High Wire Act
“V ~ You have to stop this. It’s too dangerous. You’ll ruin everything we’ve worked for …”
Viviana reread the hasty warning, running her fingers over the heavy cream linen paper and chewing on her lower lip.
Even though the note wasn’t signed, she knew who’d shoved it under her apartment door while she was at the barber shop. The emblem in the upper left corner, a little grey umbrella, was a dead giveaway.
What she couldn’t figure out was how had they known where she lived? How had they found her after all this time? She’d been careful. Deliberate. Not using her real name, paying with cash whenever possible, moving frequently, and taking jobs that wouldn’t draw too much attention. Now she realized it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. No matter how meticulous she was planning and adapting, they had their ways.
As she hopped up on the roof ledge of her building, Viviana looked around as if the darkness would reveal where her safeguards failed. Some telltale sign that gave her away. But answers eluded her. The wire stretching across the alley, her escape route, was invisible from the street even in daylight. Only a person like her, someone who knew what to look for, and expected it to be there, could see the tightrope.
Perched and ready to flee, she adjusted her backpack and said a silent goodbye to the place that had been home for the past nine months. She’d miss New York City, vibrant and alive. Big and crowded, the perfect place to swallow her up whole. In this city she was anonymous.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered, placing her foot on the rope, legs steady, referring not only to the city but to the people as well. She would miss her customers at the barber shop too. Many of whom had become friends and some more than friends, like Vincent. She wondered what he would think when he came home and found her ‘Dear John’ letter.
Cutting hair had been a challenge, a skill she’d taught herself. One she enjoyed more than she expected. She would have to figure out another job that paid cash and had day time hours. Her nights needed to be free for funambulist pursuits.
Coming home to the warning didn’t dissuade her as they hoped, instead it doubled her resolve to accomplish her mission, the one passed down by her grandfather (may he rest in peace). Or she would die trying just as he had. Viviana would prove The Acrobats weren’t a cult when she pulled off the most spectacular heist of all time.
With a sigh and a flick of her dark ponytail she walked with confidence above the alley. Another life to leave behind.
© 2016 the Jotter’s Joint – Mind Map
PRACTICE: I used a story starter courtesy of Scholastic. This program helps combat summer slide for my kids. It’s a great way to spark their creativity and let’s face it the spinning wheel adds the excitement of a game show. Who wouldn’t love that?
Write advice to a suspicious barber who is a tightrope walker.
They journal their stories in notebooks purchased specifically for the purpose. Sometimes I ask them to pull out one of the 5 sentence long (my requirement) stories and build it into something longer. Editing is writing they say. It keeps them writing, facing a blank page, and maybe it even helps them avoid some of the fear of a blank page.
But it hadn’t occurred to me until my epiphany that I could use it as practice too. And to give myself a little bit of an added challenge I also used random word generator courtesy of Creativity Games; selecting three words that I had to incorporate into the story. This first go around I was able to work two of the three into the story.
~ ~ ~ LEGS ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ CULT ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ TOOTH ~ ~ ~
Mind-mapping as a part of my writing process was freeing. I worried less about the “planning” or “outlining”. No pressure. Colorful. The best way to think through what my story and characters needed.
I wrote a second scene but realized that I’d fulfilled the prompt in this first scene. This short story may not be perfect but practice makes progress I’ve been told recently. Here’s to PROGRESS!
Can’t wait to do try another genre (this one is adventure) from Scholastic story starter. If you’re a writer who is currently struggling, I highly recommend story starters and mind-mapping.
Is This the Start of Something New?
As I laid in bed last week with the flu (worst sick ever) and I could not do anything more strenuous than sleep, I had a moment. An epiphany if you will.
I thought, “God is preparing me for something GREAT,” in an out-with-the-old-in-with-the-new sort of way. A cleansing perhaps. As if by starving my fever and feeding my cold, or is it feeding the fever starving the cold, that He could somehow jump start this lackluster stage of my life.
Visceral.
Dramatic.
True.
My lucid moments were spent evaluating my life. Maybe because if felt like dying – again worst sick I’ve experienced.
