Writing Update

I start the day by sharing with Amoeba whatever weird dream he just woke me from.  This morning I must have been thinking of all the housework in front of me, including washing the bedding, because my dream was about Amoeba helping me.  He’d strung the garden hose through the house and was washing the bedding.  Unfortunately it was still on the bed.

Happily, it was just a dream and I woke in a dry bed.  I yawned and stretched and complained about the mornings getting colder.  Then I got up and dressed for the cold, wet foggy, gray day.  I made toast and juice for Amoeba, and tossed his lunch together (literally).

Next I checked my email, finished up Punny Monday, and helped Amoeba get his office ready for use as a bedroom by our eminent company.  Afterward I returned to my office, did my morning devotions and began to write.  My first few days of writing were actually spent looking for the story in my jumble of thoughts.  I’ve written around 7k words since I started, but so far only about 1500 is actual story.

I would probably still be floundering around trying to find story, but an inventory of my likes as a reader, my strengths as a writer, and the book I am using for my morning devotional (which I purchased while on that wonderful retreat), helped focus my thought and give birth to a plot.

The book I am reading, one chapter per day, is Reclaiming the Spiritual Power of Humor: Laugh Your Way to Grace.  The book’s author, Rev. Susan Sparks, was a lawyer who became a stand up comic who became an ordained minister.  As she shared her strict church up bringing she described the God of her childhood as a cross between “Walter Cronkite and Clint Eastwood in High Plains Drifter.”   And that sent me to wondering ….

A writer creates a story by finding something that sparks his or her imagination and starts her thinking, “What if …”.   My string of what ifs (and a couple of, “And how did that work for you?” courtesy of Dr. Phil) gave birth to a trio of characters who have a story to tell.  They have captured my heart and my imagination.

After writing I dashed out to run the errands and do some shopping.  Do you know that one can’t buy a pillow in this town?  It’s amazing.  Three stores all with clerks who say, “We usually have pillows, but …”  No pillows.  After the errands and the grocery store I returned home and did a bit more housework.  Then I sat down to write this post.  In a few moments I have to go start dinner.

Tonight I have to clean my office and find time to finish the church newsletter.   Tomorrow I will vacuum and mop before we go to get our company. While our company is here, I should actually be able to take it easy, since they’ve come to work at the labs and won’t expect to be entertained.  If I don’t get by your blogs tonight.  I’ll see you tomorrow!

The Best Laid Plans …

The Word Count is still 1001.

I had it all worked out.  I sliced up my time and fit it into neat little mental compartments.  I said to myself, “This compartment is unalterable” (thus alerting Murphy — he of Murphy’s Law — that I needed a visit.)  So, yesterday when I went into work and my boss said, “Down-size.”  I spent the evening researching jobs and filling out applications.  It seems that in the face of starvation (figurative) unalterable time schedules can be altered.

Stay tuned ….

Eating Time

Blogging eats time. I need to reclassify some of the time I feed to blogging and call it my writing time. From now on, starting the moment I hit “post” on this blog, I cannot write a blog post or comment on anybody’s site until I have written at least 700 words of my story-in-progress first.

To add insult to what you may be considering your injury, my story-in-progress will not be shared on the blog. I am writing for publication and putting it here makes it less likely to thrill an editor. Sorry. On the plus side, when/if it sells I will be sure to tell you to whom and how you can get it for yourself.

I know that you all want the best for me and understand that if I want my dream of being a published writer to ever be more than a dream, then I have to put in the necessary time and energy. In the meantime, rest assured that I am alive and well and right (write) here at the keyboard.

Oh yeah! (hehe) We’re home from Friday Harbor and we’re safe.


Today I washed all the wet stuff.  Removed sand from places sand shouldn’t be.  Unpackd.  Tidied.  Cleaned.  Shopped.  Cooked.  Cleaned some more.  Visited (I hope) all my blog buddies and left them comments on one or two of their posts, and edited my photos, but now I am far too tired to post and am dragging my sagging butt to bed.  Tomorrow is another day. Good nightzzzzzzz.

The Grown-Ups Wanted Us Dead

The grown-ups wanted us dead. I have proof. Winton Elementary School in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho was built on the edge of a cliff. There was a 35-foot embankment not ten yards from the back door where I lined up every morning before fourth grade.

There was no fence. There was no barbed wire. There were no patrol dogs. THERE WERE NO CONCERNED PARENTS.

We were told to stay away from the cliff, the grownups of my childhood thought that was sufficient. If some child wandered too close and fell off, the general response was: “Damn idiot kid. He was told to stay away from there. Don’t know what his problem is. When that back-brace comes off I’m tanning his stupid hide.”

The cliff wasn’t all though — there was also the playground equipment; that we weren’t told to stay away from. In fact, if a day at school didn’t sufficiently maim enough kids, our parents would send us back after school. “Get out from under my feet! Go play on the playground. I’ll call you for dinner.”

I don’t know why we never figured out that the grownups were trying to kill us. They’d paint us in Mercurochrome, paste band-aids on us, or brace us with splints, and push us right back out the door.

We went willingly — and called it fun.

More stories like this posted on my blog: The Grown-Ups Wanted Us Dead, where an observant person might even discover why my sister, Jackie, calls me CB. The latest story, posted just today, is: The Hole.