My Day? Mabee not…

Oh, today….

Yeah, it was Mother’s Day.  Mother’s Day would have been a lot nicer if it hadn’t involved most of the things I didn’t want to happen, happening.  It also would have been better with steak.  Instead it came with Chinese-American buffet food and an still unsatisfied craving for a Dunkin Donut’s Coffee Coolata (two days running…if I still want one tomorrow, I am getting a large).

The car worked though.  Counting my blessings.  The car worked, and I got a lot of hugs from the awesome people.  LOTS of hugs!

Traditional Devil's Food Birthday Cake

Oh…  pooh!  I guess it’s not that bad.  I just am frustrated with myself because I’m sunburned, migrainy and behind now on my stories for Story A Day.  I hate being behind on stories…

Yesterday we held the Boodle’s Birthday Party at Hoffman’s Playland.  I got no writing done.  My 750 words came out more a stream of consciousness garble that said nothing.  It certainly wasn’t a story.  The party was a huge success though.  Exhausting, but a lot of fun too.

Does anyone want any birthday cake?

And I’m still behind. I hate being behind.  Only by one story now, as I managed something in my 750words tonight.  So as you can see, all my goals for the ROW80 are moving along fairly well.  I am close to all caught up on all the check-ins.  I’ve got another fifteen minutes to finish the other story idea I have floating in my head.  I can be done by minute if I sign off now.

But allow me to share the story I did finish today.  I haven’t been doing much composing on the computer lately.  It’s nice to share something without “writing it twice”.  Handwriting stories does feel more natural, but typing things in all the time gets tired.

Card Play

Charlie knew…  He knew as soon as the card turned over what its image would be.  He knew all about the big losses he faced.   He’d been right the last three times.   He knew how much his wife would complain if Tina knew he was wasting money like this.  Spending money for an extra pack of cigarettes, a six-pack of store-brand soda or a new set of press-on nails…  Oh, she could see that.  Even when Tina was fretting over the lack of cash in the checking account, she had no problem spending cash on those.

“I work too, you know,” she’d say.  Her head would tip just that little way that he was so fond of.  “I know I don’t make nearly as much as you, but I need this things to keep me going each day.  You know how it is.”

Charlie did know how it was.  That’s why he was here, sitting across this large felt-covered table, a small stack of money–his money–now sitting at the elbow of the woman across from him.  She had been looking grimly at him, as if waiting for his approval to turn over the next card.  Not that she needed to hesitate…  Here she was in charge.  She held all the cards.

She held all the money too at the moment.

Charlie nibbled at his lip a little.  He wasn’t really that sure he wanted to see that card really.  How could so much depend on a little piece of paper, he wondered, not for the first time.  A little piece of paper…  He’d spent most of a day’s pay to watch and see the cards that turned up.  Was it his number?  Was hers?  How much would he have to apologize to his wife for this time?

The woman across the table flicked the corner of the card closest to her up so she could see the result.  Her lips pursed.  She’d done that the last time too.

He felt the blood drain from his face.  “Let’s see it,” Charlie croaked before he lost his nerve.

Dutifully, the woman eased the card over, revealing it’s face, and the crumbling Tower that filled it.

For those who know anything about tarot, the Tower Card is self-explanatory.  For those who do not, here is a nice, simple explanation of the meaning: http://www.tarotteachings.com/tower-tarot-card-meanings.html  This little story came out of a day dream I started having about my son and a small three card “reading” I did on him (yes, I had him do the cutting of the deck for this “Past Present Future” mini).   My son’s reading, fit him frighteningly well (all descriptions are made for the Thoth Deck since that is my main deck of use):

As any who know the Boodle in person can vouch, I don’t think I could have chosen better cards for him if I’d looked into the deck and picked the cards out by hand.  I’m reminded of why I’d stopped doing readings about 15 years ago.

Photo credit:

  • Traditional Devil’s Food Birthday Cake (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Green Tea and Five Sentences For Me

This time it's green tea.

Green Tea

Not only is Green Tea an awesome beverage, one that makes me think of times with my grandmother; it’s a presumed health drink.  Certainly my memory holds a healthy glow–sitting at one of Nanny’s kitchen tables and watching as she measured out the rolled dried leaves into a tea-pot.  She would have a pan of water heating on the stove and just before the water reached a boil, she would pour some over the dried leave, rinsing them.  This acrid water she disposed of  after swishing the pot once or twice to warm it a touch.  Then she would pour in the rest of the heated water, go get cups for us while it steeped, rinse them with other warmed water she had waiting .  Finally, she would bring the tea over to sit between us.  She never actually sat down.  My grandmother’s maiden name is Sparrow, and it suits the way she flutters about her kitchen even now almost into her 90th year.

The resulting drink would be a pale, crisp golden green, a touch sweet.  I remember not liking it at first, but wanting so much to be a “big girl”, I drank it readily.  I did not appreciate tea for years, even well after my grandmother could no longer enjoy the drink she prepared with such love.  A few small strokes and a prescription for Coumadin limited her chance to enjoy many of her favorite foods including green tea.

But this isn’t about my childhood memories or even the limitations of medication and diet.  It’s about a short story by the Irish writer Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu–or rather about my rediscovering Le Fanu’s writing.

“Green Tea” by Le Fanu turned up in the book (Dover Editions Great Irish Short Stories) I picked up for my #readsprint on Wednesday.  It had been quite literally over 30 years since I’d ever read anything by Le Fanu.  But, even so, I sensed something in “Green Tea”…  The name of the Dr.Hesselius.  It was warm and familiar.

