Creative writers like myself will draw inspiration from practically anything. It could be rooted in a real-life interaction, in an article we read, in the tone of a TV show we are bingeing. Each idea extracted will be filed away in the giant cloud of our minds. The better ideas will take root and will hopefully appear in our chosen medium.
I like to call this my Season of Absorbing. A time where I gather all sorts of muses to get ready to write. I finished my causal writing regimen a month ago, and I haven’t done any sort of writing since it finished. Then again, today I finished my third book this month, so there’s that.
So I’ve got a handful of ideas I think might be worth exploring - some ideas more developed than others – and my fingers are itching to return to storytelling, but I can’t get myself to face that blank Word document.
Does anyone else ever have this problem?
Where you’re not short of ideas, but since there are too many of them, you can’t pick one, so you sit there, paralyzed, feeling a bit overwhelmed? And even though you know that you should just choose a story idea and write it for a little bit to understand the plot and characters better, you make excuses on why the story itself is not so good after all or that you need to actually figure the conflict out, so why bother?
I see it almost like the opposite of Writer’s Block. Reverse Writer’s Block?* I feel like there must be a term out there in the writing world about this phenomenon, but I personally don’t know what it is.
Maybe that’s why strict writing schedule work so well for me. If I force myself to write a certain number of words per day, I don’t have time to think too hard about my story ideas. I’m usually more concerned about getting those words onto the paper so I can move on with my day.
Of course, it doesn’t help that I’ve also been thinking about non-fiction lately. I never studied this form while I was in college, so I’m not entirely confident if I can construct a well-written piece. (They implemented the program the semester after I graduated.) I just read them as they appear on the websites of the literary magazines I keep an eye on.
All in all, I’m in the mood to write, I have the inspirations germinating in my head, but I can’t seem to persuade myself to actually write.
Being a writer of anything is not easy, you guys.
*Nope. Through quick research, I discovered that this describes “hypergraphia.” It’s when a person can’t stop writing. Studies suggest that a malfunction in the temporal lobe of the brain – which governs emotion and possibly inspiration – can result in the compulsive urge to write. Fascinating. But it’s not what I’m experiencing.
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
The Life Cycle of Turdus migratorius
Maybe she longs for the tree she sees / reflected in the glass, but I'm only guessing. / I watch until she gives up and swoops off. / I wait for her return
During the month of May, a couple of robins were determined to create a nest on our deck. To be fair, it was a nice spot. A pillar that held the lattice wall on one side of the deck ran right up against the house. Above it was a little overhang from the second-story floor. This secluded area was a fine place away from the wind.
The birds collected all sorts of long, dead leaves from the nearby daylily plants and wove it into a nest. My dad went out there with a broom and pushed it off the pillar. The following day, the robins were at it again. And then the broom came out once more and down the nest fell, crashing to the ground. This process of building-destroying-rebuilding went on for about two weeks. The only reason why my dad finally stopped was because he figured, if the birds were that determined, they might as well have their nest. If the deck people came to repair the lattice wall while the robins were nesting, they’d have to work around the birds.
The chicks hatched on May 27. Their mother had finally departed from the nest, and I noticed movement just over the rim. When the mother returned with a single worm, three heads popped up from the nest. Beaks wide open, bulging eyes closed, their necks stretched out to get a chance at being fed. Three little birds for the three children that grew up in the house. A trio.
The baby robins matured quickly. One dominant bird was always stepping over the others as they gradually outgrew their home. It made sure to receive their mother’s worm first, whereas there was one poor bird that was always pushed down further into the nest. In fact, for the longest time, my dad thought there were only two robins that were born because the third one hardly poked its head up.
On the morning of June 3, I had glanced out the side door to glimpse the birds. To my surprise, one of the robins was fluttering from deck post to deck post. It looked pretty confident in his abilities. There was still a bird sitting in the nest, but the third robin was missing. My guess was it had already taken flight.
When I returned home a couple of hours later, the chick sitting in the nest was the only one that remained. I wondered if its mother was ever going to return to feed it, or if she had left her offspring for good.
“You have to fly, little bird,” I remember thinking. “If you want to survive.”
I watched as the bird pushed up against the nest’s edge, twitching its wings, but it would not take that next step to at least perch.
Sometime in the evening, when I had become preoccupied with other things, the nest was finally empty.
The following weeks, we’d occasionally spy the baby birds out in the backyard. You could always tell which ones they were, for their plumage was still speckled with white. One of them was fatter than the other two, so it must have been the dominant chick. My dad pushed their old nest off of the deck now that they were grown, and a replacement never appeared.
From the other side of the kitchen window, I smiled one day when I saw two of the young birds walking along the patio pavement. An adult robin came by and offered a worm to one of the youngsters. It seems that Mama was still caring for them.
