Spring Surprise

A spring surprise--While looking through our gardening storage areas, many and scattered, I came across a planter with two green sprouts emerging from the soil. I struggled to remember what might have been planted there and decided it was either a long-forgotten amaryllis or a long dear mother-in-law's tongue. Why I considered the second option is beyond me at this point and at any rate, it was faulty thinking on my part. The shoots were, indeed, from what I had thought was a defunct amaryllis. It had been so long since it had appeared that I couldn't remember the color. I put it on the deck and wished it luck, as I do most of my plants, knowing that they're pretty much on their own once they go outside. This morning I woke to glorious white blossoms, soon followed by several more.

I'm hoping that, like my amaryllis, a few months of hibernation from blog-writing will now become a beautiful blossoming of words and thoughts, embellished with graphics and photos. No, I'm not just hoping, I'm determined!

Moving Day

I've moved! I'm now working in our basement laundry room, in my own little corner. It's taken me two months, but I've finally moved books, files, desk, laptop, printer and research material to this little corner. I'm right next to a window that looks into our backyard, and this afternoon I watched a feral mama cat nurse her two little kittens right outside my window. Chipmunks drop by for a drink from the planter saucer I keep on the patio for them; squirrels and birds eat and chase each other; and Ella, the hound next door, desperately tries to get at them from her side of the fence. Wonderful distractions for the creative spirit and much better than the upstairs distractions of dust and dinner and doorbells and the general demands of a household.


Now, to get some writing and networking done down here. I'm ready!

Writing the Novel

"If you try to nail anything down, in the novel, either it kills the novel,
or the novel gets up and walks away with the nail."--D.H. Lawrence

I ran across this quote the other day and found it interesting--even intriguing. Since first reading it, I've been thinking about the nail it refers to. Have I been trying to nail something down in the novel I'm working on? Have I been forcing characters to do and/or say something they're not comfortable with? Have I been moving the plot in a direction it simply doesn't want to go? It's true I can't force characters or plot onto a path that suits me if that direction isn't true to the story. It's so easy to forget that when I'm in the midst of writing.

So I'm grateful every time a character steps up to tell me that he or she simply won't do what I want--or when a new character appears from nowhere and pushes me in a different direction. I'll always try to pay attention, for fear the whole thing will get up and walk away with the nail I'm trying to force into place.

I've never been good with a hammer and nail!

Serendipity

I've always a great respect for the phenomenon of serendipity. When things happen in a coincidental way, connecting two things or ideas, it's mystical to me.

Recently on a trip to the Upper Peninsula in Michigan, Peter and I drove to Whitefish Point on Lake Superior. We'd wanted to see that lake and its gorgeous turquoise waters. We'd heard that the beach was beautiful.

The Shipwreck Museum there is devoted to the history of the many wrecks that occur along that stretch of coast, the most famous being the Edmund Fitzgerald. It was interesting to see the bits (some of the giant bits) and pieces of ships that didn't make it to their destination. After touring the museum and viewing a film about the Fitzgerald's sad end and the memorial built in honor of the captain and crew, we strolled over to the replica of a Life Saving Station, where I took some photos of the equipment and gear used by the original Life Savers.

Great stuff for background for the historical novel I'm working on. It's about a young girl in 1913 who wants to be a Life Saver like her father and brother. At that time, only males could do that work.

 

Here's the serendipity part: On our way to the car, I spotted a gift shop and took a quick spin through it. On my way out, I spied a glittery object on a display table. A second look showed the glitter to be a replica of the medals used by the surfmen on their nightly patrols to meet their counterpart from the neighboring station. I'd read about these, but it was a thrill to actually see one--and to be able to buy it and bring it home for inspiration! It now hangs over my laptop.

As Peter often says, it doesn't take much to make me happy!

Tao and the Creative Process

I read this other day in my book of Tao meditations:

••••••••••••••••••••••••

An ocean of ink in a single drop,

Trembling at the tip of my brush,

Poised above stark white paper,

A universe waits for existence.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

 

It no doubt refers to the act of creating visual art, but it seems to fit the writer's life as well. It's awing to realize that a universe is waiting for existence while the writer hesitates to begin her work. Or that an ocean of ink is held in a single drop (or an ocean of words in a single touch on the keyboard). The point of the meditation that followed those words stresses the importance of having reverence for one's work, for treating it with esteem.
 

This thought gives me pause. Do I have reverence or esteem for my work as I'm putting words down? Too often I get fed up with my efforts and long to hit the delete button. Maybe if I began with a more respectful feeling for what I'm writing things would flow more and I'd be happier with what I create. Certainly worth a try. I manage to respect other writer's work. Perhaps I should treat my own words with the same esteem--before I even start out. As the saying goes: Wouldn't hurt. Might help.