I began this blog five months ago with a specific goal. To "put it all out there." To unleash all that was forcibly contained within. Truthfully, I had no plan, no intention. Since the time I originated goal, I have become aware of my intention--to write--to focus on producing. I'm still contemplating and studying vehicles of book, script, or whatever.
I'm not one who needs structure nor schedule. Should the day arrive that I need to produce according to structure or schedule, THEN is when I'll be concerned about those beasts. And to me, they are beasts. For the time being, I wish for more time to write and will be focusing efforts to accommodate that wish. To that end, I have decided to abandon my photography business at the end of this year. (Note...starving artist sale is going on NOW at my fulfillment site -- so anybody who may care, please consider purchasing a print. As sales occur, I may be able to maintain that site for the rest of the year (which would be nice).
So, as I have indulged myself with reading and/or following other blogs, most are so impressive, literate, informative, and/or inspiring, I realize that my little blog is purely my indulgence of self. I am considering presenting a "real" blog, one that would be more suitable to my professional goals. So, if you visit me here, know that this is my beginning, my introduction to this world of expression and sharing, my personal indulgence. When the face I need to project requires more sophistication and professionalism, then I will worry about the content and presentation. For now, you may choose to join my meanderings and my whims, or not.
I often bring up my blog in a background window, insert my earbuds, and work away at whatever project requiring my attention and intention. Sometimes, like now, I even take the time to add a new post on whim. After all, this is my little indulgence. You are welcome to join me...or not. Either way--be blessed.
And thanks for popping in!
Digital Photography and Art by DiDi Hendley. Now...Words.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
A Cozy Corner in Virginia Beach
One of my most cherished Twitter Tutor/Writer/Friend is Lisa Rivero, and her Blog post today mentioned an announcement by writer Michelle Johnson’s journey toward opening a book store!
First and foremost, congratulations Michelle! What a wonderful business venture, and I wish you great success! Your plans sound wonderful--I only wish I lived near Virginia Beach! Many days I could use a cozy corner writing respite -- away from normal distractions, to really let the muse chat me up.
I've only been writing (officially) since April, so I haven't even read 10 books on writing to suggest to you...but I'm currently reading Elizabeth Berg's "Escaping into the Open" and just started The Passionate Writer chapter--which I can tell is going to be a tremendous help to me. Ms. Berg was the keynote for a writer's workshop sponsored by the Hub City Writer's Project in Spartanburg, SC that I recently attended. While her writing style is very different from mine, I am truly enjoying "Escaping into the Open."
In my first WIP Whirlwind Love, a friend shared with me that she felt left behind in the love scenes. I admit that I take the reader there--and then walk away. Feels a lot like peeking into someone's window for me...lol. I'm hoping that the exercises in this chapter might help me move past that issue.
I also wanted to mention that it's because of music that I'm writing. So perhaps music is something to add as a secondary goal--it can be very inspirational to a writer. At the aforementioned conference, Jeremy L. C. Jones presented a session on Music and Writing--I could've sat in that session for the entire day, it was so fascinating. I thought about the ability to be introduced to music for inspiration based on other people's recommendations would be amazing. For instance, writing a scene of hard-hitting action--what music would inspire you? A love scene? I might choose the same music, but having a recommendation from another author on what inspires them could make an entirely different scene. Just a thought.
Looking forward to hearing more about your venture!
First and foremost, congratulations Michelle! What a wonderful business venture, and I wish you great success! Your plans sound wonderful--I only wish I lived near Virginia Beach! Many days I could use a cozy corner writing respite -- away from normal distractions, to really let the muse chat me up.
I've only been writing (officially) since April, so I haven't even read 10 books on writing to suggest to you...but I'm currently reading Elizabeth Berg's "Escaping into the Open" and just started The Passionate Writer chapter--which I can tell is going to be a tremendous help to me. Ms. Berg was the keynote for a writer's workshop sponsored by the Hub City Writer's Project in Spartanburg, SC that I recently attended. While her writing style is very different from mine, I am truly enjoying "Escaping into the Open."
In my first WIP Whirlwind Love, a friend shared with me that she felt left behind in the love scenes. I admit that I take the reader there--and then walk away. Feels a lot like peeking into someone's window for me...lol. I'm hoping that the exercises in this chapter might help me move past that issue.
