%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Writing and avoiding writer's block requires constant creativity. |
| Sometimes the greatest way to get motivated is just to let the thoughts roll straight through the brain, to the fingers, and out onto a clean slate. There are lots of ways that I keep the creative juices flowing and blogging is just one of those. |
| Have you noticed that writers are always asking questions? They are always the one observing the not so obvious. We are the ones who always want more. More facts, more details, and we notice things that others over look. Don't just give us the facts. We need more than the who, what, when, where, why, and how. Regardless of how those details play out in the story, we want to know, smells, sounds, and we need more whys. My husband calls this reading more into it than was there. But I call it quality reporting. An eye for detail, the ability to recreate the moment right down to the last speck of dust sitting on the mantle. Sometimes it might be that the speck of dust was important, but we want to be able to edit what is there. I think it is what makes us better writers. We have honed our skill to learn to ask the questions the reader may have. If not, then, we should. We have to anticipate the questions, and carefully answer them within the story. That is how I had come about some of my story ideas. I asked questions. Not so much from the one relaying the information, but I asked the questions that I thought as a reader I would want to know. My dad has so many wonderful stories of when he was growing up. Sometimes the stories he tells are from just passing by a familiar spot and he tells me about what used to sit on that corner. Sometimes, he recalls an old friend, whose obituary he has read in the paper, and he proceeds to tell me about some adventure they had as young boys growing up. He is sharing with me a piece of his past, and later as I sit down, I wonder, "What if?" What if this happened to them, what if that happened? How would this character change from one moment to the next? Would they be the same? I'm not sure if I had said this before, but I will repeat it here just in case, but while researching my families history, I ran across a most peculiar what if. To state the fact, my great grandmother was rumored to have been a mulatto by the other ancestors. Of course, here in the South, mulatto was used to refer to someone who was of mixed race. Black/white, indian/white, indian/black. It did not matter the ancestry, mulatto was someone who's true heritage was muddled in the mix. The main reason for this, was that even after the slaves had been freed, the "lawmakers" found more and more ways to lessen the freedoms to the point that it did not matter if they were free or not, they had no rights. I'm not going to get into a whole racial thing here so I will end with that. As I was researching for my grandmother's ancestry, I found a young woman's name who was the same, listed in the census, who was mulatto, and who was about the same age. I'm still unsure as to if she is the one (my great grandmother passed away when my grandmother was barely 2 years old, so we have no word of mouth history to go on, and my great grandfather's side was a little embarrassed by the whole situation), but this young girl was living in a boarding house run by a young black teacher. Most of the boarders were young black adults and the aforementioned mulattos. But in an interesting questioning of the facts, my mind was led to wonder. How these two young teenagers came to live here (the young girl was there with her brother)? And even more, how this young single teacher came to run this boarding house full of children. And I thought, with more research. What if she was helping these children learn to read and write so that they could vote. (in the South, to keep the blacks from voting they would have to prove they could read and write) So many story ideas can come from just looking at things you see or hear in a different light. To try and see something that may not be there, but would lead to such interesting story lines and plots. Still to this day, I am haunted by that story that needs to be told. The characters are lingering over my shoulder saying, "tell my story." They long to come to life, to be made real. They wait for me to ask them the right questions and answer them with words grasped from the air. |
