I like to participate in Writer's Island and Friday Fill-Ins. I keep a regular personal blog SMOOCHDOG and I have this writing blog. I have pretty much stopped participating in Thursday Thirteen because it is a list and no so much creative, at least for me. I have now started one more creative writing journey each week and it is...
The newly created blogFriday. Go on an check it out. A new word prompt each Friday and the first word is.....
START
I am starting blogFriday for the same reason I started Writer's Island and the same reason I became a member of writing.com because I want to write creatively. I want to learn how to be a better writer not to be famous or even to be paid (although that would be nice) but because I enjoy it.
I wish I had more time in my day for writing. I feel like I get up early to write before work, I write on my lunch hour and down time at work (shhhh) and I try to write or read other's writing for an hour in the evenings. Still I feel there is just not enough time.
Part of me wonders if starting another blog group/weekly prompt is a good idea. In addition to writing a post for these prompts and groups I also inevitably feel compelled to READ what others write. It is a great way to learn and a great way to get feedback as well as learn about other blogs. Some days I just wonder how many blogs I can handle knowing about. I love so many of them but because I am who I am I often feel compelled to "keep up" with all my blog reading. Yes, slightly obsessive compulsive.
Anyway for now, I am starting blogFriday.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Labrador Love (Contest entry)
~ written for a 55 word story contest at my online writing group ~ Update: I won 1st place for this!
Her feet were warm for the first time in days. The diabetes had finally affected the circulation in her lower body and she was scared. Luckily for her the warmth on her feet not only deferred the cold but her loneliness as well.
Her twelve year old Labrador sighed contentedly as he snuggled into her.
Her feet were warm for the first time in days. The diabetes had finally affected the circulation in her lower body and she was scared. Luckily for her the warmth on her feet not only deferred the cold but her loneliness as well.
Her twelve year old Labrador sighed contentedly as he snuggled into her.
Monday, September 17, 2007
The Gift
- personal reflection
~ written for Writer's Island
Haven't we all been given a gift at one time or another in our lives that we accepted politely and casually tossed aside not immediately recognizing its value? Maybe when we were kids it was the clothes that were given to us. More interested in the bells and whistles of toys, we never saw the value in the clothes; but we wore them until they were thread bare, which was usually long after the trendy toy was gone.
For me The Gift that I am continually given is The Gift of the here and now. The Gift of the Moment, and man oh man do I flitter that gift away without even appreciating it or realizing it. An afternoon off from work? I fill it with errands to run and chores to tend to. A rainy Sunday morning...well something must need to be done. I often wonder what would happen if I took those moments that are"given" to me and enjoyed them, enveloped myself in the power of free time. What if I went to the park across from my office and laid on my back and played the game where you guess what shape, animal or figure the clouds make. What would happen to me?
Truth be told I have no idea what would happen. I guess I would feel relaxed and enjoy myself but I have created myself into a Human-doing too often, instead of a Human-being. I will admit I am a Type A, slightly neurotic, increasingly chaotic person. I try, really I do, to sit, to be, to reflect. I guess as my Nana used to say, I just have "ants in my pants" so cliche I know. I run until I drop and then I sleep harder than a rock. There is no in between for me. I am either "here" or waiting to get "there" thus never cherishing and enjoying The Gift, the many gifts that come from the here and now.
[Author's Note: Here I find a quandary I started writing about The Gift of "the here and now" and then at this point I see that perhaps The Real Gift, or a secondary gift for me would be "finding the in between" but that feels more like a "goal" than a gift so I will leave this as is for now....but I am interested in thoughts......]
(c)Michelle S. 2007.
All Rights Reserved ~
Come check out other writers on Writer's Island or better yet, come on over and join the island!
* I consider this and most all of work here works in progress. I know there are several areas. All constructive feedback is welcome.
~ written for Writer's Island
Haven't we all been given a gift at one time or another in our lives that we accepted politely and casually tossed aside not immediately recognizing its value? Maybe when we were kids it was the clothes that were given to us. More interested in the bells and whistles of toys, we never saw the value in the clothes; but we wore them until they were thread bare, which was usually long after the trendy toy was gone.
