I got in my car and drove downtown today – all by myself. I took care of a few things, then decided to stop in to see a friend. I didn’t tell anyone I was going – I just went. I hung out there for a few hours. Chatted, caught up.
I usually take such simple activities for granted. But after being cooped up in my house for two weeks, the idea of getting out and doing what I wanted simply because I wanted to was – HEAVENLY! I truly appreciated the freedom of it today.
Today, upon climbing out of bed, I did not make a bee-line to the shower. I was able to breathe without the warm, wet air clearing my nose and sinuses. That may sound like a little thing, but it’s the first time I can say that in over two weeks, and that makes it HUGE!
Don’t worry. I haven’t gone on a personal hygiene strike. I took a shower about a hour later. But I really enjoyed not needing to in order to breathe.
While not sleeping due to my cold the other night, I watched the trees blow in the fierce wind over the smooth, snow-covered field outside the window. Eventually I fell asleep. In the morning, I awoke to a field that looked like kindergartners had gone mad in it – rolling up balls for snowmen but being distracted away before constructing them – except there was no evidence of the tykes. No trampled snow, no footsteps. Just balls of snow.
I’d never heard of snow rollers before, and certainly had never seen one. I learned from the TV that they are form when high winds blow across snow with the right combination of a crusty top layer and a loose, powdery under layer.
Sometimes, I think I’ve seen it all, then nature pops up with something new, reminding me how little I actually know and comprehend – bring wonder into my life. Snow Rollers. Very neat.
A couple years ago, I bought a winter hat. It’s red and purple plaid with faux fur lining and ear flaps that can be snapped together under my chin. I remember trying it on and showing my husband.
“You can get it if you want,” he said skeptically. “But you look ridiculous.”
I got it. For the past two years, it has sat in my car in the winter, ready to keep me warm in case I break down or got stuck in a snow drift. Fortunately, I haven’t had to use it. But this year, when the skin on my cheeks freezes within seconds of hitting the below zero winds, it has sat firmly on my head on the few times I’ve ventured out. Ridiculous? Maybe, but at least I’m warm.
I’ve been thinking about Salena McIntosh all day. “Mack,” to her friends and enemies, is a no-nonsense, streetwise young woman who calls it like she sees it, although the truth of her observations is filtered through the lens of a homeless, drug-addicted teen. But Mack isn’t real.
I love the side characters in my novels, particularly Sabio in Choices – a lovable, washed out ex-hippie who’s built his own mini-society on values of peace and love in spite of the violence that surrounds him. But Mack, with her smart mouth and hidden tender underside, may overtake him as my favorite.
Unlike most of the other characters in my novels, these are ones that I don’t plan out. They just appear where needed, with full life histories and attitudes. They are quirky characters making them fun to write and important in highlighting or juxtaposing assumptions or decisions the characters are making. It’s like magic, and they add their own life and perspectives to the story.
So, I am glad to have met Mack, and look forward to getting to know her better!
It’s hard to be thankful for snow this year. We’ve had a lot for a very long time. But for me, today’s winter storm was a blessing in disguise.
It’s Saturday. I’d love to go grocery shopping, meet a friend for brunch or a drink, run errands, maybe go out to dinner or a movie tonight. But the fact is, I shouldn’t be doing any of those things yet. I’m a lot healthier than I’ve been for the past week or so, but the “mom” inside me knows that any of those things would be pushing it, not to mention unnecessarily exposing others to this ridiculous virus. Still, I’ve gotten rather stir crazy cooped up in the house and was planning on doing at least two items on that list, no matter how ill-advised they were.
In rolls blizzard-geddon, reducing visibility to mere feet and rendering roads impassible in a small vehicle. At times, I haven’t been able to see that there are trees in my backyard. And so, my plans were foiled and I’ve nestled in to spend another day resting at home. It will probably do me good. Thanks!
I’ve been told that I don’t write like a girl. More specifically, that I spend less time than other female authors describing what the characters in my stories are wearing. There’s a reason for that – I’m bad at it!
In my world, I notice a lot about expressions, gestures, sounds and smells, but very little about what people are wearing. I barely pay attention to what I’m wearing, making it a challenge when I need to attend an event where I need to “dress up.” As a result, clothing is only important to include in my writing when it it adds necessary context – which for me, isn’t often. But it does happen.