| I am a self-proclaimed procrastinator! Yes, there I have said it and I am very proud of it. I live by the seat of my pants and I do not panic when there is a deadline looming. NOT! Actually I dread deadlines. When my grandmother passed away, the pastor asked some of the grandchildren if we would like to say a few words. My brother agreed, somewhat hesitantly. Another cousin of mine, said, "Yes!" And I agreed, thinking perhaps that I could write something brilliant. The funeral was postponed as we had relatives out of town that were hard to get in touch with, but I thought, more time for me to plan my brilliant speech. The fact is, I tormented over that speech. I was so overwhelmed with grief and hurt, that every time I tried to sit down at the computer, words would not form. I walked outside one night and just cried, begging my grandmother for help with this one, I needed some inspiration. At church the next morning, I sat in the pew with my youngest son. They had asked if anyone had anything that they needed to pray about to come down front and someone would come pray with them. I wasn't going, even though inside, my heart was in so much pain. But my son, at 6 years of age, and the wisdom of a 79 year old man who had seen more in one lifetime, looked up and me and I swear, I saw my grandmother's eyes staring back at me, and he said, "Don't you think that you need to go down there and pray. I will be sitting right here waiting on you when you get back." I stood up, wandered down front, by now my grief welling up inside of me, the bitterness that I was holding on to regarding how my sister-in-law had jumped in and took over, everything poured out at once, and I was relieved. But the Lord showed me several things that day. He showed me that my sister-in-law is a born organizer, she is gifted in the area of administration. I am not. He showed me the heart and compassion of my son, and the way he is molding him to his glory. And he showed me that through her death, his glory would be made known. My mom and her sister, who was not speaking, made amends. My aunt went back home and became a born-again Christian, she found salvation through my grandmother's death. God's glory shown. I went home that day, sat down, and thoughts poured out onto the paper in ways I never knew I could write. It was a wonderful sentiment to my grandmother, and my brother said to me, as I sat down, "I'm glad I went first, because that is one tough act to follow." My cousin had to go after me. But writing is my passion and my gift. I hope to put that tribute to my grandmother up one day to share. Right now it is sitting in my sewing room among a group of pictures of my grandmother and grandfather awaiting to be scrapped into a memory album, so that my grandchildren will know them, just as I did. Sometimes procrastination is not just about dodging the deadline. Sometimes it is waiting for material to surface and guide you to your destiny. |
| My day started off with an excruciating migraine and nausea, brought on more than likely by worrying about the procedure I was having done today. Two weeks ago today I was going to the hospital for a routing CT Scan to rule out any problems with my gall bladder and confirm my doctor's diagnosis of IBS. I would suspect IBS and so would my doctor because it goes along with the Fibromyalgia I have. I never expected to walk into my doctor's office Friday and have her say, "You need to go back to the hospital and have another CT Scan. They found a spot that appears to be some calcification, but they need to go down a little farther and see exactly how big it is and what it is." Now, I have to say that this sent my head to reeling. It wasn't but two and a half years ago when I sat with my mom in the doctor's office as her doctor said, "We found a spot of something unusual on the CT Scan and we want to go back and do another Scan but go a little farther up." Three months later, on December 27th, 2004 I was sitting there with my mom as the doctor told my mom that she had lung cancer. I expressed my concern to my doctor who told me, "Oh, don't worry about it. It's probably just scar tissue from having babies. Just precautionary." But all the while in the back of mind the words echo, "You had a CT scan in 2001, there was nothing there. Same spot. You can feel the knots under my skin, golf ball size lumps, and you say not to worry. My health has been steadily declining over the last year and no one could tell me what was wrong with me except to say I have Fibro and some of this is all in my head, but you say,'No problem, no worries.'" It is at this time that I want to jerk the doctor up, shake her, and say, "Do you not know that my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer? Do you not know that my uncle is lying in a hospital bed at this moment dying of colon cancer? Do you not know that my grandmother died of a brain tumor? Do you not know that when I had my hysterectomy, my body was full of tumors?" This road seems familiar. It feels desolate and lonely. I want to get off of it, to move past it, but all these voices of doubt are flying around inside my head. I walked into the hospital, the same familiar faces greeting me. I want to say, "Do you know why I'm here? Do you know something that I don't?" But I know they will not share that information. The same technician calls me back. She remembers me as she looks at me and says, "At least this time we won't have to find a vein to stick an I.V. in, we can just go on back." She gestures to me to go ahead and lie down on the table. I lie back as