I know I was supposed to share a bit of writing today, but recently I got some devastating news. A very close friend of my family is very near the end of his fight with Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS),more commonly known as Lou Gherig's Disease.
Here is a good explanation of what the disease's course is. It's very factual and clinical. However as someone who has watched someone who is like a brother go through this illness, that description doesn't convey what happens; this video comes closest...
Metallica's One
I'm reevaluating some things in my life. At this point the most important thing is to be there for his family as well as mine. Our families are very close. My husband is hurting very deeply and although I haven't told the children yet (that will happen tonight) I know they will be very heartsick as well. I'm not planning to give up writing - I think I'll find that quite therapeutic - but I'm trying to release what I can so I can focus on what's important.
Wow, I thought it would take awhile before my baby blog got one, but get one I did! Thanks Magaly Guerrero of Pagan Culture for the nomination!
The way it works is I'm supposed to say 7 things about myself and then nominate 7 other blogs.
1.) The hubby and I are both foodies, but he is by far the better cook (my mother was too paranoid to let me do much in the kitchen).
2.) I took swim lessons awhile ago to overcome my fear of the water. They didn't really stick so well, but I tried.
3.) As a reward for trying, I signed up for bellydance classes at the local rec center. I've been doing that ever since.
4.) I experimented with all sorts of crazy products before I learned to love my hair and it's natural curls. Yep, that includes both Jheri Curl and relaxer.
5.) I've been out of the country 3 times. I've been to Peru, when I was little to meet some of my extended family. I went to England for a high school trip. I went to Bermuda with my husband's family to celebrate my in-law's 50th anniversary.
6.) My tea cupboard is terrifyingly out of control. It looks like a micro version of Horders. But I drink at least 2 cups of tea a day.
7.) I love to read to my children even though they are perfectly capable of reading on their own. I love to give each character a distinct "voice" when I do. The Harry Potter series was a very big challenge!
OK, so this is the part where I nominate 7 other blogs. Here goes:
The following is a bit of short fiction writing. Awhile ago my hubby challenged a few of his friends and I to create a story based on a two sentence opening he gave us. This was my response to that writing challenge.
Jared walked through the door and tossed his hat and coat on
the chair all the time watching Sophie. “My dear Sophie”, he said smiling, “put
the gun down.”
“You needn’t make fun,” she said scowling as she put the gun
on the rough hewn table. “A body cain’t be too careful around here after dark.
You said so yourself.”
“So I did, but what makes you think you can shoot that thing
straight?”
“I already told ya Jared! Before I left momma’s I shot one
of her bastard clients who was gettin’ too fresh. Shot him good and dead. Now
are ya gonna eat the stew I made or are you gonna just stand there grinning
like you’re simple in the head?” She put both hands on her hips, comically
reminding Jared of a half grown scarecrow.
“Alright, alright. But if you really want to learn to use
that thing at least let me teach you to aim it right. Maybe we’ll try
tomorrow.”
Sophie grunted, turning towards the oven and running her
hand through hair that was more dirty than blonde. She muttered something about
not needing to learn anything, but Jared decided it was better to sit and eat
than debate the point further. He watched the girl carefully ladle the stew
into two bowls. She placed one in front of him with a big grin.
“Go on try it. Jessina used to make big huge batches of this
for mamma and her girls when it got to be cold out. It was always my favorite.”
Jared sipped what he supposed was some sort of vegetable
barley stew. He had worse, he decided taking another careful sip. Sophie’s head
was bent right over her bowl shoveling spoonful after spoonful in her mouth. He
couldn’t help his amusement. For a girl who supposedly grew up in one of St.
Louis’ finer brothels, she had the manners of a stable hand. You would have thought she’d learn some sort
of etiquette or other womanly charms, he mused. When she felt disposed to
talk about it at all, Sophie would say that her mother was a renowned beauty,
using the money she had gotten from wealthy clients to start her own place.
