Category Archives: Writing

I thole, you thole, we all thole together: A thole word

Some days I barely manage to thole the Twitter experience. Other days, it sends wonderful gifts.

Last week, @RobGMacfarlane sent this gift:

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Fantastic word, that.

Quietly, toughly inspiring, as he says. The simple act of reading the definition fills my “thole” with a renewed vigour.

Sometimes we feel like this lone twig on a barren tree.

lone twig on barren tree

Other days nothing can hold us back, like these robust colourful blossoms.

Lonely twig or robust blossom, I thole, you thole, we all thole together.

 

 

An invitation to create the old-fashioned way

Imagine how excited I was to discover this at the Penetanguishene Public Library near my cottage.

My husband, a former journalist, remembered the feel of those old typewriter keys under the fingertips.

I loved the idea of the invitation to story. I was pleased to see people take up the offer.

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I’m still on a summer break, but itching to write . . .

 

A splatter in time

In my earlier post I wrote about a weekend when time slowed down. I relaxed at a friend’s cottage, and the leisurely dawdle in time allowed me to notice images of wings that came to me.

Immediately after that weekend, time accelerated from dawdle to flash and I rushed from activity to activity: social events, my daughter’s graduation from university, travel to the Canadian Writers’ Summit in Toronto and the launch of an anthology that includes one of my short stories. Whoosh.

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Smart, talented and determined, my daughter graduates.

I did my best to stay in the moment for all those fun and meaningful moments, but I had little time to luxuriate in noticing. Except once. 

During a writers’ summit poetry session held in a marquis tent at Toronto’s Harbourfront Centre, one of the leaders asked us to notice something in our immediate surroundings: one unusual or interesting aspect of the setting. I looked up, around and then down. On the paving stones beneath my feet I noticed something that would have escaped me otherwise: bright platters of colourful paint. The stones beneath my feet were the setting for poetry at that moment, but in the not-too-distant past children had played and created with paint there. I imagined their laughter and playful shouts.

 

The workshop leader gave me the gift of time to notice.

I’ll pay it forward. Take some time to notice. What gift is there for you that you might not have appreciated otherwise?


The Blood Is Thicker anthology, published by Iguana Books, includes my short story, “Beating the Odds.” Available here: Blood Is Thicker

 

Obstreperous: Something I learned

Today’s topic brought to you by: 300 Writing Prompts.

My son and his girlfriend teamed up and their brainstorming led to this book as one of my Christmas gifts. It contains three hundred ideas to set me (and you) thinking. I flipped through it this morning.

I passed by “What color do you feel like today?” (Blue, but in the good way. Not much more to say about that.)

I turned the page quickly from “How clean is your house now?” Not going there.

I landed on “What is something you learned in the past few days?”

I thought back to the scrap of paper left lying about on one of the desks at one of the places where I work. (I have too many jobs, really.) Someone had written the word OBSTREPEROUS in well-spaced capital letters. I picked the paper up. “What’s this about?” I asked.

A co-worker, whose first language is not English, said, “What does it mean?”

I thought about this. I had heard the word before and I could take a stab at a definition, but when it came right down to it I had to confess that I wasn’t sure. “I think it means grumpy,” I said. “I’ll look it up.”

I searched Oxford Dictionaries and came up with: Noisy and difficult to control.” 

“Ah,” I said. “I understand how I was confused. People who are obstreperous make other people grumpy.”

Why was OBSTREPEROUS lying around on the work station? I would tell you, but thinking about it makes me a little grumpy.

What have you learned in the past few days? 

 

Reasons to write and live

At a gathering of the local branch of the Canadian Authors Association, the writers in the room wrote down words to describe the writing experience.

Out of that we created a Writing Word Cloud.

 

Words for writing and life

Terror, right above Bliss. 

Mystical right in the middle of everything.

Fun not far away.

Elusive in there more than once.

Tranquility and Solace.

Hard work, Glass Wall, Escape.

Mindblowing, Universal, Wonder. 

Words to describe the writing experience, certainly, and life in general.

Following the urge to be artists, or how we can astonish ourselves

I felt I had to follow up my previous blog about the never-ending story with this post on a similar theme.

I was a pre-school playgroup leader for a time when my children were young. For each day’s session I prepared a craft for the kids. I cut out all the bits and pieces so I could give each child with exactly the same materials. I made a sample of the craft so I could hold it up for all to see.

“This is what we’re making,” I said before setting them lose to create.

If there were 15 kids in the group, at the end there would be 15 completely different crafts.

I admired (and envied) how freely those children followed their artist souls and created without apprehensions about what other people might think. I loved how they danced with excitement with their finished products in hand, no matter what they looked like.

A workshop at the writers’ conference I attended recently reminded me of this.

In the workshop led by Cordelia Strube  we worked together to come up with a particular set of circumstances and characters, and then we each wrote individually for about 20 minutes. After the time was up we shared our work.

If there were 20 of us in the group, there were 20 completely different stories.

Once handed the common building materials, each of us scanned them to see what resonated with us individually. We attacked the story from starting points and viewpoints that felt right to us.

Writers in a workshop setting strive to be like those children doing crafts: honouring our artist souls and opening to inspiration, ideas and images, unimpeded by barriers and apprehensions. When we succeed at this, the work we come up with amazes us—shocks us, even—because it’s better than anything we could have foreseen in advance, with all our adult barriers in place.

When we get out of the way of our artist soul, the spirit of the work is good. True.

Astonishing, every time.