So It Is With Writing…

Aw spring, my favorite time of the year is finally here. Budding new birth is everywhere you look; people are taking inventory, spring cleaning, clearing out cobwebs, and the clutter of their lives.

As a girl, we started every Spring by opening the windows and letting fresh air blow through the house removing the winter’s stale air. Then, we moved down mama’s list, decluttering closets, washing windows until they sparkled. We whitewashed scuff marks off baseboards, mopped, waxed, and polished the hardwood floors until they shined.

It was an exhausting time for my sisters and me, one we always dreaded, until lying on our beds late at night we inhaled the smell of a freshly spring-cleaned house as the breeze stirred the sheer curtains and the sounds of crickets serenaded us to sleep. Some things are worth the hard work.

So it is with writing …

You outline a novel and fill in the plot or as some do, fly by the seat of your pants until you reach the end of the story and a satisfactory word count. Of course, I’m over simplifying, but you get my drift. When things need to be done, you do them and cross them off your list. Not unlike when I was young and checking off mama’s spring cleaning to-do-list.

Perhaps you’ve wondered why no one was minding the Cow Pasture. Suffice to say; I was hard at work. Not writing, but working on something much harder so I could get back to writing – my health. In 1983, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, Sjogren’s syndrome and others, but over the last five years, things had stabilized.

I thought I had this plot figured out, so to speak, but then what’s a good story without a twist, right? After many years of being manageable, the sleeping giant began attacking my central nervous system. Talk about a twist I wasn’t expecting, this was it. I didn’t know how to talk or write about what was happening, even in the Cow Pasture.

Over the last six months instead of working on my novel, blog or writing short stories, I’ve been outlining a plan to combat this disease and improve my outcome. I’m happy to say things are on track.

Some things are worth the hard work. 

I’m writing again, not using many outlines or sticking to a strict schedule, but writing when I can. Musing from the Cow Pasture Chronicles may include exerts from my novels, Hello HellCall Me Florence, a short story, flash fiction, writing topic, an opinion piece, or a chapter from my memoir. Who knows what I’ll share, I’m pretty much a panster these days.

Some things are meant to be enjoyed.

Related articles

Hello Friend

English: Canoe Beach sunset (Canoe, BC, Canada)

English: Canoe Beach sunset (Canoe, BC, Canada) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

FIVE SENTENCE FICTION – ORANGE

HELLO FRIEND

I sit curled up in my blanket on the beach chair, a cup of hot coffee warming my hands, the ocean’s music soothes my soul.

 The last time we were here, we chased umbrellas across the wind blown sand, and laughed until our sides ached.

 We spoke of our children, husbands, memories of old, and dreamed of things yet to live.

Amid the laughter,  we promised to grow old together, and make yearly trips to watch the sun rise and set, but God had other plans.

 I wait, listening as I do every year, to the ocean’s gentle waves, and watch as the sun begins to set, then a beautiful orange glow brightens the sky, just like clock work – “Hello friend.”

Is It Good if They Shudder???

I love writing and belonging to a writer’s group. Receiving constructive criticism has improved my skills and pushed me to discover things about myself. So, it was with some trepidation I submitted a short story for their critique this past month. I knew would give them pause.

It was a genre I hadn’t written before, contained language I hadn’t seen in any of the groups’ writings, and the subject matter was deadly, diabolically so. I had written a short story about a woman murdering her husband, and I’d had a ball doing it. My husband and I shared many laughs, although he did make an announcement at Thanksgiving…. “If anything should ever happen …”

I admit I was a little nervous as I arrived at our monthly meeting, and when my time came for the round table critique, silence ensued. I wished the room had been bugged with a camera, as the looks on their faces were priceless.

“Uh, uh… She is cold…I don’t want to know her…” My peer shuddered as she tossed her critique to me. The others followed suit.

“It was completely believable…”

“She was a sociopath…”

Three of the six, actually, physically, shuddered as they handed their critiques. Their looks prompted me to ask, “Are you all going to disinvite me to the group, now?” We all laughed, jokes followed, and it broke the tension, which my story had created. Isn’t a story supposed to do? Create tension, be believable?

I had written a story just the way I had intended. Murder is not pretty or comfortable or warm and fuzzy. It should make you shudder. My short story did that this time.

Maybe, I’ll be a writer after all.