In the end of June, we had thrown together a BBQ for dinner. Once we were finished eating, my brother grabbed the grill’s covering from off the ground and discovered a very tiny dead baby bird on the patio. Flies circled around it, but its body hadn’t decomposed yet, so it must have happened pretty recently. Our guess was that the wind had carried the chick out of its nest and to its death. Its parents did not have the foresight to nest in a secure place like the robins from a month ago.
Four days later, my brother discovered another dead bird in the same area as the small chick. He alerted my dad, and a shovel was grabbed. When my dad went to pick up the speckled robin, its head flopped around. One of our baby robins, the trio I had watched grow up, had most likely broken its neck against the kitchen window.
On July 9, I stepped out onto the deck to inspect the soil of my flower pots. I started with the two pots on my deck before I moved onto the remaining one on the deck landing. As I was looking at the purple petunias, I found it odd that two houseflies were buzzing around my flowers. I looked up over the railings, and I saw a scattering of gray-brown feathers in the lawn by the pine trees. I walked over to take a better look, and there was a dead robin on its stomach.
Something clearly must have attacked this adult robin. (Who can know if this was an all-grown bird from the trio?) Perhaps a cat or the neighborhood hawk/falcon got to it. Either way, the creature had no desire to actually eat the bird because its body was still intact. Its head was tucked beneath its body.
A few hours later, I pointed this bird out to my dad. The shovel came out again, and a shallow grave was dug beside one of the pine trees. The robin was carefully scooped up and placed inside it. Most of its strewn feathers were pushed into the hole and over the bird. Soil was thrown onto the grave, and the back of the shovel was used to smooth out the dirt. The backyard sprinklers were going to kick on in minutes.
-“Bird” by Dorianne Laux
During the month of May, a couple of robins were determined to create a nest on our deck. To be fair, it was a nice spot. A pillar that held the lattice wall on one side of the deck ran right up against the house. Above it was a little overhang from the second-story floor. This secluded area was a fine place away from the wind.
The birds collected all sorts of long, dead leaves from the nearby daylily plants and wove it into a nest. My dad went out there with a broom and pushed it off the pillar. The following day, the robins were at it again. And then the broom came out once more and down the nest fell, crashing to the ground. This process of building-destroying-rebuilding went on for about two weeks. The only reason why my dad finally stopped was because he figured, if the birds were that determined, they might as well have their nest. If the deck people came to repair the lattice wall while the robins were nesting, they’d have to work around the birds.
*
The chicks hatched on May 27. Their mother had finally departed from the nest, and I noticed movement just over the rim. When the mother returned with a single worm, three heads popped up from the nest. Beaks wide open, bulging eyes closed, their necks stretched out to get a chance at being fed. Three little birds for the three children that grew up in the house. A trio.
*
The baby robins matured quickly. One dominant bird was always stepping over the others as they gradually outgrew their home. It made sure to receive their mother’s worm first, whereas there was one poor bird that was always pushed down further into the nest. In fact, for the longest time, my dad thought there were only two robins that were born because the third one hardly poked its head up.
*
On the morning of June 3, I had glanced out the side door to glimpse the birds. To my surprise, one of the robins was fluttering from deck post to deck post. It looked pretty confident in his abilities. There was still a bird sitting in the nest, but the third robin was missing. My guess was it had already taken flight.
When I returned home a couple of hours later, the chick sitting in the nest was the only one that remained. I wondered if its mother was ever going to return to feed it, or if she had left her offspring for good.
“You have to fly, little bird,” I remember thinking. “If you want to survive.”
I watched as the bird pushed up against the nest’s edge, twitching its wings, but it would not take that next step to at least perch.
Sometime in the evening, when I had become preoccupied with other things, the nest was finally empty.
*
The following weeks, we’d occasionally spy the baby birds out in the backyard. You could always tell which ones they were, for their plumage was still speckled with white. One of them was fatter than the other two, so it must have been the dominant chick. My dad pushed their old nest off of the deck now that they were grown, and a replacement never appeared.
From the other side of the kitchen window, I smiled one day when I saw two of the young birds walking along the patio pavement. An adult robin came by and offered a worm to one of the youngsters. It seems that Mama was still caring for them.
*
In the end of June, we had thrown together a BBQ for dinner. Once we were finished eating, my brother grabbed the grill’s covering from off the ground and discovered a very tiny dead baby bird on the patio. Flies circled around it, but its body hadn’t decomposed yet, so it must have happened pretty recently. Our guess was that the wind had carried the chick out of its nest and to its death. Its parents did not have the foresight to nest in a secure place like the robins from a month ago.