the table moves into position the machinery starts up. It reminds me of a jet engine as the laser cycles around and around the machine. It's loud. It doesn't take too long for the test to complete, and the technician comes in to help me up. She looks at me with concern in her eyes and says, "Expect your doctor to be calling real soon." This adds yet another voice calling out the doubts in my mind and in my heart. Why did she say that? Last time she said I could call and find out my results in a day or two. Why would my doctor be calling me soon? As I drive back to my mom's to pick up my son's the radio is playing a message. The lady is speaking about sexual abuse and children, and adults who have been sexually abused. But it's not so much that message that stuck with me,it was what she said about those who have been abused are the ones who are spiritually thirsty and are eager to come to Christ, but they are also the ones who have the hardest time letting God take control of their lives. She said that they have had no control over their lives for so long, that when they have a chance to be in control, they want to control what is going on without given it all over to God. I thought briefly, "Lord, that's me! What are you trying to tell me?" At church tonight, the lesson is on Hebrews 11:23-29. By faith Moses gave up his position as pharoah's son to be treated as a slave. He gave up everything, looking ahead at the reward. By faith. Moses trusted in God. He faced the pharoah's army, with nothing more than a staff, because he had faith and trusted God. The pastor said, "Do you have faith as Moses? Are you willing to give everything worldly up and trust God? What do you need to trust God to do for you? Your health? Your finances? Your business? Your family? YES, YES, YES, YES, YES TO ALL. But... Prayer time brought about a prayer of a dear young man. He and his wife are new parents, their son will be turning two this July. They are such a precious couple, both eager servants of the Lord. He had a prayer request for his family's salvation. His mom, dad, and sister are not saved. Our pastor said, "Brother, pray for your family and friends what is in your heart and we will be in agreement for you." There was much this young man said, but there was one thing that stuck out so much, "Lord, if need be and it came to it. Let me be a sacrifice for them Lord, if through my death, they would see your glory. If that is what it takes, I hand it over to you." And I wept. How bold! I would sacrifice my life, for them. And is that not what Christ did for us! Praise the Lord! I walked out thinking, Lord, I need so much to hand it all over to you. To trust you to handle everything. To have faith that you have a much greater plan than I could ever imagine. To know that on the other side is a much greater reward. Know matter what the outcome of the tests are, I will boldly proclaim that it is He who has preordained it and as long as I am trusting in Him, I am walking in His Will! |
| Today I'm feeling kind of AAUUGGHH! It's one of those days where it is hard to get any of the creative juices flowing. I've thought about going in to the sewing room and finishing up a project, scrapbooking photos from Christmas, or even playing a little music. More than likely though, I will probably end up sitting down and reading a book. I've been trying to read "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix." It's one of my son's books that someone gave him for his birthday one year. He was given a book because at the time he loved to read, but he never read it. He did read some, but it mostly got put by the wayside and forgotten about. Me, I am an avid reader. I love to go to the thrift stores and find books that intrigue me. If I find a good classic, I will purchase it and read it over and over. Perhaps I could go to the library, but I prefer purchasing and placing it upon my shelf in hopes that my children will also feel as passionate about the written word as I do. For now, that hope is a distant dream. They dislike reading, they detest writing, and their creativity is only found in newer ways to destroy the house. My husband wandered into their bedroom to clean (he's a clean freak!) and was surprised at the state of the bedroom. My boy's idea of cleaning is to shove everything under the bed. My husband went into shock at the sight of it, as he found it appalling and ridiculous. But I couldn't say anything. I remember those days, when I think I did the same. My unorganized mess and chaos to others, is my perfect filing system. I know where each thing is and if someone comes in and moves something, I know it instinctively and throws the whole thing out of balance. Freaky, huh? But i prefer the process of creating, not the cleaning. Sometimes though, I just have to clean up. To clear my mind and prepare for the next thing. So we cleaned up this weekend, and today I feel AAAUUUUGGGGHHH! I just have to scream! I'm stuck in a rut, and nothing wants to process it's way through. My characters are in place, waiting, anticipating what they should do next, and I have no clue. I know the ending, I know how I want it to end, but this is the climax. It is just hanging there, waiting to be let loose, and I really want for it to be dramatic. So now I need to process through what should happen, how it needs to happen, and maneuver it to get the end result that I want. I think I will just go and read a book. |