For me The Gift that I am continually given is The Gift of the here and now. The Gift of the Moment, and man oh man do I flitter that gift away without even appreciating it or realizing it. An afternoon off from work? I fill it with errands to run and chores to tend to. A rainy Sunday morning...well something must need to be done. I often wonder what would happen if I took those moments that are"given" to me and enjoyed them, enveloped myself in the power of free time. What if I went to the park across from my office and laid on my back and played the game where you guess what shape, animal or figure the clouds make. What would happen to me?
Truth be told I have no idea what would happen. I guess I would feel relaxed and enjoy myself but I have created myself into a Human-doing too often, instead of a Human-being. I will admit I am a Type A, slightly neurotic, increasingly chaotic person. I try, really I do, to sit, to be, to reflect. I guess as my Nana used to say, I just have "ants in my pants" so cliche I know. I run until I drop and then I sleep harder than a rock. There is no in between for me. I am either "here" or waiting to get "there" thus never cherishing and enjoying The Gift, the many gifts that come from the here and now.
[Author's Note: Here I find a quandary I started writing about The Gift of "the here and now" and then at this point I see that perhaps The Real Gift, or a secondary gift for me would be "finding the in between" but that feels more like a "goal" than a gift so I will leave this as is for now....but I am interested in thoughts......]
(c)Michelle S. 2007.
All Rights Reserved ~
Come check out other writers on Writer's Island or better yet, come on over and join the island!
* I consider this and most all of work here works in progress. I know there are several areas. All constructive feedback is welcome.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Prompt: Red Wine
- fiction; this prompt came to me as I watched my sister-in-law have her first glass of wine a month after giving birth to her daughter, my niece.
I was glad for the rain. Initial plans cancelled; new ones in their place and I much preferred the coziness of this restaurant to the cold chilly stands of Fenway Park. It was nice to be out with my brother and sister-in-law for the first time since they became parents and we became "auntie" and "uncle".
The ambiance was perfect for wine, much better in fact than it was for my signature vodka tonic, or my husband's beer. She and my brother ordered Chianti and I watched them. Listening more than talking. She lifted the glass of red wine to her lips and immediately her face relaxed. She truly enjoyed this; the taste I imagine, but also the sense of something equivalent to a contented sigh, a reminder of the "before". The now was very different - the how of different not for me to describe as it is not my life.
It has been 10 months since she tasted the sharpness of the Chianti on her lips - an amazing 10 months. Together they had created life, nurtured and nourished a child inside of her and given birth. They worked well together on this new venture of parenthood but tonight they shared in the relaxation of the wine. Knowing the precious one was carefully being doted on by grandma.
They will now and forever always be mom and dad; but tonight they just enjoyed the red wine.
Copyright (c) 2007 Michelle S. - All Rights Reserved
I was glad for the rain. Initial plans cancelled; new ones in their place and I much preferred the coziness of this restaurant to the cold chilly stands of Fenway Park. It was nice to be out with my brother and sister-in-law for the first time since they became parents and we became "auntie" and "uncle".
The ambiance was perfect for wine, much better in fact than it was for my signature vodka tonic, or my husband's beer. She and my brother ordered Chianti and I watched them. Listening more than talking. She lifted the glass of red wine to her lips and immediately her face relaxed. She truly enjoyed this; the taste I imagine, but also the sense of something equivalent to a contented sigh, a reminder of the "before". The now was very different - the how of different not for me to describe as it is not my life.
It has been 10 months since she tasted the sharpness of the Chianti on her lips - an amazing 10 months. Together they had created life, nurtured and nourished a child inside of her and given birth. They worked well together on this new venture of parenthood but tonight they shared in the relaxation of the wine. Knowing the precious one was carefully being doted on by grandma.
They will now and forever always be mom and dad; but tonight they just enjoyed the red wine.
Copyright (c) 2007 Michelle S. - All Rights Reserved
Monday, September 10, 2007
My Imaginary Life
- fiction
Samantha dug her toes deeper into the sand and sipped again from the too hot cup of coffee she had poured moments before. She couldn't decide what smelled better, the fragrant aroma of the flavored coffee or the ocean. Maybe it was a combination of both.
In a million years she never thought she would have ever ended up here. It had been dream many times on the days when everything just seemed against her. "I just want to run away and open a coffee shop/bookstore on a beach where people can bring their dogs sit and read and have something to drink." The owner of the building was still waiting for the approval on the liquor license she had convinced him to get so they could stay open a later and have later night reading groups meet with wine and cheese, but for now the islanders seemed happy with the new addition. Many mornings they were sitting on the beach in front of her stoop before she even opened and many staying for hours, seemingly with no jobs to get to.
