Category Archives: Writing is fun
Blogging Joke
Know why Jesus would be great at blogging?
If you correctly guess the answer, I’ll write a post involving your blog. 🙂
And….go!
Hint: he’s got lots of what every blogger wants!
#AmWriting
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
It is so good to have a few moments to write.
Even better: hours.
I have hours. I’m away from the house. Cannot hear the dirty dishes in the sink nor the clothes to be folded calling my name. I have nothing but my laptop and am choosing to ignore my phone and social media.
BLISS.
If you are also a writer, you know what I mean.
And by writer, I don’t mean famous, or published, or even, “manuscript completed and rejected fiftyish times.”
Do keys tapping in a satisfying click-tick rhythm make your anxiety melt?
Words fascinate and enthrall you?
Sentences with perfect balance give you deep satisfaction?
Alliteration, onomatopoeia and entire-paragraphs-sans-adverbs bring you joy?
That’s what I mean.
Writer.
Ode to Seuss
Why I Write
I write because I love it.
I write to keep me sane.
I write when I feel happy
or sad or just mundane.
I write because Hubby says,
“if you neglect to do
writing every single day
your attitude is poo!”
I write ’cause I adore it.
I write because it’s free.
Writing’s a true essential;
costs less than therapy.
I write because I want to.
I write because it’s play.
Sometimes I just write to learn
what my thoughts have to say.
Ask me if I’ll ever stop—
the answer is, I won’t.
And I write because my head
will explode if I don’t.
***
I write because I love it.
Why do you write?
Photo credit: Casey Alexander
*revision from earlier post
Write to the Death
Finding time to write is not a problem for me.
Oh, wait.
I meant to post that on April 1…but didn’t have time.
***
Another blogger and I have been kicking around the idea of forcing ourselves to novel with a deadline.
I suggested we call next month Manic May (in which we write like mad) and proofread each other’s work in Judgmental June (because I couldn’t think of a better word starting with “J”).
Upon hearing my idea, Hubby said, “and then, Judgemental July because neither of you will finish writing in May, so you’ll have to push back proofreading.
Then will come Angsty August because you don’t like each other’s novels but don’t want to say so.
During Sad September, you’ll find your friendship ending over red pen.
You’ll try to salvage the project, if not your camaraderie, during Objective October.
Finally, in Nasty November: a fight to the death over grammar, stabbing each other with the Oxford comma.”
Geez. Maybe HE should write the novel.
Arrival
Fiction
I wake, cheek pressed against a cool, smooth surface beneath me. Breathe in, steady and deep. Out. In.
A slight breeze whispers through my hair, just this side of cool. The air brushes my back.
Light filters bright through the haze above and reflects from facets around me. I move my head just a little bit and the sparkling environment spins. I still, before the nausea causes complete surrender.
I don’t know how I got here. Or, for that matter, the definition of “here.”
I hold myself motionless, allowing my mind to focus.
No memory swims to consciousness.
I stare down, tipping my face away from the dazzling light. Attempting to calm the headache. Grasping for any clue about my arrival. Nothing.
I pull my fingers across the glassy floor, smooth and slow. No nicks or scratches. No bumps, no sand, no crumbs. Perfection. I roll over, my back against the hard ground, to see the shining, sharp edge of a cliff inches from my face. A terrified breath jerks in as I imagine slipping over.
Fear pours down my spine like ice water and I slide in the opposite direction. I want to be far away from that vertical drop.
Managing to distance myself from the edge by a few feet, I rest. This will do for now; movement is a struggle. Once I’ve regained strength, assuming I started with some, I’ll remove myself completely from the danger.
Not that the cliff poses a threat as long as I don’t throw myself over—and that’s not happening. I might not remember anything else, but a healthy fear of heights overpowers my memory gaps.
I listen, eyes closed. What is that noise?
There. To the left. Voices approach. Grow louder. I see them, a knot of slender forms. Everyone moves together. A smaller cluster materializes from the right. Each is wearing the same dark tunic. I squint. My eyes refuse to focus.
“Here! Another one! She’s over here, quick!”
Many hands pull and lift and carry. I realize suddenly that I do not have a matching tunic, but am too exhausted to care. Everything spins.
I embrace the dark.
Limerick
There once was a girl from Nantucket
Who spent half her life in a bucket
When people jeered “why?”
She winked her brown eye
And said,
I just realized that almost any other rhyming word I use here will be impolite.
Free Cheesesteak!
How about a free cheesesteak?
In Philadelphia, PA. From me.
Just sign up for WordCamp US, then let me know you did in the comments; I’ll choose someone at random and buy you a cheesesteak. In fact, I’ll let one of the kids pick a name out of a hat or something, just to be fair.
If you don’t eat meat, we can go for coffee. If you don’t drink coffee, well ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN? Oh, sorry, I mean…we’ll figure out something. Pigeon tipping, maybe.
Haddon Musings has already signed up! Don’t miss out.
WordCamp US will be phenomenal, and here’s why.
HTTPS://DRIBBBLE.COM/SHOTS/2364774-WORDCAMP-US-LOGO
10 Reasons You Won’t Want to Miss WordCamp US
- Super-cool sessions. You don’t have to be a developer or coder to benefit from WordCamp US. Sarah Blackstock wrote an excellent piece about the best options for bloggers and writers here. If you’re still waffling about whether to take your small business to WordPress, check this out. If you are a coder, designer or developer, you can find more information here on the main page.
