Stopping to Smell the Roses

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My pause along the side of the road didn’t actually involve flowers. All the same, the analogy fits and I can’t resist sharing.

The other day I watched a hawk practically fall out of the sky. Without anyone driving behind me, I literally pulled the car over to see what the creature would do as it obviously alighted upon some prey.

Sure enough, the bird used its talons to strangle the life out of something. That sounds harsh, but the savage beauty completely captivated me.

As I stared the creature leaned back, lifted shoulders shifting its wings, and appeared for all the world like a person stomping on something. Then the bird used that wicked beak to lift the now-limp form, flipped it in the air, and swallowed the mole with one gulp.

Still with no cars coming up behind me, I nonetheless resumed my drive as the hawk took flight. We matched speed at around twenty-five miles per hour for several yards before the majestic creature settled on a perch, presumably to digest.

So, that was my minor brush with nature’s raw beauty. Have you seen anything amazing lately? I’d love to hear about it.

Show Instead of Tell

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I recently saw a close-up photograph of roses that allowed me to virtually smell their fragrance and feel the thick silk of their petals. At that moment, I realized it defines a goal for my writing.

When readers honor me with a read, I’d like to take them on a journey. I want him or her to smell the air and feel a lover’s touch as the page is turned. The notion hearkens back to the popular and wise adage to show the reader as opposed to telling.

While not as easy as it sounds, this is something to think about and something to work upon. Now, I’d better get back at it and try to improve my craft a little bit more.

Gearing Up for NaNoWriMo

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National Novel Writing Month sweeps in with the autumn air of November. Are you getting on board with this worldwide event? For the first time, having only heard of it last year, I’m jumping in feet first.

To help put participants in the right (write) frame of mind, regions are hosting all sorts of local events. I’m already looking forward to one this Thursday at a local library. It sounds like it has everything I need just in the title alone: The Courage to Write.

A gentleman by the name of Ralph Keyes will address many challenges. Among them is just sitting down and getting started. That’s the all-important first step. Then there’s looking within for ideas, confronting procrastination, and dealing with anxiety about the reaction of others to one’s work. The whole thing is supposed to be a lively, good humored presentation ending on a positive, motivational note. This sounds like just the ticket!

Are you inspired yet? Click on the link and read all about it. Better yet, join me and register today: NaNoWriMo Registration

It’s Sunny again!

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No, silly, not the weather!  (It’s Washington state, it’s NEVER sunny lol)  Here is the next (first?) chapter in the story I shared earlier this month.  Hope you enjoy!
When I woke up the next morning I was in bed with a handful of mostly naked men.  Considering that I felt fine and the men all seemed to be very good looking, I didn’t know if I should scream bloody murder or cry.  Or wake them up and beg them to make me scream.  While I was pondering these thoughts, one of the hotties wrapped an arm around me and snuggled up closer behind me.

“You freaking out?” he whispered in my ear.

Pretty good question, but I wasn’t sure of the answer myself.  I vaguely recalled being attacked by a wild animal, and woke up in a fantasy land of hot bodies.  Not an every day occurrence for me.  Was I dreaming? And if I was, did I really want to wake up?  If I’m not dreaming, what the hell could be going on?  Who were these people, and where was Bobby?

I settled with, “I still don’t know if this is a dream or not.”  

He gave one of those manly chuckles that sent hot breath skittering down the back of my neck, giving me shivers.  “Well, is it a good dream or a bad dream?”

I managed to twist in his arms so I could see his face.  It was a stern face, with disheveled brown hair and serious, deep brown eyes.  It was those serious eyes that made me think that this wasn’t a dream.  He was looking at me like I might freak out on him at any minute.  Like I might have a right to.

I eased back a bit, and that’s when I realized I was almost naked.

“Where are my clothes?  Where am I?  Why am I here?  Who are you?” I fired the questions at him as I began to panic.

