Nudging the neurons

The summer semester ended on July 30th, and I'm free now.  Sort of.  My fall class starts in a few weeks but for now, in this in-between space, I'm turning my focus and time toward my MLA capstone, which begins with the spring 2018 semester, and the long list of prep work I've made for myself.  On that list: establish better habits for writing.  

These little 6-word story invitations are, even in their tiny way, a good exercise.  They require economy, which requires thinking outside box to imply a full story behind such a short string of words.  It's a small commitment, coming up with six words, and once I've come up with one string, I'm tempted to come up with a second, and so on, at least until I have to get up and do the laundry or something.  

Nudge those neurons and see what you can come up with.  Feel free to share here but a share on the 6-word story site would be even better.  If you're going to write the words, then why not put them out into the world where they belong?

If you'd rather stay here where people know you, then how about using this image? 

A publication!

I was happy to receive The Soap Box, Vol. II, in which my poem Hoarfrost on Cattails appears.  (Inspired by the photo I took here.)

I haven't had anything published for a few years.  Publication is like the lottery: you gotta' play to win.  And I haven't been playing.  I go through brief spurts when I submit a poem or two then I stop because life doesn't stop while I'm writing poetry, meaning nothing else gets done.  Even life sustaining things like grocery shopping, laundry, bill paying.

The piece published here was one that spontaneously combusted during one of my layovers in Minneapolis last fall.  I'd tried to force it onto the page during my flight, only to be overtaken by a very powerful desire to nap, so I put it away and didn't get it out again until I was waiting at my net gate.  Then, bammo, there it was!  I fired up the laptop, banged the keyboard into oblivion, and now my (albeit imperfect) words are on a printed page with a related sketch facing it.  (I didn't do the sketch.  A fabulous artist named Darya Rakitine did the sketch.  I can't draw.  At all.  Like barely even a doodle in a textbook.)

My gratitude to The Soap Box for publishing it and adding a drawing, and to my creative online friends who allowed my poem to be the one that got submitted from the group of poems we created together.  

Cheers to small journals!





Carnival season is here!

Carnival season kicked off last week with the first in a series that makes its way around to every county fire company from late May through August.  The stroll around the carnival grounds the same night as the Midnite Run show was a welcome chance to try to get that coveted carousel shot I've never gotten, simply because, well, we don't usually go to the carnivals. 

Rule #1 of living creatively: To get what you want, you have to show up!

I enjoyed wandering and spent most of my time cradling my camera in the crook of one elbow, which gave me a steadier shot than if I'd tried to handhold a, say, 1/13 shutter speed in normal position and wasn't too unhappy with the results.

I'm still as mesmerized by the bright lights and vivid colors as I was as a tweenager at the county fair.  I punched up the images a bit to try to convey that sensory overload of being surrounded by all that color and light against the night sky.  The colors feed off their contrast with the sky and the sky appears darker against all the colors; each is stronger because of the other.  Interpret that as you wish.

A little nite music

While it's rare for me, I do get out to listen to local bands once in a while.  I had the pleasure of seeing Midnite Run last night at the first fire company carnival of the season and, though I got home past my (embarrassingly early) bedtime, I was relaxed and rejuvenated from being away from the house, away from homework and even from writing (gasp!).

An article making it way around social media today listed 33 ways to boost creativity, one of which to listen to new music.  Listening to old music I haven't heard in a long time is just as effective.  Anything that's different, out of the daily routine, serves to shake up the routine and jog loose those thoughts that get me stuck and incapable of seeing from a different perspective.

Thanks, Midnite Run, for an impressive performance, a trip down memory lane, and for shaking up my Sunday night routine.  

While there, I also wandered and took photos along the midway and around the rides. Grabbing that opportunity to get creative behind the lens also shook up the monotony of spending every evening staring at the screen and waiting for writing to magically appear on it. It was nice to be freed from that mental obligation for an evening and I had an easy time getting up and finishing a research book this morning, then finishing the current novel's outline set-up in Scrivener.  Now that I've run my errands for the day and gotten these pictures done for the band, and a huge pot of split pea and ham soup is simmering on the stove, I'll move on to do some actual writing.  It's been a day of working up to the writing, but I'm going to get there.  

What can you do to shake up your routine, remove the 'stuckness' that might be holding you back?

The band does a very cool benefit for Wounded Warrior Project every year.  Check it out and buy tickets here.  (No, I'm not getting a kickback.)  You can follow them and see upcoming events on FB, too. 

Blooming where I'm planted

Every year, I get outside to take pictures of what's blooming in our yard.  While I watch petals pop and trees bud, I don't get overly excited about it until a gentle rain hits the blossoms.  Then, the light refracts through the drops, makes leaves and blooms glisten, and catches my eye in ways a dry day can't.  I have a penchant for shooting in the rain.  

This year, that gentle rain came on Earth Day.  Though I'd just gotten home from an informal outdoor shoot that already had me soaked and a bit chilled, I clicked on the macro lens and went outside.  

A gentle rain that comes in April nourishes the now-soft soil, encourages whatever's under the surface to continue its upward climb.  In our case, that means a lot of dandelions and spring onions and sow thistles and creeping charlies and you get the picture.  So while our yard is filled with more weeds than I'm sure most of our neighbors want to be neighbor to, it's wildlife friendly.  No bird and its fledglings will get poisoned by herbicides.  We're probably helping the bees, too.

It was refreshing to have something new to photograph right in our own yard, no need to go anywhere to find something beautiful to spend time with while the spring rain washes away the remains of winter's dreary spell.

Here's a bit of what was blooming on this little corner of the earth where I'm planted.



On possibilities in unlikely places

The Hub and I took a meander today through the hangars at Massey Air Museum, where a friend's birthday celebration was being held.  I'm not a fan of planes - I don't know squat about them except that they're convenient for getting from one place to another in quick order - but I do see the importance of preserving aviation history, which is what Massey does.  Their focus is on the rural airports of the early 20th century, before the massive LAX and MSP and BWIs of modern air travel became the norm.

It was damp and chilly out, a truly bleak day, but we braved it and took a walk through the  unheated hangars and played in the DC-3/C-47 out in the yard and - as always - I found something to take a picture of.  Then I found another.  And another and another.  Despite my disinterest in vintage planes, I found enough to keep me going.  That's what photography does for me; it lets me get lost in the moment even when I'm someplace I haven't the slightest interest in, or when I've developed a bit of boredom in a place I've been to many times.  Once I drop my preconceived notions, what's around me becomes interesting.

The same happens with writing.  It's the willingness to find something interesting that creates the finding, much like making a space allows a writing idea to grow whereas sitting still and expecting it to hit me over the head never works.  

Willingness opens the door for an active seeking, which finds new possibilities.  Every time.