Category: writing

Escape-draft

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Prompt from yesterday’s group: Escape

She breathes in early dawn. There’s a stillness when two people
share space. No children scamper, no dog pants or sheds. She breathes again.
Books stacked against the wicker basket haven’t moved. The clock measures
seconds until another hour reminds her to rise, move, participate in the day.
But quiet seeps under the door jam. She listens, waiting, lifting her polished toe
against the cool sheet. Voices float through the open window,
eyelids flutter and close. She writes verse, line by line, breathing words
in and out. Orange slits, burned bread, a broken branch in a torn screen.

No, she will not participate in this day.
Rolling to the right, she tucks the pale blue pillow under her cheek.

Stopping in the Bookstore

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It was really hot today. I needed to walk around town, dropping of fliers for our new studio and classes, so I slipped into The Griffin to order a frozen berry smoothie. There on a low shelf, I noticed The Practical Writer. I own way too many writing books, but I couldn’t resist.

Now I can’t put it down.

“Think of The Practical Writer as a five-star-writers’ conference, minus the salad bar and the steep enrollment fee,” says Wally Lamb.

Julie Checkoway’s suggestions on beginnings and endings make me want to dig out that short story I wrote and tackle it again.

The book was published in 2004 by Poets & Writers. Some of the publishing advice is somewhat dated, but that won’t keep me from putting it on my studio shelf.

Hooray for small-town bookstores, and coffee shops, and butchers, and art studios!

 

 

 

Keeping Faith

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Sometimes I am so hard on myself. One class doesn’t work as planned, and I berate myself for being a poor teacher. Another rejection comes from a literary magazine, and I refuse to take joy in the acceptances and publications I’ve already received.

You know what I’m talking about. The exasperating voice in our heads, the one that says: LOSER. You can almost feel the finger pointing right between your eyes.

I’m lucky, though. I tend to be a glass half-full kind of person. Once I can feel the weight piling up on my shoulders, I start tossing those layers of negativity aside. Soon, I dive back into the project at hand.

I begin again, remembering this from Annie Dillard:

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.