Puttering Along

First of all, I would like to announce that I iz a winner! I placed second in a poetry contest I entered a few weeks ago. The prize is $15.00, which is the first money I’ve ever received for any of my work. Suddenly, I get the urge to start submitting more of my poems. :-)

Writing-wise, yesterday was not a bad day. Not a great day, but not bad. I got a rather late start and then I got distracted a couple of times, but I still managed to start a few things, even if I didn’t manage to finish them. I started a spring-time poem for last week’s writing prompt on Poetic Asides, I started going through my collection of short stories with an eye to improving them and picked one to work on (and because most of these were written before I had a computer, I had to type it out too), and I started a poem for submission to an anthology.

When the poem started giving me a headache, I took a break and went over to Absolute Write for a while. The usual threads I visit weren’t all that interesting, so I started visiting a few of the other threads I’ve been ignoring, which is where I found out about the anthology.

I’ve decided that updating my blogs counts as writing, even though I won’t count it in my daily total (when I’m keeping track). It’s writing, sometimes it’s very creative writing, especially when there’s not much going on and I want to try and sound like my life is interesting. :-)

Today I’ll be working on my poems some more, working on the short story with an eye to submitting it, and working on Driving Into Forever (hopefully). Got lots to be writing, I just need to get to it.

All Is Write . . .

Yes, my friends. I have my lap top back. All is right with the world again. :-)

This post is appearing much later in the day than usual, isn’t it? Well, that’s because I’ve decided to encourage myself to get up earlier in the morning by not engaging the scheduling option for my blog posts (you know, where you can write the post the day before and then schedule it to appear at a specific time/date). I updated my other blog first, and then I started to update this one before I remembered I had to run up to the mall. Then I had lunch, then I remembered I still hadn’t updated this blog. Hopefully I’ll be earlier tomorrow.

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So much for last week’s goals. Did not make my word count obviously, nor did I get my poem written, though I did get a start on it. Since this is my last week before school starts I think I’ll keep my goal simple: more writing and less time-wasting.

One good thing about the lap top not working was that I broke my game-playing habit. After the first day, I didn’t even miss the games. And I also got in the habit of working in my office again, which is also a good thing. Well, mostly a good thing. The leaves are starting to come out on the trees again so the view from the window has improved. However, to see out the window I still have to look at the junk that’s piled up in one corner (two boxes of useless computer parts and a couple of pillows) and the bags of books sitting in the other corner.

The good points about my home office:
** It has a proper desk to sit the lap top on
** I’m surrounded by my books and other writerly stuff
** I can print stuff out if I need to
** The fountain in the dining room is a soothing noise rather than something akin to the Chinese water torture

The bad points about my home office:
** It’s messy and cluttered
** Can’t watch T.V.
** There’s a kitty litter pan just outside the door and every once in a while one of the cats drops a stink bomb

And seriously? The bad points really don’t have a lot of substance. The mess and clutter can be cleaned up, television is distracting, and soon it’ll be warm enough that I can have the window open for some fresh air.

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Though I got my lap top back on Friday, I didn’t really do anything with it until this morning because we were in Hamilton all weekend. I took a couple of notebooks with me but was too busy to get any real writing done, although I did manage to jot down a couple of ideas for poems.

We gave a ride to a friend of the husband (the guys were going to Hamilton for a two-day bowling tournament, I was going for the shopping) and this guy happens to write poetry. We chatted about poetry on the trip up and he invited me to the next meeting of the local poetry group he belongs to. They only meet once a month, but it’s something to look forward to.

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This hasn’t been a very writerly post, but then I haven’t been very writerly the last couple of days. Guess I’d better go take care of that so I have something to blog about tomorrow. ;-)

Creative Friday

It was tempting to give Creative Friday a pass because my lap top is still under the care of the computer doctor. That's not to say I haven't been doing any writing, I just haven't been writing on the computer.