I guess she never got
any of her mother’s looks either, he thought. Sophie was a runty child, all knees and
elbows with short hair that looked like she cut it with jagged glass. Her
aversion to soap and water didn’t improve matters either. They made an odd
paring, he with his Paris styled suits and her with grubbiness.
Jared found her about a month ago, scrapping with a group of
boys in an alley. From what he could see, she put up a good fight, but at any
moment she’d slip up and it’d be over. Besides, he recognized the malicious
gleam in one of the older boy’s eyes and doubted she’d get out with only a
beating. He stepped in, driving them off. Even in her half beaten state, Sophie
said that she owed him fair and square for helping her out. “Not that I
couldn’t handled myself anyway, but I pay my debts,” she said. She offered to
work off her debt to him as a sort of valet, provided he “didn’t try no funny
stuff.” Sometimes he wondered why he ever agreed to such an arrangement.
That’s not true,
he thought. I know exactly why. Anna
would be about the same age now if she lived. He looked down at his left
hand. The twin of the solid gold band he wore was buried six feet under a plain
in Illinois. He pushed the thought from his mind. No point dwelling on what
can’t be changed.
The sound of Sophie’s chair scratching against the floor
broke him out of his revere. She made a beeline for the stove to get a second
helping of stew, chattering happily. “I’ll bet Jessina couldn’t done no better.
And this isn’t a bad little stove. You sure are lucky you’re friends with the
sheriff an’ he let us stay in this place.”
“Well, it isn’t exactly for free. Sheriff Harlow expects me
to put some work into this house. He wants it to be in good shape for when his
brother moves out here with his family next spring.”
Jared remembered his old friend’s words. “It’ll be good for
you, some honest work as opposed to gambling. You used to be a fair hand at
fixing things if I recall correctly. And you’d really be helping me out.”
Ruefully, Jared thought gambling was much luckier for him
than a simple life as a farmer with a steady home. But Jake Harlow had been one
of his best friends, and he thought maybe he could find a stable place for
Sophie too. A nice family with a mother and a father that didn’t mind her
roughness and appreciated her hard work. He broached the subject to Sophie, but
she adamantly rejected it. “Thanks, but no thanks Jared. I’m gonna try an’ find
my pa. Mamma said he was some sort of chief among the Lakota.” And then she’d
babble off everything she knew about the Lakota Indians, never mind that her
source of facts were cheap dime novels.
Jared noticed a bit of chill in the air. “Sophie, I think
it’s going to be a cold one tonight. Do you think you could bring in some wood
from the woodpile before you sit down again?”
“Course Jared. I’ll be right back.”
She hadn’t been gone less than a minute when the front door
burst open. Jared recognized the intruders as Eddie Jenkins, and one of his
boys. Both had their guns aimed right at him.
“Hello Eddie,” Jared said casually. “To what do I owe this
social call?”
“You know exactly why I’m here. You cheated me at cards
earlier this evening and I want my money back!”
“If you’ve got a problem with me, why don’t you bring it up
to the sheriff?”
“Everyone knows you and he are friends!”
Before Jared could reply the back door opened. Another of
Jenkin’s goons shoved a pale looking Sophie in front of him. “Look what I found
out back boss.”
Eddie smirked. “Ain’t she a bit young for you Jared?”
“She ain’t too young for me Eddie,” the first thug said.
Jared snorted, “You can do what you’d like with the girl.”
Ignoring Sophie’s stricken face he went on. “She doesn’t mean anything to me
other than another mouth to feed. But I think you and your boys can find
something that better resembles a woman over at Flo’s. Why don’t you just let
her go while we discuss this like gentlemen?”
“And have her run and tell the sheriff? I don’t think so. I
want my money Jared!”
“I’ll tell you where it is,” Sophie burst in. “If I don’t
mean anything to him, he don’t mean anything to me either. Take me to the
Lakota reservation and I’ll show you right now where to find the money.”
“How about you show me where the money’s hid and I don’t let
my men take a poke at you, runt.”
