Frantic Scribbling

A while back, Natalie wrote a post in her own handwriting. This was a unique and clever idea and her writing was very neat and legible. Her post prompted a few others to do the same.

Which brings me to this post. If I were writing a personal letter, a quick note on a card or even a journal entry, my penmanship would be quite different than what you see here. I call this frantic scribbling. (If you have other ideas about what to call it, keep them to yourself.) :o)


You're probably wondering why I don't write on the computer since it's much easier to edit the work. I usually do. But when it comes to overcoming writer's block or difficulty organizing ideas on the computer screen (or in my head), I prefer to do things the old school way... with pen and paper.

You might also be wondering why I don't write in pencil so I can just erase what I want to change. There is a reason for that, too. Sometimes I write what comes to mind first, and then change it... ten times. In the end, I come back to the first idea I had. The problem with erasing or deleting is that I can't always remember what it was I wrote to start with (or the other nine edits in between). I find that my scratched out ideas/edits can be re-read and re-used if they work better than others I have come up with.

This particular work is the product of twenty minutes of fast and furious scribbling and it is FAR from finished. After I have composed the content, I will start rearranging so the rhymes will flow. I am careful with this part because it often ignites a whole new round of editing content. Once it's done, I will type it and save it on the computer with my other completed projects.

At some point, I will submit it for publishing. And then the process of editing will begin again. :o)

Tying Shoes

20,000 Feet Above the Earth

In-flight magazines are hardly worth the energy expended just taking them out of the pocket only millimeters away from your knees, but I got lucky this time. There on the cover was Ben Affleck looking up at me. Out of the bag came the sketchbook and charcoal pencil (I love working with charcoal- pencil or block). I decided to keep my tacky magazine as a reminder that inspiration can be found in unexpected and unusual places... even 20,000 feet above the earth.

Twenty Two Years Ago

Drawing was an emotional outlet for me when I was a child. Twenty two years ago, I had a sketchbook that I kept in the drawer of my grandmother's antique sewing table. I grew up and moved out- leaving the book behind. I served in the army, got married, had two children and moved on to other forms of artistic (and quite emotional) expression.

Years later, my mother gave me a birthday gift. She found my old sketchbook, cut out some of her favorites and had them framed for me. I was quite surprised that she had kept them for so long, and I was thankful because it rekindled the passion I had for drawing.

Sneaky Cat

Being the food, shelter and affection provider for five very... let's just say unique cats, I find absolute joy in the way this cat moves (seemingly without moving).

Slow Posting

I apologize to the one or two of you that actually read my blog for the delay between posts. As you can see, I have been giving it a major facelift. I am done for now, but as I learn more about editing HTML (which I am NOT fond of so far) I will add to, rearrange, and change the look of the blog during the times when I have nothing to say. (HA! I ALWAYS have something to say, but for now what I'm writing is not for posting.)

PS. Thanks to Kiersten for getting her background from the cutest blog on the block website. (I saw the ad on yours and found the two I used on their site.)

PSS. I figured out how to remove their little advertisement (or edit it) if you would like to know how. (I will be adding their tag/link back to my blog, but in a much cuter way.)

RE: Off The Writing Track

A Different World by Bucky Covington

Off The Writing Track

In response to Fear Itself:

My life growing up in rural Mississippi is something my children will never quite understand. My sister and I were always outside and never had fears of drive-by shootings, being kidnapped or anything of that sort.

I am currently raising my family in a very busy suburb in Phoenix. While I want more than anything to keep my children safe, I also believe that some things in life just have to be experienced.

My sons are teenagers now and I tell them to "go play outside" at least a few times a week. I expect them to walk to their friends' homes a few blocks away, to the park down our street or to go climb the mountain about a mile from our home. I also expect them to return safely. My daughter, however, is five and lives by different rules (just as my sons did when they were younger).

I try not to let the media influence my decisions as a parent, but the fact of the matter is that three child molesters live within ten miles of my home. That would be unheard of twenty five years ago in the small town I lived in, but it's about average for a big city. (Trust me, I checked the crime statistics when looking for a home.)

While I may have some media-induced, irrational fears, I still believe that children need to be children. If I rob them of all the life experiences that taught me, that gave me the grit to know what in life is worth fighting for, it would be a great disservice to them. So, as a mother of three, I will push my fears aside and send my children to "go play outside."

Mumble Jumble In My Brain (And On Paper!)

So what do you do when you have a million ideas spinning around in your head but can't get them out?!?

A few weeks ago, I uncovered an incredible inspiration that brought about a flood of ideas. Since then, I've started about five children's stories and six feature articles (with many more ideas listed in my little red notebook).

I've dealt with what people refer to as writer's block before. This is something I can work through. I simply force myself to freewrite. After a page or two of scattered thoughts and assorted ramblings, the clutter from my mind starts to clear and the words begin to pour out... coherently. What's left is a very detailed and organized article or story.

This has been my method for many years. These past two weeks, it appears, I am in need of a new method. Freewriting only led me to about eight pages of story starts, or middles, or outlines that, for some unknown reason, I am unable to complete.

I have so much going on in my mind and I've put as much as I can make sense of onto paper. Now what?

How have some of you overcome being 'stuck'? (Natalie, this obviously does not apply to you recently!) :o)

Stirred Memories

The rediscovery of my Lowly Worm Word Book led me down Memory Lane (this is referred to as if it were an actual road on a map). In reality, my "Memory Lane" is called 8th Street or simply 'the strip.'

It began at the Sonic Drive-in and ended at College Park (a shopping center near the community college). It was THE place to cruise back in high school. All along this nearly one mile strip, kids would hang out in various parking lots. Each clique- defined by school, social status, financial status, interests, etc.- had their own place.

Lowly Worm was like an undersea earthquake that initiated a tsunami of memories. Remembering the 'strip' was only the first wave. The rush that followed was almost overwhelming. One of the waves that hit me with great force was Duke. Such wonderful memories.

Let me tell you a little about Duke.