The desk top computer I'm using right now is not my friend. There's something wrong with the refresh rate on the monitor because I can only look at it for so long before my eyes go buggy and I start getting a headache, and the mouse . . . *sigh* you have to click the mouse button in just the right way or it either works too well (like instead of opening one window it opens three) or it doesn't work at all. And forget trying to copy/paste from a document! I learned that when I tried to post a poem over on the Poetic Asides site.

Anyway, today's story is just a short one I wrote based on a local legend. There is a cemetery on Beagle Club Road in the Northumberland forest, and Willie and his mother are buried together near the tree. There's more written on the headstone, but I've always been too chicken to go back to find out what. Something bad might happen if I do. :-)

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The Legend of Weird Willie

"Oh children now as you pass by
Repent in time for you must die
Heed this rhyme no time delay
For I in my prime have passed away."

So it says on the grave stone for the one known only as Weird Willie. Legend has it that if you pass by his grave at midnight, or if you visit his grave but three times, then you will join him in eternity.

The stars do not shine above the graveyard where Weird Willie lies. Nor do insects enter the boundaries or birds fly over it. Your flashlight will only work for as long as it takes to read the tombstone, then you will be left in total darkness . . .

Weird Willie, to the best of anyone's recollection, was a half-breed Indian. He lived with his ma in a shack at the edge of the highway. He didn't have much schooling, spent most of his days fetching and carrying for his ma. She was something of an herb woman. Knew all sorts of cures and such made from plants.

Saturday nights would find Willie sitting on the rickety old front porch, with his ma in her rocking chair, watching the cars go by on the highway. Willie's ma ruled him with an iron glove. She loved her boy, didn't want him to come to no harm. Just so long as she was alive she'd see to that.

Now Willie had a secret, a secret that not even his ma knew about. He and the neighbor's girl up the highway had been keeping company. Someday, Willie figured, he'd make her his wife.

Well, Willie's ma got wind of what was going on, secrets don't last long round these parts, and she didn't say a word. They just sat there that next Saturday, her in her rocking chair and Willie sitting beside her, and they watched the cars going by. She didn't even say anything that week when Willie was too busy with his girl to fetch her some plants from the woods.

But next thing you know, Willie's ma ups and invites his girl to come visit. It's a real shame, she told the girl, that Willie has to be working, but no reason you and I can't get acquainted. So Willie's girl comes over to visit and Willie's ma makes her a cup of tea and serves her up a piece of her famous cherry pie.

That night Willie's girl took sick. Died the next morning.

Willie, he didn't say a word. Walked into town and got himself a bottle of whiskey. Took him the better part of the day to drink it all, out there in the woods all by his lonesome. He staggered on home 'round about sunset and his ma was sitting on the porch in her rocker. Willie went on into the house and came back with his shotgun. Before his ma knew what he was up to he short her right through the heart. Folks say they could hear his wild laughter ringing through the woods as he started taking pot shots at the cars going by on the highway.

Next morning, when everything was quiet, they found Willie's ma, still in her rocking chair, dead as a stone. They didn't find Willie until later, hanging from the tree in the graveyard where his sweetheart was buried.

They say on a clear night, but only on a Saturday night, you can still hear Willie's laughter rining through the woods, and if you're not careful, you might hear the sound of his shotgun. The last sound you'll ever hear.

Wicked Wednesday

No whimsy today, I'm afraid.

My precious lap top caught the swine flu last night (AKA a virus of epic proportions). It had a melt down, taking the posts I had created for my two blogs, plus the last two days worth of writing with it.

Could have been worse. At least I backed up all my important files a couple of days ago, so I haven't lost everything. But the one thing I didn't think to back up were my bookmarks. And I had a bunch of stuff saved in my outlook express.

*sigh* Isn't technology wonderful?

I feel so lost without my bookmarks. . . . How will I know what blogs to surf to without my bookmarks?