| Well, I am almost finished with my novel. I have been slaving at it for nearly two years. Starting and stopping writing as I went along. But last night I told my husband that I thought in about two more days I should have it completed. Then the hard part comes: finding a publisher. I must admit that finding a publisher is harder than writing the book. I find writing the easy part. I had spent some time writing down ideas and drafts for children's books, but the novel I am finishing up is more adult oriented. A science fiction/drama type novel. I got the idea from a dream I had once. It's funny how inspiration can come from some of the oddest of places. My idea file is filled with ideas that I have gathered up. Some from researching my genealogy, others from, stories my dad told me about growing up, and still others from incidents that I have experienced. Well, I'm off to go finish and polish my manuscript. Handmade by Martha http://www.handmadebymartha.esmartdesign.com MBWebDesigns http://www.mbwebdesigns.esmartdesign.com |
| This morning despite the desperate plea of my flesh to stay put in bed, my husband and I decided to get up early enough to go to Sunday School. Like most families, it is hard to get everyone in gear at the same time and make it anywhere on time. My husband is very adamant about punctuality. He is always on time and likes for everyone else to be as well. It is a pet peeve that I am constantly treading on. My pastor has been urging us to attend Sunday School due to the fact that all the Sunday school classes are going through the "Network" book. I'm unsure as to the exact name, but basically it is to help you discover what your Spiritual gifts are and how you can use them in serving. Through this book I have learned the obvious: I am gifted in the area of Creative Communication, Craftsmanship, Wisdom, and Helps. But today, we discussed personal style. It was interesting to watch the other couples point to each other whenever there was a comment made. Even my husband and I were sitting there nudging each other in the ribs going, that's you to a "T." For instance, my husband is a structured person, meaning he likes everything in order. (Didn't get that from the punctuality remark?} And I am an unstructured person. I prefer to play it by ear, no plan, just fly by the seat of my pants. I am a people/unstructured, I like dealing with people, interacting with people. He is a task/structured. He prefers lists and goals. Funny how we are on the opposite ends of the spectrum from each other. But this is our personal styles, this is how we prefer to use our gifts. I prefer to be out front doing and performing, and he shies away from the limelight and prefers working behind the scenes. Now if I can just figure out how to do it and not get stagefright. Anyhow, I learned something about my husband today that I sort of knew all along. While I am a free spirit and I prefer to glide through life like a butterfly floating here and there, my husband is the anchor that keeps us all in line. He is the one who says, "We need a plan," and he never understands why I never have an idea about what we are having for dinner, or what I want to eat. Now he knows it's because, I like to work it out and see what happens, leaving things up to chance. I learned a long time ago that things happen best when left up to chance. While my husband may have had it in his head that the day he walked into my office, he was going to ask me out, I said yes because, I was hungry. I wasn't looking for a date, I just figured, what the heck. I'm hungry and he said he was taking me out for dinner. Wonder what would have happened had I not been unstructured and a people person. Handmade by Martha http://www.handmadebymartha.esmartdesign.com MBWebDesigns http://www.mbwebdesigns.esmartdesign.com |