*
*
On July 9, I stepped out onto the deck to inspect the soil of my flower pots. I started with the two pots on my deck before I moved onto the remaining one on the deck landing. As I was looking at the purple petunias, I found it odd that two houseflies were buzzing around my flowers. I looked up over the railings, and I saw a scattering of gray-brown feathers in the lawn by the pine trees. I walked over to take a better look, and there was a dead robin on its stomach.
Something clearly must have attacked this adult robin. (Who can know if this was an all-grown bird from the trio?) Perhaps a cat or the neighborhood hawk/falcon got to it. Either way, the creature had no desire to actually eat the bird because its body was still intact. Its head was tucked beneath its body.
A few hours later, I pointed this bird out to my dad. The shovel came out again, and a shallow grave was dug beside one of the pine trees. The robin was carefully scooped up and placed inside it. Most of its strewn feathers were pushed into the hole and over the bird. Soil was thrown onto the grave, and the back of the shovel was used to smooth out the dirt. The backyard sprinklers were going to kick on in minutes.
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Stumbling Upon a Creative Spark
Now that it’s officially the last day of June, the writing schedule I set up for the month has reached its end. I’m actually quite satisfied with the effort I made with it. (You know, other than not starting on June 1st like I had originally hoped for. There was a second project that I worked on for the month of June, and I like the results I’ve been seeing for this too.)
Basic statistics:
-I wrote for a total of 14 days. There were four odd-numbered days where I didn’t get around to writing that day, so I had to make it up the following day.
-Altogether, I wrote a total of 16,048 words. This means that on average, I wrote about 1,146 words each day.
-During the first two days of writing, I didn’t quite reach the one hour mark. (One was for 54 mins and the other was for 56 mins.) After that, I managed to write for at least an hour. My average is 1 hour, 8 mins per day.
-I worked on five different stories. I technically only completed one of them. (With the other stories, I wasn’t quite certain how I wanted it to end, so I’m basically hitting the “pause” button on them for now.)
-In terms of genre, I was all over the place. I first started with magical realism. Then anthropomorphic. (Which I haven’t done in a long time.) Then sci-fi. Then I guess fairy tale? And lastly, it was some sort of post-apocalypse/low fantasy mix? I just go with whatever plot or character speaks to me and hope it’ll take me far. They were all written in third-person, past tense. At least I was consistent with something, right?
When I started spontaneously writing the last story, the three characters that appeared on the page surprised me. And as I’ve been continuing that story with its current flimsy plotline, it has got me thinking. Because there’s definitely some sort of spark there that has called to me.
What I’d really like to do in the coming days of July is do some heavy-duty brainstorming to figure this world out. Maybe pull out my handy Plot Chart (which I haven’t used in a year). Because right now, the story could go in a dozen different directions; I don’t know which pathway is best for the two main characters.
Lately, though, I feel like I’m beginning to fall into the rabbit hole of research. For example, my Google history currently contains: Snowy owls, the genetic fur color variations of Red foxes, blindness and its day-to-day struggles, and a map of Michigan. I dare you to guess what kind of story I could possibly write with these topics, haha.
Fingers crossed I can turn it into a new manuscript project that I’ve been itching to do again. Although, I would also like to pick up and read a new book since I haven’t done so upon finishing Katharine McGee’s novel two weeks ago. My unread book pile is not getting any smaller, you know. (Not like I don’t read other things. I read magazines and newspapers every week. It never stops. Who needs sleep?)
Anyway. Hopefully July will be a successful month as well.
Basic statistics:
-I wrote for a total of 14 days. There were four odd-numbered days where I didn’t get around to writing that day, so I had to make it up the following day.
-Altogether, I wrote a total of 16,048 words. This means that on average, I wrote about 1,146 words each day.
-During the first two days of writing, I didn’t quite reach the one hour mark. (One was for 54 mins and the other was for 56 mins.) After that, I managed to write for at least an hour. My average is 1 hour, 8 mins per day.
-I worked on five different stories. I technically only completed one of them. (With the other stories, I wasn’t quite certain how I wanted it to end, so I’m basically hitting the “pause” button on them for now.)
-In terms of genre, I was all over the place. I first started with magical realism. Then anthropomorphic. (Which I haven’t done in a long time.) Then sci-fi. Then I guess fairy tale? And lastly, it was some sort of post-apocalypse/low fantasy mix? I just go with whatever plot or character speaks to me and hope it’ll take me far. They were all written in third-person, past tense. At least I was consistent with something, right?
When I started spontaneously writing the last story, the three characters that appeared on the page surprised me. And as I’ve been continuing that story with its current flimsy plotline, it has got me thinking. Because there’s definitely some sort of spark there that has called to me.
What I’d really like to do in the coming days of July is do some heavy-duty brainstorming to figure this world out. Maybe pull out my handy Plot Chart (which I haven’t used in a year). Because right now, the story could go in a dozen different directions; I don’t know which pathway is best for the two main characters.