He pulled me back in close to him and the hysteria disappeared.  I was suddenly calm and relaxed again.  That should freak me out.  Right? But he was so warm and I felt so good in his arms…

“My name is Justin, and you’re here in my cabin, still in the woods.  Your clothes were destroyed in the attack.”  He said it slowly and calmly, and I had to wonder if this wasn’t the first time he’d done this.  “Do you remember being in the woods early this morning?  Being attacked?”

“I was?  I mean, I vaguely remember hearing a growl and thinking it was a wolf, but it kind of blanks after that point,” the were brief flashes, memories of a ripping pain, but surely that was a dream right?  If I’d really been attacked by a wolf I’d be dead or in a hospital.  “You must have saved me, right?  I don’t know why I don’t remember, but that’s what happened?  You heard me scream and shot it? Was it really a wolf?” Then a really embarrassing thought, “Did I, uh, did I faint?  I swear I’ve never fainted in my life!”

The man had a pretty awesome laugh.  That he was laughing at me didn’t really seem to make a big difference.  Actually, since I’d buried my face in his oh-so-muscular chest in my embarrassment, I wasn’t really minding much of anything.

“Do you always ask so many questions?” he asked me, still chuckling a bit.

I mumbled into his chest, “Pretty much.”

“Well to answer your many questions…kinda, no, yes and no again,”  he answered with a slight smile before settling into his serious face again.  “You were attacked by a young wolf this morning.  He’d strayed a bit too far from the pack so we couldn’t reach him in time to prevent it.  I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t understand why he looked so guilty.  “It’s not like it’s your fault.  You aren’t exactly in charge of wild animals, Justin.”  

“Actually, honey, I am sort of in charge of the new wolves.  All alpha’s in the pack are expected to look after the new wolves and make sure things like this don’t happen,” as he said it he tenderly brushed my bangs back off my face.  That’s when I realized he was crazy.  

The sexy man I was in bed with actually thought he was a werewolf.

Opening a Door or Tripping Over a Threshold?

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Following a blog for several months, I’ve been living vicariously through a brave young woman’s move from England to Japan. She repeatedly states how much she loves living there and shares gorgeous images alongside enjoyable tell of her exploits.

The other day, however, I read the surprising news that she plans to return to Europe in spring when her current contract expires. Why? Because of the career she ultimately desires, which is the reason for this post.

Rather unsurprisingly, this person wishes to become a professional writer. While I, like her, currently receive a paycheck for less rewarding work, I don’t see any great advantage to finding employment in the publishing industry.

She does, and it’s apparently unlikely to happen for her in Japan. So, she intends to pack her bags and return to her English speaking homeland. This strikes me as an utterly misguided decision. Am I wrong?

Especially in the internet age, the point of leaving the home she loves is lost to me. Granted, this gal said that the grind of everyday existence dents into the adventures she foresaw. Still, even if she travels in the future, why uproot from a cherished land? Let me know what you think.

A Beautiful Book?

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Earlier this year I joined my first book club. I almost didn’t, because I primarily read to rest and relax at the end of the day, and I associate book clubs with “good” books. You know, the ones that make you think, that have a point to make.

This week I read The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards.
I came away from it with very mixed emotions. On the one hand, the writing is excellent. It creates very vivid, beautiful images for the reader. On the other hand, the book revolves around an action that is reprehensible on many levels. The characters are very fallible, very human, which as an author I recognize as an amazing achievement, and as a reader I can often find challenging to read.

So, do I love a book like this, or hate it? Is it a beautiful book, because the story is so exquisitely crafted? Or is it a terrible book, because so many of the characters behave badly?

Ultimately I believe there is a lot of be learned from a book like The Memory Keeper’s Daughter. As a writer I find myself inspired to push myself to choose my words as carefully as Edwards does, to bring images to life as successfully as she does. As a reader, it is a good reminder of how one decision can completely change your life.

I read, and write, for entertainment. I love telling characters’ stories and knowing that they’re basically going to end well. But I am thankful for my book club, too, for exposing me to beautiful books I would never have read otherwise.

What about you? What books challenge you as a reader or inspire you as a writer?