions by you, they no longer need to, having gained a fair amount of life experiences themselves. Now, they are the parent comforting, or giving out advice to a child. Problems once seemed only insurmountable if discussed with mom are now handled with a mature and steady mind.

As a parent, on the one hand, I’m thrilled they can do it themselves. After all, that’s what all the years of parenting were for, making them independent, strong individuals capable of dealing with the ups and downs of life. On the other hand, I miss being needed.

It’s not as if they don’t want my advice (Ok, maybe sometimes), but they don’t need it. I’ve done my job. All that’s left is to sit back and relax. If only it was that easy.

Day 7

Day 7

Growing old can be very lonely. So, here are a few things I wished I’d known and even though, no one is asking, a little advice. Take it or leave it, but I hope you will at least consider it for the times ahead.

  1. Cultivate a hobby, something you enjoy early on. It will keep your hands and mind busy when the days become longer.
  2. Cultivate friends, many of them, paying special attention to those most loyal.
  3. “Do for others as you would have them do unto you.” It isn’t just a Bible verse; it is a way of life and when honored will reap many rewards.
  4. Be kind, but genuine. In this hectic world where everyone seems to wear their feelings on their sleeves, it is often difficult to stay the course when the road of values divide.
  5. Learn to disagree, agreeably – silence and acquiescence will smother you as quickly as a soft pillow pressed upon your face. There is nothing worse than a disagreeable old person.
  6. Give more than you take in relationships, time, and money. The benefits far out weigh dividends.
  7. Learn to listen. Sometimes, all anyone needs is an ear.
  8. Stay informed don’t lose your voice, it matters.
  9. Stay active and honor your body. The years ahead will present challenges and the better prepared your body is; the better you will weather the storm.
  10. Remember your father and mother. Check on them, call them, and ask the questions you want to ask now. There will come a time, when the answers are lost.

As a nurse, I understood the cycle of life. Much like the 3 act structure in a novel, we are born, live, and die. The second act is where all the exciting things happen. The third act of life brings resolution. Make it exciting all the way to end and have no regrets.

Maggie’s New Beginning

FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE: THE DEAD BODY (Dead bodies: they do a story good.)

Maggie’s New Beginning

“I’ll be God damned.” Maggie’s head fell against the pillow; her chest burned from the effort of pounding her fists on the sweaty mass pinning her in place. “Dammit, dammit, dammit.” She’d heard of dead weight, but this was ridiculous. What the hell was she thinking bedding his fat ass? Thanks to him, her dream of wallowing in a bed full of money had disappeared with a grunt and a snort. She squirmed underneath the weight of his bulk and struggled to breathe as the cold stones dug into her neck.

His arm fell off the side of the bed giving her a glance of the room and a teasing chance to breathe. She maneuvered a leg free, dug her heel into the side of the mattress, and pulled. The muscles in her calf screamed as she tucked her head under his flaccid arm, clawing for the edge of the bed until her whole body shook. The pungent odor of his armpit struck her across the face like a brick and she fell back gasping for air. “Jesus Fred, ever heard of deodorant? “

*

He handed the maid a wad of bills when they arrived and told her to take the rest of the week off with her family. Juanita would be in for a hell of a surprise come Monday. Everybody would gawk and whisper. Anger turned to horror as Maggie realized she’d be the subject of jeers, rumors, and half-truths. How the hell did she end up here?

*

Fred came into the jewelry store, where she worked, looking for an anniversary gift for his wife. Maggie noticed the Armani suit and Rolex watch and nudged her co-worker out of the way, “I’ll take this one, “she said, giving him her most winning smile. Round and soft, he looked like just the ticket to offer her a way out, way up and a new beginning. An hour later, he walked out of the store with a $10,000 diamond necklace for his wife and a hankering for her.

At the time, Maggie didn’t worry about the wife or what Armani was hiding. All she saw were dollar signs and a new future. She played hard reeling him in like a flopping fish on a taut line. Her commission check grew with each visit and she wondered if the shower of glittering gifts surprised his wife, Nicole. He’d dropped her name on his third trip to the store. It had taken two months before Maggie discovered Fred gave his wife and a friend a trip to Europe for their anniversary and saved the jewels for her.

*

Last night, when Fred slipped the necklace around her neck, she lost all reason. “You’ll get the others later,” he said, nibbling her ear. She let his hands roam. As her dress slipped to the floor, she closed her eyes and imagined the body pressing into hers belonged to Brad Pitt. Visions of fur coats, diamonds, and exotic trips filled her mind. Ribboned boxes taunted her from across the room, where they sat unopened on his wife’s dressing table. Her mom always said, “You can do anything for a short time if the payoff’s worth it.”

It became Maggie’s motto. But, when he crawled on top of her with his fat, soft body, sweating like a pig, she almost balked. Instead, she fantasized about Brad, the Caribbean Islands and waited for it to be over. She figured it wouldn’t take long and it didn’t. The loud grunt, and stiffing of his body brought her back to reality. A swoosh of alcohol-laced breath escaped from him like air from a balloon and he collapsed pinning her to the bed. A deadly silence descended. Maggie waited for him to say something or move. “Fred?” She lay still and listened. “Fred?” Easing her hand to the side of his neck, she felt for a pulse. “God dammit, Fred!”

She pushed, punched, and cursed to no avail. The sweat from their naked bodies turned to super glue and slowly, the realization of her fate dawned on Maggie. She wasn’t going anywhere. By the time the maid found them, she’d be nothing more than an afterthought, a greasy spot underneath some rich, hairy ass, cheating bastard.

Not exactly, the new beginning she had in mind.

Day 1

Sleep is Overrated

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My crashing point came on the fourth day without sleep. Three to four days is typical for me before the body overrides the mind and says, enough. Then, all I want is to close my eyes and sleep forever. I’d settle for 8 hours..

My eyelids heavy, I snuggled under the covers. It took a moment for his touch to register. “Please let me sleep.”

His hand moved softly down my skin as his kisses trailed my neck and shoulder. His face replaced the fog of sleep and I turned to him.

Who needs it, sleep’s overrated anyway.

Written in response to :  Julia’s Place 100 Word Challenge For Grownups – #154…  please let me sleep…