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Why I Write
When I write, I draw on my experiences as a woman with a painful past, a rapturous wife and mother, a world traveler, and a spiritualist. For me, writing is an art form. Like an artist, the work becomes more than I imagined it would be. When I set out to write a story with a particular idea or character in mind, words I cannot claim as my own flow from a magical and mysterious place through me and onto paper. The work takes on a life of its own; it is living art. The process fascinates me, satiates me, and makes my life more meaningful.
Please read my stories! If you would like to offer me feedback on my work, please click here and sign up for a free membership: https://heftynicki.Writing.com
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Blog, Blog, Blog #702788 added July 31, 2010 at 12:25pm
Restrictions: None
Gaze into My Box-O-Juicy Words
The countdown is on, and in just three short days my upbeat children will enter again the hallowed halls of elementary and middle schools. Summer swept us into her sunny whirlpool, leaving us giddy, light-headed, and incredulous that it could possibly be over, already.
And the promise of a quiet house, paramount for writers like me, is tucked in a box on the next page of my week-at-a-glance calendar, waiting like a gift to be opened on the 2nd.
My muse is having a hard time staying patient.
To soothe her unsettled soul, I pulled out my Word Box this morning.
The word box is one of my favorite possessions. The box itself was made by my mother in her small, basement stained glass studio. The glass is clear with what looks like embedded scraps in various tints of rose-colored tissue paper and threadlike ribbons of black ink. The hinged top is inlaid with opaque glass and beveled mirrored. Mom did a great job soldering the pieces together. I was heartbroken when one of the kids accidentally knocked it off the coffee table last year, but now I think the crack visible along the front facing side, and the fact that the lid will forever close off-centered, adds to the box's life story and charm.
Inside this box are juicy words.
Last year, I cut narrow strips of colored card stock, and over the course of several weeks I wrote upon them delicious-sounding, descriptive words. The box stays in a prominent place (but no longer on the dangerous coffee table) where I add to it whenever I hear a vivid or picturesque word.
When Sidney and I cook together, we take turns swishing around the words and pulling two scraps of paper out. Those words become our names for the evening. Once I was Pristine Flabbergast, and Sidney was Polite Lovely-Green.
Since Muse is chomping at the bit to write, but I have a three-boy sleepover party ready to awaken at any moment and demand breakfast -- (...did I just hear a toilet flush downstairs?...) -- I decided to share with you my little early morning exercise.
I stirred up the words, infusing the papers with my creative energy, and pulled my hand away. I wrote a list of all the words I could read without moving the papers:
Treasure
Disturb
Maple rose
Extinguish
Vibrant
Breathe
Loneliness
Frantic
Torch
Filter
Write
Silliness
Wander
Aura
Shoe
Remember
And from the words, I gave myself five minutes to compose a poem. My rules for this game are: it's okay to add short connector words (the, its, than, etc.), and if a word is better used as a different part of speech (silliness [noun] becomes silly [adjective]), change away! With only five minutes, you really have to muzzle your inner editor and embrace the whimsical results. Here were mine:
Remember
Filter not the silliness you write
Better to let its vibrant aura breathe
Than extinguish the treasure torch.
And...
...always wear your wander shoes.
I wasn't able to use disturb, frantic, or loneliness. I guess my energy rejected them. And Maple Rose missed the creative cut, too.
Feel inspired? What funky word combinations can you come up with from this list? (Ex. Frantic Torch) Can you write a line of poetry using some of these words? Please share your inspired results in the comments!
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