I also wanted to mention that it's because of music that I'm writing. So perhaps music is something to add as a secondary goal--it can be very inspirational to a writer. At the aforementioned conference, Jeremy L. C. Jones presented a session on Music and Writing--I could've sat in that session for the entire day, it was so fascinating. I thought about the ability to be introduced to music for inspiration based on other people's recommendations would be amazing. For instance, writing a scene of hard-hitting action--what music would inspire you? A love scene? I might choose the same music, but having a recommendation from another author on what inspires them could make an entirely different scene. Just a thought.
Looking forward to hearing more about your venture!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Hub City Writers Project - Writing in Place 2010
Link to Hub City Writers Project - Writing in Place 2010
My Mother broke every dish in the house. There was no discernment of linoleum underneath the shattered glass and porcelain. As I stepped carefully into the kitchen, the shock washed through my core. Had I not known of the problem, I would have believed a tornado blew through the room. But the roof was intact...the episode was contained. My Father sat in the doorway to the dining room, desperately trying to sweep the pieces into the dustpan...to hide the pain. He had not yet seen me enter the room.
“Dad, I'll get that...” I tried to distract him, to ease his pain. With no acknowledgement, I repeated, “DAD, let me...” His pained expression told me what he could not.
“I didn't hear you come in,” he said softly. Struggling to stand, the determination of his effort was apparent. I looked around for something to clear a pathway through the chards, something to help me reach him...to comfort him. I grabbed an old mop that was hidden in the corner of the washroom. By the time I returned to push the shattered pieces aside, he had managed to pull himself to his feet. Instinctively I put my arms around his bent shoulders. When had he shrunk so? Why had I not noticed this before?
“Dad, let's go sit down for a bit. This mess will wait.”
Reluctantly, he leaned the broom against the door and walked into the den. Mom sat in her chair, chin against her chest as she slept. Dad watched her as we sat on the sofa. After a long while, he turned to me. “She said she didn't want anybody else's dishes in her house. I'm sorry, I know that your Grandmother's china was in the will for you. Mom really wanted you to have it.”
Dad lowered his head as the sorrow became overwhelming.
Looking painfully into my eyes, Dad added, “I think it's time. I've tried to avoid it, you know. Will you call....that place?” The tears that appeared in his eyes shattered my heart like the chards on the kitchen floor.
“Sure Dad, I'll take care of it. I'll take care of all of it.” I took his hand as we both turned to face Mom, soundly sleeping and unaware.
Unaware that she would never again have an afternoon nap in her recliner.
Never again sleep in the bed she shared with Dad for over sixty years.
Never again to live with the only man she'd ever loved.
# # #
This assignment wasn't read and didn't get a critique. Comment...if you'd like!
Class assignment-Day 2
Write a paragraph to a page with this as the first sentence:
“My Mother broke every dish in the house.“
My Mother broke every dish in the house. There was no discernment of linoleum underneath the shattered glass and porcelain. As I stepped carefully into the kitchen, the shock washed through my core. Had I not known of the problem, I would have believed a tornado blew through the room. But the roof was intact...the episode was contained. My Father sat in the doorway to the dining room, desperately trying to sweep the pieces into the dustpan...to hide the pain. He had not yet seen me enter the room.
“Dad, I'll get that...” I tried to distract him, to ease his pain. With no acknowledgement, I repeated, “DAD, let me...” His pained expression told me what he could not.
“I didn't hear you come in,” he said softly. Struggling to stand, the determination of his effort was apparent. I looked around for something to clear a pathway through the chards, something to help me reach him...to comfort him. I grabbed an old mop that was hidden in the corner of the washroom. By the time I returned to push the shattered pieces aside, he had managed to pull himself to his feet. Instinctively I put my arms around his bent shoulders. When had he shrunk so? Why had I not noticed this before?
“Dad, let's go sit down for a bit. This mess will wait.”
Reluctantly, he leaned the broom against the door and walked into the den. Mom sat in her chair, chin against her chest as she slept. Dad watched her as we sat on the sofa. After a long while, he turned to me. “She said she didn't want anybody else's dishes in her house. I'm sorry, I know that your Grandmother's china was in the will for you. Mom really wanted you to have it.”
Dad lowered his head as the sorrow became overwhelming.
Looking painfully into my eyes, Dad added, “I think it's time. I've tried to avoid it, you know. Will you call....that place?” The tears that appeared in his eyes shattered my heart like the chards on the kitchen floor.
“Sure Dad, I'll take care of it. I'll take care of all of it.” I took his hand as we both turned to face Mom, soundly sleeping and unaware.
Unaware that she would never again have an afternoon nap in her recliner.