Lately, though, I feel like I’m beginning to fall into the rabbit hole of research. For example, my Google history currently contains: Snowy owls, the genetic fur color variations of Red foxes, blindness and its day-to-day struggles, and a map of Michigan. I dare you to guess what kind of story I could possibly write with these topics, haha.
Fingers crossed I can turn it into a new manuscript project that I’ve been itching to do again. Although, I would also like to pick up and read a new book since I haven’t done so upon finishing Katharine McGee’s novel two weeks ago. My unread book pile is not getting any smaller, you know. (Not like I don’t read other things. I read magazines and newspapers every week. It never stops. Who needs sleep?)
Anyway. Hopefully July will be a successful month as well.
Saturday, June 15, 2019
Dying Flowers, Restless Legs, and Winding Roads (aka: A Life Update)
Does anyone else start to become very busy once summer hits? Like, there’s something about sunshine that makes everyone get up and do things and be more productive.
For the past two weeks, I feel like I’m all over the place. Well, maybe not physically all over the place (I’ve been spending a lot of time stuck in my house), but mentally I’m running around and getting all sorts of tasks done.
And so, to give you an idea of what I’ve been up to lately, here it is in list form:
1.) Yard Work
If I did the math correctly, I spent about 4.5 hours last week pulling weeds from my backyard. You may think that we must have a ton of land, but it’s just a lot of landscape. And the first weed-pulling of the year is always the worst. (I had done the front yard the week before.) I was hoping to gain some sort of tan while I was outside, but it didn’t happen. Too much shade, I suppose. I was also required to transplant grass that was growing in our front yard landscape and input them into our patchy backyard lawn. This worked out better than I had hoped.
I’m a little disappointed in the flowers I had planted in the end of May, though. All the rain we’ve been getting is starting to drown my flowers. In fact, one of the species I picked out is practically dead. Sigh. Waste of money. And they were such a pretty deep purple color.
A squirrel has already tried to ruin one of my flower pots. I thought it was one of the rabbits already (every year they munch on my flowers), but none of the petals were touched. Instead, there was a gaping hole where they uprooted one of my flowers. Earlier in the week, I already had to chase away another squirrel as it was leaning over and inspecting another one of my pots. It appears that I’m going to look like a madwoman this summer, running and yelling at squirrels, lol.
2.) Basement Improvements
This past Monday-Thursday, we’ve had two people over to paint the basement. To prep for them, my family and I spent the previous weekend moving whatever was left in the basement (aside from the really heavy items) and hauled them upstairs to the main floor. We also stuck a few things into my sister’s old room upstairs since she doesn’t live here anymore. Needless to say, it now looks like I live in a hoarder house.
But since someone had to be home while the painters worked, that duty fell on me. My dad would debrief with them once they arrived at 9 a.m., but then he would leave to go back to work. So I’ve been trapped in the house during those days from 9-4:30 p.m. (Except for a period of time on Wednesday afternoon. I’m sure the painters never realized I was gone for that long.) I’ve been so restless lately because of my “imprisonment.” The basement looks really nice now, though. Next step: picking out the new carpet.
3.) Reading
During those hours when I was stuck in the house, I found myself doing a lot of reading. I’ve been having laptop issues lately – which is making me mad – but it’s forced me to step away from the computer because I don’t want to deal with it. Hence all the reading in between actually doing other things on my to-do list.
Two days ago, I finished Katharine McGee’s THE TOWERING SKY. I really enjoyed her trilogy, even if it’s usually not the kind of book I’d typically pick up. She did a nice job with creating distinct characters and some cool futuristic world-building. I didn’t expect her to end it on such a happy note, but considering all the grief and guilt she had her characters go through, I guess they deserved some happiness.
4.) Writing
When June started, I decided to casually undergo a writing schedule for the month. For every day that ends in an “odd” number, I had to write something fictional for at least an hour. Unfortunately, I failed to write anything on June 1. To be fair, it was a Saturday and I spent a few hours that day hauling things from the basement upstairs. But since June 3, I’ve been keeping up with it. I never quite know what to write, but once I finally get started, the hour goes by quickly.
I’d really like to get back into some manuscript-like writing, but I haven’t landed on an idea that I feel confident enough about. So for now, it’s just short stories or scenes that could belong to some sort of larger story.
5.) Like Looking from the Other Side of a Mirror
This past Wednesday, I met a girl who had just graduated from MSU last month. She was new to our group, but she had met two of my friends earlier in the week, so she was invited to join us for bible study. For a newcomer I was surprised by how talkative she was, but as she shared parts of her life and current struggles as a recent graduate, it took me back to my days when I was in her position as a 21-year-old.