Okay, time to channel my cognative therapy. Look for the good in the bad. Hmm. Well, at least I have the desk top computer, clunky as it is (nothing a new mouse, keyboard and monitor wouldn't fix). Umm, what else? It'll force me to start working in my office . . . although I spent most of yesterday working in here writing those two super duper posts that are now lost forever!

This isn't working. Excuse me while I go curl up in a corner and whimper.

Humdrum Tuesday

Is humdrum supposed to be one word or two? Meh, guess it doesn't really matter.

I’m bored. The lazy-itis of Sunday has settled in for a visit. This is not good. Don’t feel like reading, don’t feel like writing . . . . certainly don’t feel like doing any of the million other constructive things I could be doing. It’s just one of those moods I have to acknowledge and hope it moves on.

Not surprisingly, yesterday was a struggle, as far as writing went. I fell short of my goal by about 300 words. I’d like to think I’ll make it up today, but I’m not making any promises. The weather has turned dismal and we all know what that does to my ambition.

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I had coffee with a friend last week and I was telling her about the PAD Challenge and she asked: “So what do you get if you finish?” The question took me by surprise because she’s a writer too (though not of poetry) and I figured she’d understand.

I found myself on the defensive, pointing out the best poems would be published in an e-book and someone would be chosen Poet Laureate of the Poetic Asides site for a year. She seemed satisfied with my answer but it took the chance of being published to justify it to her.

As much as I whined about some of the prompts, I really enjoyed the challenge. I revitalized myself as a poet and stretched myself as a writer. What did I gain? How about thirty new poems to add to my repertoire and countless new insights to apply to my other writing. It encouraged me to start critiquing poems on the AW poetry forum. It gave me the courage to submit my poem to a contest where I won fifth place.

Of course this is the friend who doesn’t understand why I do the NaNoWriMo challenge every year either. ;-)

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I think if the writing doesn’t go well today I’m going to try cleaning up my office and go back to writing in there. It’s a little too comfortable in the living room, which is where I’ve been writing. Not that I need to be uncomfortable to be able to write, but what’s the point of having a home office if I never use it?

Okay, let’s be honest here. The reason I’ve been avoiding my office is because of all the junk that’s been piling up in it. I’ve got papers and bills and books stacked all over the place, most of them covered with cat hair. Cleaning it up is one of those tasks I always put off and the sad part is it probably isn’t as onerous a task as I think it will be.

Apres Weekend

I did a silly thing over the weekend. I hurt my shoulder.

As much as I’d like to say I did it gardening, ‘cause I did spend some time out in the garden on Saturday, that’s not what happened. What happened was the two day book sale at St. Peter’s Church. Yes, that’s right. I hurt my shoulder carrying copious amounts of books to my car.

I bought some reference books, a few novels, and even a couple of books of poetry. I even bought an "Absolute Beginner's Guide to Computers" for my sister, who's technologically challenged (she was afraid to use MSN messenger because it said "Live Messenger" and she didn't want to be live on the internet). I bought so many books I haven't even had a chance to go through them all yet. Lord only knows where I'm going to put them!

I confess. I’m a book-a-holic. And proud of it!

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Even though I don’t usually post to my blogs on the weekend, I do still try to get some writing done. My focus kind of narrowed to poetry while I was doing the PAD challenge, and I neglected my fiction writing shamefully.

To be honest, I didn’t get as much accomplished as I hoped to, writing wise, this weekend and I really have no one to blame but myself. Saturday I kept letting myself be distracted by other things and Sunday I had an attack of lazy-itis.

So late Sunday night I decided that what I need, though I hated to admit it, are goals. I’ve been talking about them, I’ve been reading about them. Time to start setting them. So, here they are:

Daily goal: 2,000 words (blogging and letter writing do not count)
Weekly goal: 1 new poem (if I can do a poem a day for a month, a poem a week, to keep my hand in, should be a piece of cake)
Monthly goal: submit no less than one piece of work (probably poetry)

Yeah, I know it’s not much, but it’s a start. Sometime I’ll add an editing goal in there but right now I’d like to focus on the word count. I’d also like to dust off my short story files. I’ve got a lot of stories tucked away and some of them aren’t too bad. I’ve grown a lot as a writer since I last took a look at them, it will be interesting to see what I make of them now.