She was often reminded of the reality that she left back home whenever she looked at her dog Booker, a fitting name for someone who loved books with the passion she did. He was one of the few belonging that she fought long and hard for in the divorce. It was supposed to be easier - after all she had worked the many years that he was in school, but in the end it cumulated as many divorces do in a debate over who gets what,
"I want the new living room set and the oriental in the bedroom."
"Well you can have those things but I get the dog no question there."
"The dog?" he had shouted, "what the hell are you going to do with a dog on an ISLAND?"
"It doesn't matter Samantha shouted, I GET THE DOG."
In the end, Samantha got the dog. The dog and her books were all she ever really wanted, and her journals. To remind her that it wasn't all bad. To highlight to herself that she should have done this years ago but was too afraid, scared to leave the closeness of what she knew. Even though things never felt "quite right" it felt better than being alone and being close to her family was so comforting even though in some respects it made it harder to walk out the door.
Samantha and her husband set up some "non-negotaibles" for their marriage, things that once done would be the end of the marriage. While she thought silly to even need to mention at the time something nagged at her that it was necessary so they were verbalized. So when one day, ten years into their marriage Samantha came home to a flood of words trying to negotiate one of the non-negotiables, it was with extreme reserve and calm that she went upstairs packed a bag, leashed the dog and walked out the door. Her last words to her husband were, "Non-negotiable means you cannot negotiate, my love."
Nine months later Samantha finds herself absorbing the warm sun on her face, even though it was still chilly enough for a light sweater. She thinks back through the last nine months and realizes she is at peace with herself - perhaps for the first time ever. Her parents would be arriving in a few days to stay a week, and she was glad, leaving her family behind was so much harder than leaving her husband, but she needed to be away. She needed to prove to herself that she could do this in her way and so far she has.
In the past nine months she has found a place to live a small, garden apartment about 1/2 mile from the beach where the cafe is. At first the cafe was just looking for waitresses and she gladly took the position happy for the pay and the socialization it brought. Over the months she began bringing more and more of her books into the cafe and shelving them on the walls for people to read as they enjoyed their coffee. The books stayed at the cafe and many had 4 or 5 different bookmarks in them marking the spots of several different readers.
It wasn't until the third month that Edgar agreed to let her bring her dog to work "as long as he stays OUT OUT OUTside." It was a perfect arrangement. Two months later dogs were fully welcome and happily roamed about both inside and out while their owners relaxed and enjoyed themselves. Not one canine squabble had broken out in the entire time she had been there; it was almost as if the dogs were as relaxed in this haven as the humans were.
Some tourists stopped by now and again but mostly it was locals, many of them transplants like herself from another place and another time. She enjoyed the company of the natives and the simplicity of life on the island. She often wondered what the future would bring. At 36 she was pretty sure she was beyond meeting someone in time to have children but she had never been sure about that anyway. It was always either a financial impossibility or just as likely it was a chore she didn't want to take on, despite her love of children in general.
She worked hard at the cafe and by the seventh month Edgar had made her full time Manager of everything, and he was around only when he wanted to be or on her days off. He was fair to her and treated her well. Life was simple, she was content and she was peaceful. She was happy.
(c)Michelle S. 2007. All Rights Reserved
~ written for Writer's Island
* I consider this very much a work in progress. I know there are several areas I could develop more and make some smoother transitions. All constructive feedback is welcome.
Samantha dug her toes deeper into the sand and sipped again from the too hot cup of coffee she had poured moments before. She couldn't decide what smelled better, the fragrant aroma of the flavored coffee or the ocean. Maybe it was a combination of both.
In a million years she never thought she would have ever ended up here. It had been dream many times on the days when everything just seemed against her. "I just want to run away and open a coffee shop/bookstore on a beach where people can bring their dogs sit and read and have something to drink." The owner of the building was still waiting for the approval on the liquor license she had convinced him to get so they could stay open a later and have later night reading groups meet with wine and cheese, but for now the islanders seemed happy with the new addition. Many mornings they were sitting on the beach in front of her stoop before she even opened and many staying for hours, seemingly with no jobs to get to.