Sniffling, Sophie meekly went to the back door with Jenkins
right behind her. “You two watch him and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.” The
two men sat down across from Jared, guns pointed at him the whole while.
Jared scanned the room with his gambler’s eyes, trying to
see if there was anything within reach
he could use as a weapon. There was a solid iron poker he might get to, but he
couldn’t make a grab for it without Jenkins’ boys noticing.
Suddenly a scream came from out back, followed by the sound
of one shot, then another. Both men lowered their weapons just a bit as their
heads turned towards the back door. Jared grabbed the poker and struck one
squarely on the temple. The man slumped right onto his friend who let off a
shot into the table. Snatching the gun
from the unconscious man’s hand, Jared rolled out of the line of fire of the
second thug. Cursing, the thug shoved the limp form off of him, standing up.
Jared shot him squarely in the stomach.
“Jared!” Sophie screamed running through the back door,
holding a gun in her right hand.
“Fool girl,” Jared swore as he embraced her. “What if one of
those two was still alive? You could have gotten shot.” He looked down at the
girl and realized there wasn’t a mark on her. “What happened to Eddie?”
“Dead, I think. I took him to the old tree stump, where the
mamma raccoon’s been hiding out with her little ones. He stuck his hand in and
she must have bitten and scratched him up good. He dropped the gun an’ I picked
it up an’ I…” she started to tremble.
“It’s OK Sophie,” Jared said stroking her hair.
“I’m sorry I lied about killin’ someone before. I did shoot
at the fella’ who was getting fresh, but I only got his foot. I was so scairt
by what I done, I just dropped the gun and ran. I ran and I never went back.
I’m sorry I told such a terrible lie.”
“I think we’ve both told our share of lies tonight.”
Sophie gave a weak smile. “I knew you was lying about that
‘other mouth to feed’ stuff.”
So I've actually kept up a semblance of a blog for at least a couple of months now, even though I still don't think I've really found a good "voice" for it.
Is this a Pagan blog? There are so many great ones out there, who really needs another?
A random crap that happens in my life blog? I think I've ended up defaulting a lot of the time to this, but ultimately, that isn't what I was going for.
A writing blog? Well, I did start it as a place to experiment a bit with my writing, but I've been a bit shy about putting stuff out there. Part of me worries stuff I write will be just awful so I'll only end up embarrassing myself. The other part worries that if any of this is actually any good, some idiot will come along and steal it.
I shelved the question for a little bit by throwing myself into some long overdue basement renovation. I promised the kids ages ago this would get done and as August wound down, it seemed as good of a time as any. My mother made a huge fuss over it over course, as if I were single-handedly demolishing a square block in Center City Philly and then rebuilding skyscrapers from metal I had forged myself (well, the wall texture paint compound was kind of heavy for me to lift, I managed just fine). But there was something therapeutic about it; not just getting one long overdue project I had procrastinated on near completion but the creative process of painting the faux stone work (it's supposed to resemble a castle wall), of picking out the right decorations that have been gathering dust in our basement (sword replicas! coats of arms! fake torches! An Asian scroll!) and making something cozy from what had once been just another arachnid sanctuary (don't worry, said arachnids have been gently encouraged to skitter to the laundry room or discretely take shelter behind some of the second hand furniture that's been moved down there). I took a lot of joy in that creative process.
I know that when I finally get really going with one of the bigger writing projects I have in mind, I'll feel that same joy in creation. There is still the worry of "what if it sucks?" creeping around the back of my mind with writing that certainly wasn't involved in the basement project. Hell, if I just threw a TV and some folding chairs down there, my son would still use it to escape his sister for a bit - there was no way my "audience" would have hated the result. I suppose maybe the answer is to stop thinking of "audiences" and start thinking of what makes me happy.
The next two Fridays I'll be posting bits of short fiction I've written. These aren't anything fancy, but more like writing exercises I'm OK with having the general internet see. I'd love feedback on them if you get a moment.
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