By the end of the evening, I finally got a chance to tell her how I was an alumni and I asked her which church group she had belonged to out there. Unfortunately, we were not part of the same organization, but we were obviously familiar with each other’s. It was strange to think about how she enrolled the year after I graduated, did all her four years, and now graduated herself. Like, had it really been five years already since I left that campus?
But it also made me think about this girl who I kinda looked up to as a mentor when I joined my first bible study post-MSU. I haven’t seen or heard from her in over three years, but I hope she’s doing okay. Sarah and I had unknowingly gone to the same junior high, high school, and college together (and even got science degrees). She was only two years older than me, but she had qualities that I admired as she navigated trying to be a proper adult.
And although I can’t imagine being some sort of influence on this girl I met on Wednesday (there are plenty of other girls in the group who are doing a better job at being an adult than I am), I almost wanted to tell her some advice as she’s struggling to figure out the next steps post-undergrad. Like how she’ll probably feel directionless for far longer than she’ll think. How getting a job that’s not STEM-related is extremely difficult. How she should buckle up, because you have no idea what your tumultuous twenties will send your way. How being adaptable is probably the best thing you can do for yourself at that stage of life.
But I kept my mouth shut. Perhaps one day, if she keeps coming to our group, I’ll tell her. For now, though, it’s better for her to keep her hope. Best not to scare her about the long and bumpy road she is just beginning to embark on.
After all, I still have 3.5 years left of my twenties. Who am I to tell her when I’m still trying to navigate early adulthood’s twist and turns? Like everyone else, she’ll figure it out. Eventually.
For the past two weeks, I feel like I’m all over the place. Well, maybe not physically all over the place (I’ve been spending a lot of time stuck in my house), but mentally I’m running around and getting all sorts of tasks done.
And so, to give you an idea of what I’ve been up to lately, here it is in list form:
1.) Yard Work
If I did the math correctly, I spent about 4.5 hours last week pulling weeds from my backyard. You may think that we must have a ton of land, but it’s just a lot of landscape. And the first weed-pulling of the year is always the worst. (I had done the front yard the week before.) I was hoping to gain some sort of tan while I was outside, but it didn’t happen. Too much shade, I suppose. I was also required to transplant grass that was growing in our front yard landscape and input them into our patchy backyard lawn. This worked out better than I had hoped.
I’m a little disappointed in the flowers I had planted in the end of May, though. All the rain we’ve been getting is starting to drown my flowers. In fact, one of the species I picked out is practically dead. Sigh. Waste of money. And they were such a pretty deep purple color.
A squirrel has already tried to ruin one of my flower pots. I thought it was one of the rabbits already (every year they munch on my flowers), but none of the petals were touched. Instead, there was a gaping hole where they uprooted one of my flowers. Earlier in the week, I already had to chase away another squirrel as it was leaning over and inspecting another one of my pots. It appears that I’m going to look like a madwoman this summer, running and yelling at squirrels, lol.
2.) Basement Improvements
This past Monday-Thursday, we’ve had two people over to paint the basement. To prep for them, my family and I spent the previous weekend moving whatever was left in the basement (aside from the really heavy items) and hauled them upstairs to the main floor. We also stuck a few things into my sister’s old room upstairs since she doesn’t live here anymore. Needless to say, it now looks like I live in a hoarder house.
But since someone had to be home while the painters worked, that duty fell on me. My dad would debrief with them once they arrived at 9 a.m., but then he would leave to go back to work. So I’ve been trapped in the house during those days from 9-4:30 p.m. (Except for a period of time on Wednesday afternoon. I’m sure the painters never realized I was gone for that long.) I’ve been so restless lately because of my “imprisonment.” The basement looks really nice now, though. Next step: picking out the new carpet.
3.) Reading
During those hours when I was stuck in the house, I found myself doing a lot of reading. I’ve been having laptop issues lately – which is making me mad – but it’s forced me to step away from the computer because I don’t want to deal with it. Hence all the reading in between actually doing other things on my to-do list.
Two days ago, I finished Katharine McGee’s THE TOWERING SKY. I really enjoyed her trilogy, even if it’s usually not the kind of book I’d typically pick up. She did a nice job with creating distinct characters and some cool futuristic world-building. I didn’t expect her to end it on such a happy note, but considering all the grief and guilt she had her characters go through, I guess they deserved some happiness.
4.) Writing
When June started, I decided to casually undergo a writing schedule for the month. For every day that ends in an “odd” number, I had to write something fictional for at least an hour. Unfortunately, I failed to write anything on June 1. To be fair, it was a Saturday and I spent a few hours that day hauling things from the basement upstairs. But since June 3, I’ve been keeping up with it. I never quite know what to write, but once I finally get started, the hour goes by quickly.
I’d really like to get back into some manuscript-like writing, but I haven’t landed on an idea that I feel confident enough about. So for now, it’s just short stories or scenes that could belong to some sort of larger story.