| My husband made a comment to me last night that really hit home. He said,"No wonder you sleep in late and are hard to get up in the mornings. You sit in here [the sewing room] until all hours of the night on the computer and don't go to bed on time." To my defense, I told him that I was working. I think that it is so hard to find time to write during the day. I have a house to run, children who need tending to,since I am my children's teacher I have lessons to prepare,grade, and type up, pets that have to be cared for, and dinners to prepare. That is a lot going on during the day, and at night, out of consideration for my husband, unless my back is hurting (the comfortable chair is in the bedroom), I go to the sewing room to write. I like to write in the sewing room. It is the best place to write and be fully focused on writing. There are no distractions. There is no internet access, no games (well, maybe one, but the computer has no sound, so the game is not much fun to play), and if I need a distraction, there are plenty of creative outlets in there. I keep all my books in that room, my guitar, and lots of other fiber art stuff to do. But I try to make sure that when it comes to time to write, I am writing. Sure I may stop every once in a while and think about what my character needs to do next, or what twist the plot needs to take to stay interesting, but I tend to do that while playing the guitar, knitting, or crocheting. Even during school hours in our house, I am thinking. Perhaps it is something my children say, or the lesson. These are all learning moments, research for future books or the current one, and I plan to take advantage of every second that I have. Then if I need to, I can take a break without feeling too guilty. So my defining moment when my husband made his comment is this: Am I neglecting my family by spending time writing, or am I benefiting us in the long run? I hope that perhaps by spending time after everyone has gone to sleep writing will benefit my family in the long run. Currently we are a one income earner family where we really need to be a two-income family. My husband works full time at one job and part time cutting grass and doing some landscaping work on the side. I left the job market back in 2001 with the goal of pursuing my dream: writing. Several bouts with depression, health issues, and deaths in my family set me back to the point where I had no hope left in me. I stopped doing everything that meant so much to me: my writing, my crafting, and music. This year, even in the midst of my battle with my health I have gained a renewed sense of hope. Watching my mom fight cancer last year and seeing her faith unwavering through many months of chemo to come through it triumphantly with one battle won I saw what I aspired. To have that kind of hope, faith, and courage. Now as though God had timed it so perfectly, I am undergoing the same tests my mom did before she received her diagnosis. A CT scan that showed something and they need to go lower. Knowing something is wrong but not able to put your finger on it. But I know that as I endure these tests, that my faith will not faulter and that I will emerge triumphantly on the other side, stronger, braver, and I will have a testimony much greater. So for now, I press on, writing, putting words to paper to achieve my goal no matter what. Knowing I wasted such precious time these last few years by giving up. With each word and story that I write, I am strengthening my skills and honing my craft. I will be victorious. Handmade by Martha http://www.handmadebymartha.esmartdesign.com MBWebDesigns http://www.mbwebdesigns.esmartdesign.com |
| Today I spent a lot of time getting my son's school work caught up on. With two children in different grades and labs that seem to take up the entire kitchen, not to mention time, things get pretty cluttered up fast. I'm sure other homeschool moms (or dads) would definitely agree that clutter becomes a part of the daily life. Books get scattered as children find little corners to sit and study in and paperwork starts to pile up. Unfortunately, I can't create in that environment, so every once in a while it is time to clean up the clutter. I end up gathering all the books and lost paperwork. I'm not blessed enough to have my own little school room so we tend to use the kitchen for school. (I even made a blackboard to hang up in there.) Handmade by Martha http://www.handmadebymartha.esmartdesign.com MBWebDesigns http://www.mbwebdesigns.esmartdesign.com |
| Busy, busy, busy would describe my life right now. I have been so busy trying to finish up this school year. (I homeschool) I have been busy trying to finish the quilt for my cousin's baby which was born in April. Busy trying to raise two orphaned kittens and I have been busy trying to complete my novel. Sometimes I think that I have too many irons in the fire. Truth be known I enjoy a little chaos every once in a while. It keeps me on my toes. My novel I have been working on for the last two years. It has been a long process. My inspiration started with a dream I had and a conversation with my brother. Of course, what I have now is completely different from the original inspiration, but I believe that when we begin with an idea and start the interview process the idea evolves. The end result changes, because that single idea is just the spark. It's not the fire. I like to ask questions and investigate all the possibilities when I approach my subject. The what-if's and maybe's and could be's are all a part of the writing. Handmade by Martha http://www.handmadebymartha.esmartdesign.com MBWebDesigns http://www.mbwebdesigns.esmartdesign.com |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