Never again sleep in the bed she shared with Dad for over sixty years.
Never again to live with the only man she'd ever loved.
This assignment wasn't read and didn't get a critique. Comment...if you'd like!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Everyday Intensity: Day 11: Our Precious Imagination
I'm catching up...life's been intense lately (ha!). I agree with everything everyone has said in the comments for the day so far...this is definitely my favorite post as well (so far, anyway).
It would seem that among those participating in this project, I've seen evidence that some are or maybe were teachers. I think that people who are archetypally "teachers" can relate especially to such creative intensity. I believe it takes someone who can digest information and represent it with some flair, as well as comprehension, to engage learners.
My first "teaching" experience was age 7, when I helped a fellow classmate learn to read. I made a career of teaching people to use computers as an adult. I was always astounded when people would comment on my patience and ability to relay the information in ways they had never understood. I always loved seeing the 'lightbulbs' when people would understand. It didn't take long to realize that people learned by different means-some visually, some auditory, some just by doing. I believe the secret was to reach people how THEY needed to be reached, not how I wanted to teach them. I don't teach much these days, at least not in a formal manner. Somedays I miss it. But maybe they are just dark days when I really could use a lightbulb. :)
In Day 11 of the July Intensity Project, Lisa mentioned Michael Piechowski's work on Dabrowski’s theories “Mellow Out” They Say: If I Only Could: Intensities and Sensitivities of the Young and Bright," with exerpts of imagination manifestation that include "need for novelty and variety."
If I had only understood, say 30 years ago, that intensity (aka gifted, as you've pointed out to me-but thats never a term I would have deem myself worthy) was behind the need for novelty and variety--all those career experiences in my 20s would've made MUCH more sense! Maybe I wouldn't have been so hard on myself for the adventure!
Imaginary companions and dramatization, these have most recently become an obvious need to me. They were a part of my childhood, called upon when no one else was around for entertainment. I only this year have been greatly rewarded by allowing myself to "go there," dreaming, imagining, and writing about those other worlds, as well as the interesting (at least to me) people who live more intriguing lives, with more engaging things to say and do. I appreciate this more than I could have ever imagined possible. Every day I get to write, is a day I experience joy.
I only hope that someday there will be even more reward for those adventures--that I might be allowed to live THERE more often, and remove myself from this existence that suffers the bills, the schedules, the shopping (which I hate), the car repairs (or need thereof), the people who will never "get" me, etc.
It would seem that among those participating in this project, I've seen evidence that some are or maybe were teachers. I think that people who are archetypally "teachers" can relate especially to such creative intensity. I believe it takes someone who can digest information and represent it with some flair, as well as comprehension, to engage learners.
My first "teaching" experience was age 7, when I helped a fellow classmate learn to read. I made a career of teaching people to use computers as an adult. I was always astounded when people would comment on my patience and ability to relay the information in ways they had never understood. I always loved seeing the 'lightbulbs' when people would understand. It didn't take long to realize that people learned by different means-some visually, some auditory, some just by doing. I believe the secret was to reach people how THEY needed to be reached, not how I wanted to teach them. I don't teach much these days, at least not in a formal manner. Somedays I miss it. But maybe they are just dark days when I really could use a lightbulb. :)
In Day 11 of the July Intensity Project, Lisa mentioned Michael Piechowski's work on Dabrowski’s theories “Mellow Out” They Say: If I Only Could: Intensities and Sensitivities of the Young and Bright," with exerpts of imagination manifestation that include "need for novelty and variety."
If I had only understood, say 30 years ago, that intensity (aka gifted, as you've pointed out to me-but thats never a term I would have deem myself worthy) was behind the need for novelty and variety--all those career experiences in my 20s would've made MUCH more sense! Maybe I wouldn't have been so hard on myself for the adventure!
Imaginary companions and dramatization, these have most recently become an obvious need to me. They were a part of my childhood, called upon when no one else was around for entertainment. I only this year have been greatly rewarded by allowing myself to "go there," dreaming, imagining, and writing about those other worlds, as well as the interesting (at least to me) people who live more intriguing lives, with more engaging things to say and do. I appreciate this more than I could have ever imagined possible. Every day I get to write, is a day I experience joy.
I only hope that someday there will be even more reward for those adventures--that I might be allowed to live THERE more often, and remove myself from this existence that suffers the bills, the schedules, the shopping (which I hate), the car repairs (or need thereof), the people who will never "get" me, etc.
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