5.) Like Looking from the Other Side of a Mirror
This past Wednesday, I met a girl who had just graduated from MSU last month. She was new to our group, but she had met two of my friends earlier in the week, so she was invited to join us for bible study. For a newcomer I was surprised by how talkative she was, but as she shared parts of her life and current struggles as a recent graduate, it took me back to my days when I was in her position as a 21-year-old.
By the end of the evening, I finally got a chance to tell her how I was an alumni and I asked her which church group she had belonged to out there. Unfortunately, we were not part of the same organization, but we were obviously familiar with each other’s. It was strange to think about how she enrolled the year after I graduated, did all her four years, and now graduated herself. Like, had it really been five years already since I left that campus?
But it also made me think about this girl who I kinda looked up to as a mentor when I joined my first bible study post-MSU. I haven’t seen or heard from her in over three years, but I hope she’s doing okay. Sarah and I had unknowingly gone to the same junior high, high school, and college together (and even got science degrees). She was only two years older than me, but she had qualities that I admired as she navigated trying to be a proper adult.
And although I can’t imagine being some sort of influence on this girl I met on Wednesday (there are plenty of other girls in the group who are doing a better job at being an adult than I am), I almost wanted to tell her some advice as she’s struggling to figure out the next steps post-undergrad. Like how she’ll probably feel directionless for far longer than she’ll think. How getting a job that’s not STEM-related is extremely difficult. How she should buckle up, because you have no idea what your tumultuous twenties will send your way. How being adaptable is probably the best thing you can do for yourself at that stage of life.
But I kept my mouth shut. Perhaps one day, if she keeps coming to our group, I’ll tell her. For now, though, it’s better for her to keep her hope. Best not to scare her about the long and bumpy road she is just beginning to embark on.
After all, I still have 3.5 years left of my twenties. Who am I to tell her when I’m still trying to navigate early adulthood’s twist and turns? Like everyone else, she’ll figure it out. Eventually.
Friday, May 31, 2019
My Brief Trip Up North
Of course, during the four-hour drive to our hotel, we hit two tourist stops. Throughout my childhood, our family would always make a detour to them whenever we went up north, so I expected it. And without telling my sister about my recent fascination, she suggested that we visit a familiar stop in Gaylord: a small museum filled with taxidermied animals.
(What? You didn’t think I actually made up the idea of this kind of museum to fit my short story, did you?)
So there we were, before noon, taking a walk down their halls with our little clipboards (because they provide a scavenger hunt, if you’re interested) and reading all the displays. At some point during the middle, we thought we heard another group entering the museum, but we never saw anyone else during our time there.
I learned so many new animal facts. Like the Walleye fish is named that way because it’s derived from the Icelandic word Vagl, meaning "film over eye." (Yes, the fish gives off the appearance of having cataracts.) Or that owls technically don’t have eyeballs. (They’re actually tubular and are held in place by bone plates.) Or that ermines are prone to catching a certain parasite that deforms their skulls. (As morbid as this sounds, I was disappointed I didn’t get to see a parasite-destroyed skull. I later googled it. Turns out, the bone above their nasal cavities becomes porous.)
^Fun fact: Black bears are the only native bear found in Michigan.
It was also interesting to see how much my brain filled in the blanks and fictionalized the museum while I was writing my short story two weeks ago. I haven’t been to the actual museum since I was probably in high school, so my sister and I were trying to figure out what had changed during that time frame. The two animals you can touch in the sitting room were different – but the species were still the same. I also laughed internally when I stumbled upon the name of the early Michigan fur trapper that the museum has two exhibits of; I had given my protagonist the exact same first name. I wish I could say my subconscious was behind it, but it was just a fun coincidence.
Later, once we checked into our hotel and dropped our luggage off, we crossed over the Mackinac Bridge. We eventually found my uncle’s small business/tourist shop, and we sat in their parking lot for a few minutes, debating whether we should actually go in or not. In the end, we did enter the establishment. Made our uncle speechless, and then we hung around for forty-five minutes until my aunt showed up for her shift.
^Look at those white caps! See how windy it was? Our ears were smarting for a while after we climbed back down.
The evening with my extended family went surprisingly well. Got to see their 8-year-old dog for the first time since we haven’t been inside their house in nine years. We even received free ferry ride tickets for the next day because my cousin works at one of the docks! (Saved me and my sister $25 each.)
As for the next day when we finally rode our bikes on Mackinac Island, the weather was exactly what was predicted: warmer, and no rain. Nothing will make you feel more out shape after bike riding for eight miles and then doing another mile or two inland where all the hills are. (We walked our bikes up those steep hills. I was always the one trailing behind.)
^I had to climb 207 steps one way to get this picture. Thankfully, we walked this vantage point in the beginning of our day. By the end, we would have been way too tired.