- Amazing people. Have you noticed? Everyone with WordPress connections is just, well, SUPER! I’m not kidding. I haven’t met ONE person I don’t like. Granted, I’m sort of an extrovert and I like people in general. But in a group this large, there’s usually at least one individual with whom I would not enjoy sharing a cheesesteak. Not in this crowd. Come network, learn and make great friends.
- Happiness Bar. According to people in the know (Ingrid and Liam), the volunteers sharing their technical expertise are “fabulous” and “stacked deep with loads and loads of WP knowledge.” Having recent experience with Happiness Engineers, I agree. Questions about being the master of your domain? Plugin won’t plug in? App making you unhAPPy? (See what I did there? Genius, I know.) The Happiness Bar is your new happy place.
- Philly Cheesesteak. Steak. Cheese. Philly. Need I say more? Well, okay. Here are even more reasons for foodies to flock to WordCamp. Chinese, Italian, coffeehouse, seafood, Mediterranean, vegan, vegetarian, omnivore, like—seriously—anything your hungry heart desires. Oh, and let’s not forget the pretzels!
- After Party. I mean, seriously. Who hates a party? Well, okay, a couple of my friends are not fond of parties. Or people, for that matter…but for the rest of us crazy kids, check out Alx Block’s take on our upcoming fun.
- Swag. No, not sweeping fabric drapes or stolen goods. We are neither interior decorators nor pirates. Most of us aren’t, anyway. WordPress swag rocks. Who can resist Wapuu?
- CHOCOLATE. Several places wait to amaze you, but Max Brenner’s Chocolate Bar is UN-BEE-LIEVE-ABLE. I’m pretty sure those chocolatiers use magic. And maybe Oompa-Loompas.
- Be famous. I’ll be one of the volunteers behind a camera. Say “cheese” (or “coffee,” or “whiskey,” or whatever makes you smile)…you never know when one of my photos will go viral! Hey, it could happen.
- You could win a cheesesteak.
- And BONUS, you can find out what happens when I ask Hubby what he’d like for Christmas this year and he answers, “A redhead.”
People are arriving from across the ocean and down the block. Don’t miss your opportunity to join the networking, learning and celebration.
If you absolutely can’t make it, here’s an option to join the fun from the comfort of your own space. You can even get an official t-shirt.
See you next week!
If I Stay
I haven’t seen the movie yet, but the trailer describes what’s inside my head.
Temporal. Fleeting.
A short time. Like a mist. Snap of the fingers. Don’t blink.
We are separated by so thin a fabric from the other side. We ignore reality, go about our business. Our lives.
Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the knowledge of how quickly life can end. I gaze around the room, arrested in the realization that one of us could be absent at any moment. The immediacy of impending change.
An unexpected gust extinguishes the flame. The Daylily blooms in the morning, opening bright colors to the sun and by evening shrivels to nothing. In an instant, our bodies become a shell, a container empty in sudden finality.
I forget, at times, that this is not ‘my’ life. It is easy to settle into comfort, expecting certain players and characters to appear, disappear, reappear.
But we are reciprocal performers, all bearing roles in The Grand Masterpiece. Every performance, every pageant demands the inexorable curtain call.
Nothing but a moment separates us from leaving it all behind.
I wrote the above while sitting in a church service. A heavy feeling descended; the almost-knowledge of impending change. That someone would soon lay down the script.
I make no pretense of having a direct line to the future, but the weight of that sense was undeniable. Looking around the room, I wondered who it might be.
The retired Army general, always at attention? The empty-nest mother? The ancient farmer decked out in his silver and turquoise-studded leather string tie? The young woman with a heart condition? The middle-aged man with cancer? Me?
What bars our heart from stopping, keeps lungs from failing, prevents our brain from declining to send messages?
No one died that day. Or that week.
I felt better. But still, the visual of the Daylily haunted the edges of my thoughts.
The following Saturday, I attended a ladies’ create-something-cool event at our church. I learned how to pronounce decoupage.
My friend Ana, curves added by her pregnancy, approached with questions about heart surgery. Her baby girl had a heart defect similar to my son’s. They would perform surgery soon after birth to close the hole. She even had the same wonderful surgeon. Still, she twisted her coarse, dark ponytail with nervous energy.
She relaxed as we talked, as I praised the surgeon, as we smiled over my son’s quick recovery. She walked away.
Four days later, I received the message from another friend. Ana had a stroke. She was unresponsive. The baby might die.
I thought of the movie and wondered if she could hear everything around her.
Texts, phone calls and prayers—sad, desperate, hopeful—punctuated the night.
Moved to a better hospital, she did not wake. More prayers, more calls.
While souls hovered, her two beautiful boys said goodbye to their mother and the sister they would never know. Her husband released his wife and daughter. His loves.
Within hours, they were gone.
Sons bereft of mother, husband lacking loving partner, friends without her shining presence. All left destitute.
Just before the funeral, I found the note and remembered the feeling. It returned with concussive force.
I’ve only now been able to write this.
We have no promise of tomorrow. For that matter, no assurance of today. No guarantee that I will draw another breath.
But I have hope. Do you?
1 Peter 1:3-5
3 Give praise to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. In his great mercy he has given us a new birth and a living hope. This hope is living because Jesus Christ rose from the dead. 4 He has given us new birth so that we might share in what belongs to him. This is a gift that can never be destroyed. It can never spoil or even fade away. It is kept in heaven for you. 5 Through faith you are kept safe by God’s power. Your salvation is going to be completed. It is ready to be shown to you in the last days.