For example, the juxtaposition between a well-to-do professional woman and a young laborer from the Appalachian hills would be obvious at a glance, even at a distance. It would show in their clothes. But that means I have to DESCRIBE what they’re wearing.
This is where internet shopping saves me. It’s another form of research that goes into a novel. I can picture the general nature of the clothes each of the characters would wear, but I don’t know what they are called – particularly in the case of the woman. Off to the internet! For her, I chose to shop at Sax Fifth Avenue, comparing skirt and jacket styles until I was sure I could use terms most people would understand. For him? Kohl’s.com. In short order, I had my scene where these two characters meet and the differences between them are immediately obvious to the reader.
Without the pictures and descriptions on the internet clothing sites, these scenes would take me forever! I’m not even sure how I’d do them – go quiz store clerks? “What do you call this style? And this one? What makes it one particular style and not another?” Bet they’d love that!
In any event, that’s my big gratitude for today – internet shopping. Or there’s my even bigger gratitude – that I am feeling well enough to do some serious writing! Hooray!
I’m finally on the mend from this wicked head cold that has held me in its grips for two weeks. The first four days weren’t so bad, just normal sniffles and sneezing that slowed me down in my meetings and appearances, but didn’t stop me. But since then, I’ve been down for the count, curled up on the couch or burrowed in the bed with no human contact aside from the sudden phone interview I had to give a reporter yesterday. For the past week, my husband and I have quite understandably existed in different rooms of our home. I have been all alone – except for the dog.
I never wanted this dog. Our last one died prematurely from leukemia and I was looking forward to the freedom of going on spur of the moment trips without making dog-sitting arrangements or creating spontaneous day-long adventures without having to run home so the dog could go potty. But Mark missed having a furry creature around and so we got Morgan, the stupidest dog (she forgets to eat) I have ever encountered. But she is sweet.
For my week of isolation, Morgan has laid at my feet on the couch or slept entangled in my legs on the bed. Occasionally, she’d skooch up to press her muzzle against my cheek just to let me know she was there. She’d happily roll over and let me rub her belly at four a.m. to distract myself from coughing, then she’d nuzzle into me again, her brown eyes asking if I was okay. I haven’t enjoyed being so sick, but Morgan has been a comfort for which I am grateful.
Back when I was a healthcare attorney, everything I did was tense. If I overplayed my client’s hand, he could lose his medical career. If I misread a regulation my client could go to jail or maybe it would land me in the jail cell. I don’t miss constantly dealing in those stakes. Not in the slightest. Now I kill people in brutal rituals and destroy their careers with the click of a few key. Heart pounding at times, but none of it is real.
Today I had the adrenaline rush that comes from occasionally playing for real stakes. I am the board chair of a nonprofit association and a big report on the sector was released a few days ago. I’d glanced at it and figured I’d get back to it when I was feeling better. Then a reporter from a major newspaper calls, seeking my comments on the report and, of course, he’s on a deadline.
Okay, brain. Let’s cram in the details of the report. Remember in your comments that you’re representing the association, and the entire nonprofit sector, and TRY not to make a total fool of yourself. Ready? On your mark, get set, GO!
I think I did fair – I won’t say I did any better than that. And I had a feeling he was fishing for something he wasn’t going to tell me, so the context in which he places my remarks may be very different than the one in which they were given. Or maybe he won’t use them at all. Still, it got my blood moving and my brain processing “quickly” compared to its recent sluggish state. In short, the adrenaline rush was fun!
It’s been hard writing these posts this past week. Being sick made it hard enough to think of good things, and then write about them? Yuck. Too much work. Twice I nearly stopped, figuring I could justify a break because I was sick. But something made me persevere. Something said that the point of a gratitude journal is found not on the upbeat, happy days, but on the hard ones. And now I know that’s right.
There are so many things to be grateful for, even on the bad days. The touch felt through the card from a friend. The comfort of a space heater. And today – the silent beauty of January snow, a warm bath, the ability to express myself through writing, and many more. For the past few days, I have been as sick as I have been in my life, but within each day, gratitude was still present. That’s the point of this blog, isn’t it? To adjust my focus on what’s positive rather than what’s gone wrong or could go wrong. And I have to say, it’s working.