She was often reminded of the reality that she left back home whenever she looked at her dog Booker, a fitting name for someone who loved books with the passion she did. He was one of the few belonging that she fought long and hard for in the divorce. It was supposed to be easier - after all she had worked the many years that he was in school, but in the end it cumulated as many divorces do in a debate over who gets what,
"I want the new living room set and the oriental in the bedroom."
"Well you can have those things but I get the dog no question there."
"The dog?" he had shouted, "what the hell are you going to do with a dog on an ISLAND?"
"It doesn't matter Samantha shouted, I GET THE DOG."
In the end, Samantha got the dog. The dog and her books were all she ever really wanted, and her journals. To remind her that it wasn't all bad. To highlight to herself that she should have done this years ago but was too afraid, scared to leave the closeness of what she knew. Even though things never felt "quite right" it felt better than being alone and being close to her family was so comforting even though in some respects it made it harder to walk out the door.
Samantha and her husband set up some "non-negotaibles" for their marriage, things that once done would be the end of the marriage. While she thought silly to even need to mention at the time something nagged at her that it was necessary so they were verbalized. So when one day, ten years into their marriage Samantha came home to a flood of words trying to negotiate one of the non-negotiables, it was with extreme reserve and calm that she went upstairs packed a bag, leashed the dog and walked out the door. Her last words to her husband were, "Non-negotiable means you cannot negotiate, my love."
Nine months later Samantha finds herself absorbing the warm sun on her face, even though it was still chilly enough for a light sweater. She thinks back through the last nine months and realizes she is at peace with herself - perhaps for the first time ever. Her parents would be arriving in a few days to stay a week, and she was glad, leaving her family behind was so much harder than leaving her husband, but she needed to be away. She needed to prove to herself that she could do this in her way and so far she has.
In the past nine months she has found a place to live a small, garden apartment about 1/2 mile from the beach where the cafe is. At first the cafe was just looking for waitresses and she gladly took the position happy for the pay and the socialization it brought. Over the months she began bringing more and more of her books into the cafe and shelving them on the walls for people to read as they enjoyed their coffee. The books stayed at the cafe and many had 4 or 5 different bookmarks in them marking the spots of several different readers.
It wasn't until the third month that Edgar agreed to let her bring her dog to work "as long as he stays OUT OUT OUTside." It was a perfect arrangement. Two months later dogs were fully welcome and happily roamed about both inside and out while their owners relaxed and enjoyed themselves. Not one canine squabble had broken out in the entire time she had been there; it was almost as if the dogs were as relaxed in this haven as the humans were.
Some tourists stopped by now and again but mostly it was locals, many of them transplants like herself from another place and another time. She enjoyed the company of the natives and the simplicity of life on the island. She often wondered what the future would bring. At 36 she was pretty sure she was beyond meeting someone in time to have children but she had never been sure about that anyway. It was always either a financial impossibility or just as likely it was a chore she didn't want to take on, despite her love of children in general.
She worked hard at the cafe and by the seventh month Edgar had made her full time Manager of everything, and he was around only when he wanted to be or on her days off. He was fair to her and treated her well. Life was simple, she was content and she was peaceful. She was happy.
(c)Michelle S. 2007. All Rights Reserved
~ written for Writer's Island
* I consider this very much a work in progress. I know there are several areas I could develop more and make some smoother transitions. All constructive feedback is welcome.
Meaning in the Details
To feel security in another's arms.
To know one's independence.
To limit oneself for the betterment of another.
Two become one? One becomes part of another?
My sacrifices make me stronger.
Your acceptances make you smarter.
Together we will grow into a stronger smarter whole.
To focus on one thing with all that you know.
To maintain many things so the focus can occur.
The details are what make up life.
The details are what must be maintained.
The challenge is finding meaning in the details when the focus is not mine.
(c) Michelle S. 2007. All Rights Reserved
To know one's independence.
To limit oneself for the betterment of another.
Two become one? One becomes part of another?
My sacrifices make me stronger.
Your acceptances make you smarter.
Together we will grow into a stronger smarter whole.
To focus on one thing with all that you know.
To maintain many things so the focus can occur.
The details are what make up life.
The details are what must be maintained.
The challenge is finding meaning in the details when the focus is not mine.
(c) Michelle S. 2007. All Rights Reserved
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