Creative Friday

Big sigh of relief - I’ve completed the poetry challenge.

As I’ve said before, some days were more challenging than others, but all in all I enjoyed the challenge. It let me flex my poetry muscles and it rejuvenated my creativity. I don’t envy Robert Brewer the challenge of having to choose the winners for each day.

Some industrious soul created a tool that can be used to track your poems, but unfortunately all I was able to get it to do for me was tell me I had 29 poems posted, which in retrospect didn’t surprise me because some days it took several attempts to get a poem to post. But it meant, you guessed it, I had to go through each and every day to make sure my poem was there.

I spent seven (7!) hours scrolling through each day’s poems. All my poems were there. The only good thing about it was catching the odd flattering comment about one of my poems. If I take the challenge next year, I will not only save each day’s poem, I will record the day and time I posted it as well so it’s easier to check.

And now, a selection of my remaining PAD poems.

Day Twenty-two we were to write a work related poem:

Laid Off

I owe, I owe, it’s off to work I go.
I’ve heard this many times you know.
But right now I am unemployed
which really makes me quite annoyed.
The bills are piling super fast,
it’s crazy how much debt’s amassed.
My unemployment cheque’s a joke
I’m teetering on the edge of broke.
Jobs are scarce, so what to do?
Looks like I’m going back to school
and when I’m done I’ll find some work,
I hope a job with lots of perks.

Day Twenty-five the challenge was to write about an event. I chose the event I look forward to every year. Once which, coincidentally, is today. ;-)

Saint Peter’s Book Sale

I wait through winter dark
anticipating spring
I watch the ice recede,
leftover snow melting.
The days extend their length
the sun stays in the sky
the wind warms up the air
we bid the cold goodbye.
But for me the greatest sign
of spring is without fail
the lawn sign that proclaims
Saint Peter’s Book Sale.

Day twenty-eight (as I've already whined about) was the sestina.

Drinking Down the Moon

the night wind holds my spirit
as I drink down the moon
bathed in shards of light
with memory and dream
unleashing deep desires
of perfect inner silence

I revel in the silence
of a buoyancy of spirit
while fire burns my desires
still haunted by the moon
deep within a dream
becoming purest light

splinters, fragmented light
shivers in the silence
waking from the dream
with a longing of the spirit
worshiping the moon
as destiny desires

I follow my desires
they lead me to the light
in the shadow of the moon
where everything is silence
and hollow is the spirit
within the waking dream

embrace the way, the dream
fulfilling all desires
unfettering the spirit
and encompassing the light
where all around is silence
at peace to seek the moon

the dark night of the moon
illuminates the dream
while a symphony of silence
suppresses dark desires
with strands of silver light
spilling into spirit

I call the spirit of the moon
drenched in the light of a dream
suppressed desires wake in silence


And last but not least, Day Thirty, which was a poem about a farewell. An image popped into my head when I read this prompt. It was the final scene from a movie and since I couldn't shake it I decided to write a poem about it. See if you can guess which movie it was and you can win a copy of the anthology Hotter Than Hell, edited by Kim Harrison. Twelve stories of the paranormal featuring such authors as Kerri Arthur, L.A. Banks, Susan Krinard, and Marjorie M. Lui. Post your guess in a comment or shoot me off an e-mail. I'll leave the contest open until I go back to school on the 18th.

I'll even give you a hint. It's a science fiction movie.

Ending

I faced my mortality
with no prospect of
a future.

I sought the answer
to the question
no one asks.

I tried to escape
my destiny
in dreams.

I ran from the truth
until exhaustion
claimed me.

I let fate embrace me
because it was my
time to die.


Hope everyone has a great weekend! I can tell you the one thing I won't be doing, and that's reading poetry!