Throughout our bike riding circuit of the island, they have various educational signs to read. So we’d pause to take a look at them. And I discovered that I can’t stop proofreading them all. Who wrote these signs? Why did one board spell the word “travel” two different ways? (In American-English, it’s only one “L.”) I kept finding small errors as I was reading the displays at the museum too. The worst offense was when I noticed a semicolon after the word “however.” I thought my eye was going to start twitching upon seeing that. (The semicolon always goes before “however”!) It was usually a comma issue at the museum, though.
Don’t worry; I only pointed out the proofreading errors once to my sister. I realize no one actually wants to hear me obnoxiously correcting editing mistakes out loud. Not unless I’m purposely trying to annoy someone.
But there’s no escaping it in my head.
Thursday, May 16, 2019
An Unexpected Muse
As of last week, my Writer’s Block is no longer in existence. Typing out my exasperation with it in my previous post actually worked.
The idea of a museum filled with taxidermied animals never left me. And in the early hours of a Wednesday morning – around 2:30 a.m. as I was getting ready to sleep – a character hit me. All I had was his inner turmoil, imagining him in this setting. Then everything else sort of spilled out the more I thought about how the protagonist got into this situation.
Much later in the evening of that Wednesday, I drafted a brief outline of the short story and began working on it. I wrote for almost three hours that night and then spent two hours the following day to finish it.
It was more of a literary piece – which is what I was aiming for – but the theme I thought I was going to explore ended up vying for attention with another theme: inheritance. Fun stuff. Some stories will certainly take you on some interesting turns once you actually start writing it.
Since I finished the piece, however, I keep going back to tweak it. I added a more concrete scene in the opening page. Thought about moving a few sentences around in another scene. (In the end, I didn’t do it, but I’m still not completely satisfied with the start of that scene.) Changed the final line of the entire story.
I’m also contemplating about maybe writing a second version of the story. Right now, I think I made the right decision to have it in third-person perspective. But there seems to be a strong narrator voice, which I keep going back and forth on. It fits with the detachment and despair of the protagonist, but I’m not sure if it’s too much. Also, the museum setting basically feels like a character too, so I don’t want to spend so much time in the protagonist’s head because of it.
I haven’t written a new story since last week, but now I have this “itch” to write more stories with a rural or small-town feel. I would never personally want to live in the countryside, but I understand why some people would find this type of environment alluring.
It probably doesn’t help that my sister and I are going on a mini-vacation up north next week. Northern Michigan, especially the Upper Peninsula, is quite known for their rural small towns. I have family that lives in the first tiny town once you cross the Mackinac Bridge, and my cousins’ school contained all K-12 students in one building. Granted, the elementary, middle school, and high school each had a section of the building, but still. The fact that they’d only have thirty kids in each grade is something I have a difficult time comprehending.
Despite all that, I hope I can mine some story ideas from my trip. I haven’t gone on any sort of overnight vacation in four years. My sister and I had talked about going up north since summer 2016, but we could never make it happen. (We also haven’t been in that area in almost nine years.) I’m excited for it. Even if I have had to evade all sorts of questions about it from my mom and grandma…because they’re hinting that they want to tag along on our mini-vacation too.
The idea of a museum filled with taxidermied animals never left me. And in the early hours of a Wednesday morning – around 2:30 a.m. as I was getting ready to sleep – a character hit me. All I had was his inner turmoil, imagining him in this setting. Then everything else sort of spilled out the more I thought about how the protagonist got into this situation.
Much later in the evening of that Wednesday, I drafted a brief outline of the short story and began working on it. I wrote for almost three hours that night and then spent two hours the following day to finish it.
It was more of a literary piece – which is what I was aiming for – but the theme I thought I was going to explore ended up vying for attention with another theme: inheritance. Fun stuff. Some stories will certainly take you on some interesting turns once you actually start writing it.
Since I finished the piece, however, I keep going back to tweak it. I added a more concrete scene in the opening page. Thought about moving a few sentences around in another scene. (In the end, I didn’t do it, but I’m still not completely satisfied with the start of that scene.) Changed the final line of the entire story.
I’m also contemplating about maybe writing a second version of the story. Right now, I think I made the right decision to have it in third-person perspective. But there seems to be a strong narrator voice, which I keep going back and forth on. It fits with the detachment and despair of the protagonist, but I’m not sure if it’s too much. Also, the museum setting basically feels like a character too, so I don’t want to spend so much time in the protagonist’s head because of it.
I haven’t written a new story since last week, but now I have this “itch” to write more stories with a rural or small-town feel. I would never personally want to live in the countryside, but I understand why some people would find this type of environment alluring.
