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Archive for the ‘Creativity’ Category

My Mr. Fezziwig

The other day a friend asked me what my “dream job” would be. The phrase that leapt to mind was: independently wealthy, incredibly influential, international food critic.

Then I gave the question a little thought. What would be my dream job?

The fact that I did not pick my current job–Software Developer–was no great surprise. Neither was the fact that I did not choose any job I’ve had in the past. Some people may find pumping gas or running a web-press fulfilling, but I found the former stultifying and the latter terrifying.

Curiously, though, neither did I did not pick one of my current avocations, i.e., “Writer” or “Chef.”

For “Chef,” I know too well how much work and dedication that job really takes to make a living at it; I get enough of a workout just cooking for my small family. For the “Writer” job, well, let’s just say that I got close to that, know how unstable the industry is and how unreliable writing income can be; I just can’t put my family through that kind of financial and emotional stress year after year.

So, what would be my dream job? Eventually, I settled on three:

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The 53 StepsChange is not “good.” We just say that to put on a brave face. The fact is that change is neither inherently good or bad. Change, like the universe, is neutral.

Change just is.

There have been a lot of changes around my house in the last 24 months. In that time, my wife and I have lost three of our four parents. Big change. Also during this period my wife discovered Facebook and, as a result, our social circles have widened and multiplied. Change, also pretty big from my POV. And, for the past several months we’ve had a houseguest, a young person whose life blew up while visiting us, and whom we’re helping get reestablished. Epic change.

In other words, my home life, my level of social interaction, and my private world have all undergone dramatic and fundamental transformations. And it’s made me a bit stroppy.

Yes. Stroppy. Look it up. (more…)

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Reveal

hands reveal
ash-streaked eyes
smudged and sullen
like an old cloth
worn thin
wiping up
sooty tears

bluE eye by StopPanicIsJustMe

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Iris in RainI kneel in the dripping ivy. A trowel in one hand, my other is deep in the soil, searching for the dandelion’s root. The root twists and writhes beneath my fingers, wet and tough, unwilling.

The rain taps across my hat’s felted brim, caresses my steaming back with its cool touch. The spring day is cold, but my work keeps me warm.

The bite of woodsmoke reaches me. I lift my nose and scent the air. My breath comes out a mist.

I grimace as digits plunge farther down into the black loam. The earth envelopes my hand, its serenity infuses me, my worries leach away.

I am the root, now. I am the plant. I am the garden.

k

Pine Pollen

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I don’t have HBO, so I can only watch HBO’s Game of Thrones a decade or so after the premium class sees it. However, that has not saved me from seeing meme after meme based on the series, nor from having to wade through a sea of posts about how this was so good and that was so bad and–of course–how so many things were different than they were in the book.

Aficionados are terribly tempted to hold forth on the subject of their passion (and trust me, I do understand this temptation) but before you do so, before you post that screed on that critical aspect that HBO got wrong, there are three things you need to know: (more…)

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Captive SlavesI’ve never given much credence to results of “studies” on human social patterns. We’re just too complicated to fit into neat little boxes. However, the other day I learned of one such study which so accurately described me, I had to give it a closer look.

I mention this here because this is the sort of thing that can be used to add depth to the histories of families and characters in my writing.

The study was about birth order and the “middle child syndrome.” Now, “birth order” is not new to me; I heard about it a long time ago but never paid it any attention because, frankly, my family situation doesn’t really fit any common form.

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Over on Facebook, a reader mentioned a scene in FC:1 that she really liked. I like to investigate this sort of specific feedback–the good and the bad–to see what worked and what didn’t work for my readers.

I remembered the scene she mentioned in general, but not in detail. The main reason I wanted to investigate, though, was that her description of it as dialogue-free was not my recollection; I remembered it as being chatty to the extreme, as two swoony teenaged girls prattled on about how divine it was going to be to see Sarah Bernhardt on stage. (For those of you out of the 19th-century loop, Sarah Bernhardt was the Lady Gaga of her day.)

So, I pulled down my copy of The Year the Cloud Fell and tried to figure out what this reader had meant when she referred to the scene’s “shared communication and not a scrap of dialogue.

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