Yes… “Warm and familiar” is an odd description for a story involving ghosts and paranormal destruction.

Turns out, Le Fanu also wrote my favorite vampire story “Carmilla”.  That story, that I’d read sometime around 4th grade, made enough of a mark on me that I drew upon it when I was in college.  Using amber-screen vt220 terminals in the various basements of SUNY Albany, I hung out on early social networks such as MUDs and MUCKs,  usually in FurryMUCK. I had two characters.  One named after my cat Ishkabibel who was, quite accurately, a ball of white fluff with eyes that bounced around excitedly and left strands of hair wherever she went.  The other was a shape-changer: a sleek black cat/frail girl/lycanthrope based on Le Fanu’s Carmilla; my own character’s third anagram named was Lalmirca.

Illustration by Michael Fitzgerald for Le Fanu...

“Carmilla” also introduced me to the joy of word play in a sense I’d never known before.  And while “Green Tea” was a pleasing story in its own, I find myself more delighted by the memories that looking up details for this post inspired.

The joy didn’t end there.  In doing a Google search to get the link , I found other stories of that name.  Short stories are a bit of a passion this month, since this is Story A Day month here at Chez Mabee.  And so I also found this little gem: Green Tea by Nasir   It is rough.  There are mistakes.  Pronouns shift for characters; there are clearly places where the author was thinking in one direction then wrote another.  But it was sweet.  Sad, but sweet.

Now skipping away from Green Tea  to savor a cup, I have an idea…

Five Sentences

Similar to Kait Nolan’s wonderful Test Mile, I find myself committing to getting at least five sentences of new story written every day.  It wasn’t so much an intention of mine but something I began suggesting to other ROWers after I realized I’d been doing it automatically every day even on those days I felt I too busy or (worse imho) “blocked”.

The idea came from trying to write more in my WiPs.  This unnamed, unspoken goal stated “write five more new sentences in the story.  Just five…“  These sentences had to be part of the story I was working on(not a new story), and they had to try to break the block.  If I couldn’t manage more than five, that was fine.  I went on to new things.  If I could write more than five, I would keep going until I found myself blocked again.

Sometimes I wrote paragraphs of complete and utter nonsense or character sketching, scene sketching, minor character creation or even just ranting into my blank page before I came up with those five sentences.  Sometimes five sentences resulted in pages of backstory, new secondary and tertiary characters, new story ideas…

The “Unnamed Story” I have posted in my Tuesday Snippets developed out of many of these sessions.  Now it is a story in its own right; it is not the WiP I want to work on.  And in the manner of exploring the unknown, it has a multitude of flaws.  I overindulge myself in describing scenes.  The story splits and goes in different directions as I reconsidered the effects of a character’s actions and followed those possibilities further….  It was/is an exercise–I’m still writing pieces in it.  It and the Was Long Variation are my scratch pads for those five sentences, places where I can explore a character and effuse details that I need to know, but perhaps the reader does not.

But  for every paragraph there–indeed for every several paragraphs there, I draw a sentence that I can use in my Writing In Progress.  Maybe not as a sentence itself, maybe as just an idea…  I still have  that sentence to write.  But it is there.

And when I have five sentences, my day can be done…or not.

But I know I’ve written.

The ROW80 check-in however…

Well, since my goals for the rest of May are fairly limited in scope: a story a day and maintain my regular comments and sponsor duties, I can say with delight that I am meeting those goals with almost no problem.  Even days without internet have not really interfered much, since I am rediscovering my joy of writing with pen and paper (I am not as eagerly looking forward to typing everything in before the 30th).

So everything is going well.  Sort of…  As some people may have noticed, my update on Sunday (made via a short post on Facebook) was not the happiest thing.  Most everything is better now, but it reminded me of something…    The ROW80 is a challenge that is more that writing; it’s about living as a writer.

And the ROW80 is about supporting each other as writers.  My ROW80 teammates were there for me this past week.   Please, never hesitate to ask when you need support in your ROW.  It’s what makes this such a wonderful challenge.

And speaking of support…. here’s the linky!  Why not stop in and meet a few of these wonderful people?

Photo Credits:

  • This time it’s green tea. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
  • Illustration by Michael Fitzgerald for Le Fanu’s story Carmilla in The Dark Blue (January 1872), electrotype after wood-engraving, reproduced in Best Ghost Stories, ed. Bleiler. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A Little Something and a Tuesday Snippet

I missed my Tuesday Snippet last week.  I must have been in another world of some kind.  By Wednesday, I completely had forgotten I had missed it.

I thought Life had been pretty easy on me.

Well, here I am, still late, offering an apology to you all.  Sorry.  I’m a ditz.  Not only that…  I’m a ditz who writes.  Very dangerous!

Now that all the supplications have been made allow me to add “I have nothing to say today” as the majority of this post.  That’s right.  I’m posting about nothing.  I’m posting a snippet and deliberately NOT filling you all in about the events of the past few days.  Mostly because they’ve been sucky, but also because I’m still trying to figure out what actually happened.

Do you ever have days like that?  When suddenly everything that seemed to have been going well just dissolves into emotional sludge and you feel like you’re drowning in some subterranean ocean (no air pockets here, btw)…

Oh, and just for the fun of it…  Here’s a One Minute Writer piece I wrote today for the “Clothes” prompt (to describe the most comfortable clothes and make the reader “really feel them“):

They were soft, not quite like another skin, warm in the light of the sun, but allowing the cool of the breeze to drift through, just enough.  There were no lines, no seams…  the colors, the way the weave of the fabric was so smooth that I cannot feel even the drag of the spirals and whorls of my fingerprint.

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ROW80

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