It probably doesn’t help that my sister and I are going on a mini-vacation up north next week. Northern Michigan, especially the Upper Peninsula, is quite known for their rural small towns. I have family that lives in the first tiny town once you cross the Mackinac Bridge, and my cousins’ school contained all K-12 students in one building. Granted, the elementary, middle school, and high school each had a section of the building, but still. The fact that they’d only have thirty kids in each grade is something I have a difficult time comprehending.
Despite all that, I hope I can mine some story ideas from my trip. I haven’t gone on any sort of overnight vacation in four years. My sister and I had talked about going up north since summer 2016, but we could never make it happen. (We also haven’t been in that area in almost nine years.) I’m excited for it. Even if I have had to evade all sorts of questions about it from my mom and grandma…because they’re hinting that they want to tag along on our mini-vacation too.
Tuesday, April 30, 2019
Overthinking Writerly Things
Confession: I have not written anything fiction-related since NaNoWriMo ended. Meaning it’s been exactly five months.
Sure, I’ve written other things in the meantime. After all, I’ve cranked out nine blog posts (not including this one). I’ve also been in the mood to do some creative writing in the past few weeks, but I sadly have not acted on it.
I think a large part of it is simply because I don’t know what kind of story to write. I know, I know – I should just start writing anything, and a plot will begin to emerge at some point. It’s how I usually survive and succeed at NaNo every year. But I’ve also been thinking about past stories lately and wondering if I should go back to them. Take that short story and expand upon it or have another go at rewriting one of my previous larger writing projects.
What doesn’t really help is that I’m in the mood to write something involving certain themes or settings or objects. You’d think this would make it easier for me to jump back into writing, but I don’t know how to approach said touchpoints. Anyone got any suggestions on how I can incorporate the idea of a museum composed of taxidermied animals? A farm containing an important well? How about a character looking to save her mentor?
Fun fact: With those first two touchpoints, I actually used them for two separate short stories during my Fiction Writing classes while I was still earning my degree. So part of me is wondering whether I should go back to those stories and develop them more or just create an entirely new story using those settings.
In two weeks, it will also mark one year since I finished my Spring Writing Project 2018. I have not opened or reread that manuscript since I completed it. I feel like I need to go back and read what I wrote a year ago. It’s not something unique enough where I would want to share it with the world, but I mainly want to revisit certain character interactions.
Speaking of characters, they are the ones who keep pulling me back to past stories I have written. There are certain projects where I would love to return to the protagonists, but their actual story/plot needs work. Do I revise their story, or do I create an entirely new story for these characters instead? I’m not usually one who uses the same character for multiple stories, but maybe it’s worth a try?
I think all of this is just my long-winded way of admitting that I have writer’s block. Not sure if it’s a lack of motivation or I need to re-shift my priorities or I’m thinking too hard about the details. Maybe I should force myself to write for a week or two in May, just to get myself back into the game. Kinda like what I did in February.
And if you’ve read this far into my ramblings, thanks.
Sure, I’ve written other things in the meantime. After all, I’ve cranked out nine blog posts (not including this one). I’ve also been in the mood to do some creative writing in the past few weeks, but I sadly have not acted on it.
I think a large part of it is simply because I don’t know what kind of story to write. I know, I know – I should just start writing anything, and a plot will begin to emerge at some point. It’s how I usually survive and succeed at NaNo every year. But I’ve also been thinking about past stories lately and wondering if I should go back to them. Take that short story and expand upon it or have another go at rewriting one of my previous larger writing projects.
What doesn’t really help is that I’m in the mood to write something involving certain themes or settings or objects. You’d think this would make it easier for me to jump back into writing, but I don’t know how to approach said touchpoints. Anyone got any suggestions on how I can incorporate the idea of a museum composed of taxidermied animals? A farm containing an important well? How about a character looking to save her mentor?
Fun fact: With those first two touchpoints, I actually used them for two separate short stories during my Fiction Writing classes while I was still earning my degree. So part of me is wondering whether I should go back to those stories and develop them more or just create an entirely new story using those settings.
In two weeks, it will also mark one year since I finished my Spring Writing Project 2018. I have not opened or reread that manuscript since I completed it. I feel like I need to go back and read what I wrote a year ago. It’s not something unique enough where I would want to share it with the world, but I mainly want to revisit certain character interactions.
Speaking of characters, they are the ones who keep pulling me back to past stories I have written. There are certain projects where I would love to return to the protagonists, but their actual story/plot needs work. Do I revise their story, or do I create an entirely new story for these characters instead? I’m not usually one who uses the same character for multiple stories, but maybe it’s worth a try?
I think all of this is just my long-winded way of admitting that I have writer’s block. Not sure if it’s a lack of motivation or I need to re-shift my priorities or I’m thinking too hard about the details. Maybe I should force myself to write for a week or two in May, just to get myself back into the game. Kinda like what I did in February.
And if you’ve read this far into my ramblings, thanks.
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