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| The news tonight brings back horrifying memories for me because ten years ago my grandson was a freshman at Marysville Pilchuck High School. “On October 24, 2014, 15-year-old freshman student Jaylen Fryberg shot five students at Marysville Pilchuck High School in Marysville, Washington, fatally wounding four, before shooting and killing himself.” marysville school shooting 2014 - Search (bing.com) I watched Jaylen the night before as I waited in the parking lot for my Grandson after football practice. Jaylen wildly pulled his braids loose and shook his head. He leaped in the air kicking and howled . My grandson was still on the field. When he got in the car, I asked what was going on with Jaylen. He said he was close to getting kicked off the team. His cousin started dating his ex and Jaylen couldn’t cope and was bullying his cousin. The coach kicked him off the field. The next day I had the tv on as I did housework. An emergency warning flashed across the screen announcing a school shooting there! I called my grandson ASAP. He whispered, “Gramma, I am in lock-down we are hiding please don’t call again. Gotta go. I love you.” Click. My grandson is getting married next week. I will hug him extra tight. Then on October 1, 2017, his mother, my daughter, was at the Route 91 Harvest music festival in Las Vegas. She went with her group of nursing friends. Her life was saved by a turn of her head. The scene was gut wrenching. All of them and their families, including me, still suffer post-traumatic stress. Lets get rid of guns. I know people want them but, my God, let's put a stop to it. |
Prompt 5. Sept 5."Blog Week Birthday Bastion 2024"  The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go. Dr. Seuss Tell us more about the writer in you. Plans/Aspirations/Fears/Status etc? 565 Words I knew as a child that I wanted to write. I lived-in make-believe worlds. We rarely had babysitters, my brother and me. On a rare occasion, we did. A teenage neighbor girl who brought a portable manual typewriter. She was practicing. And I remember standing there and watching her. And she told me, “You need to step away. I'm trying to do my homework.” I yelled at her. “But I need to learn to type. I'm going to be a writer.” I wish now that I had learned to type well. I didn't. When I had a chance to learn in high school. I barely passed the classes. I think my top speed was 59 words per minute or something silly like that. I never made the 60 wpm I wanted. Wha wha wha [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Now a person doesn't need to type if they have Microsoft word or any dictating program like the old dragon system. You have to train it and edit it but it can be a blessing. I wanted to be a nurse for a vocation AND to write and publish novels for fun. I never accomplished either of those. And no, tears aren't dripping down my face because. I'm 72 years old and didn't accomplish what I wanted. I had so many other things to fill in the spaces… good ones and bad. While I was trying to be a nurse, I worked at a nursing home during the day. And three nights a week I worked on the surgical floor of our city’s only hospital as a CNA. One night, a famous author was in a car crash and was admitted to my ward. And during his stay, which was lengthy due to the extent of his injuries, I hounded him with question after question about his career. Enquiring minds want to know. I told him I wanted to be a writer too. I had taken a home study course on writing magazine articles. Later I sold one to a historical society magazine and I wrote one for the local newspaper. But the point is his advice, which was, “Write what you know. Use your life as fodder for your stories. Just this surgical wing alone, could fill pages.” I do that in my novel “The Dance of the Opal,” which comes and goes, off my top burner, all my adult life. I work on it now and then. Last year I bought a writing program (Final draft 12) to help me pull it together, that and two other novels from my head. It takes me longer than others to learn technology. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I have filled a slew of beat boards. (That’s a final Draft feature) One of these days I will master it, I just know it. I met published authors when I managed HeartLight, Neale Donald Walsh’s estate in Ashland, Oregon. We hosted writer’s retreats. Everyone has fears of the big “What if my muse dries up?” (paraphrasing) That is a common thread because publishers are HUNGRY and need to be fed. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Years ago, I paid to have my horoscope read by a famous astrologer (no name dropping now lol because I can’t remember it) She said that I would be a LATE BLOOMER and become famous later in life. That thought fuels my dream of publishing a best-selling novel. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
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