I wondered how am I doing as a mom and a fairly new homeschooler who works full time away from home. I tried to measure myself as a wife and friend; sister and daughter. Heavy thoughts while physically drained and emotionally vulnerable; which contributed to the sense that God was trying to tell me something.
Of course, it didn’t take long before that self reflection turned to my writing life or let’s be honest my non-existent writing life. It’s been two years since I’ve focused time and talent toward writing with intention. WRITING: a thing I’ve come to avoid, a thing not to speak of …
At least not until my oldest questions me: “Mom, when are you going to publish your book?”
I haven’t finished it.
Or when my husband buys me the most thoughtful Christmas gift, a new computer, citing, “Hopefully, it will inspire you to start writing again.”
Then there’s guilt because my response is vague, “I don’t know. We’ll see.”
But what I really mean is, “I afraid.” I don’t want to be. I want to be a good example to my son when it comes to:
- Finish what you start.
- Chase your dreams.
- Keep fighting, never give up.
Quitting than wasn’t a real option but I’ve gotten talented at postponing and deflecting … a dream deferred or whatever.
All the same fears from 2014 still haunt me: should I, could I, am I? My self talk isn’t positive and while I have fear, the possibilities energize me.
Now the question has surfaced and demanded my attention, I have to wonder what’s in store. Wonder, if there is a greater plan in the works.
Is this the start of something new?
But probably not.
Maybe it’s the start of something old … a continuation … a love for words that may spill over into something more.
No promises, only hope.
2014 in review
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,100 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 35 trips to carry that many people.
Signing Off, Broken Process, and a Writing Experiment
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
My Colorado vacation highlight was hearing Gary D. Schmidt talk about writing and publishing. His advice was similar to what you may hear from other sources e.g. write every day. He recommended 500 words. Disciplined. Committed. Daily. No excuses.
I considered my writing process and the rationale behind it. Early on I determined every day didn’t work for me. It was too much. I needed time to ruminate, rejuvenate, etc.
Then I decided that word counts could be weekly instead of daily since I wasn’t writing every day anyway. It made sense.
And then, I figured my writing goals could be worked monthly so long as I donated some of my time to it. It’s not like it’s my ‘job’ right? Who needs deadlines? It will get done in its own time.
Four years later …
When my writing process seeped out of its dedicated-routine sized pitcher and leaked into a-hobby-I’ll-get-to later sized bucket, I didn’t notice. Until I kicked the bucket over making a huge puddle sized mess to mop up. A puddle, I promptly pulled up my pant legs and stepped over it.
I thought, “I’ll deal with you later,” because it was like trying to drink the ocean with a straw. A salty impossible mess.
Better for it to be out of sight, out of mind. (But not really.)
I realized, my process was broken. And broken processes are an irritation, a pet peeve. Ask my husband the number of times he listened to my rants about this topic on vacation. Processes are meant to run smoothly and efficiently. When they don’t, they’re meant to be improved.
Stay with me …
Gary also talked about how he’s not actively engaged in social media. He stated (and I’m paraphrasing), if you only write 500 words a day, should it be a blog post? Or tweets or whatever? Or should it be 500 words toward your fiction or non-fiction pieces? At the end of the year you’ll have 183,000 words to edit into the story you want to tell. You can get it done.
Ouch! That hit home.
Remember, my blog was supposed to be the place where I practiced writing? Okay, maybe it’s become a distractor or an “out” from doing the “real work” that’s hard and terrifying.
Again, broken process.
I know, I know, I just posted that writer’s write and it doesn’t matter what they write, but hmmm … I am rethinking that philosophy.
While I was on vacation my characters came-a-calling. They’ve lain silent for almost a year, only to shake me awake at 5 AM when I could be sleeping in for a change.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” they screamed.
I was game. I sat in the dark of our hotel room writing feverishly while my family slept quiet and peaceful.
There’s something about this time of year. Summer and vacation, being away from my normal seems to unleash my creativity, the playful side.
Hold on, we’re getting there …
While I thought about my recent reads (which were so good) and all of Gary’s encouragement, I realized the story scope on my novel was too broad; aggressive for a newbie. I started in the wrong place. I needed to plot the plot even though I am a pantser. The list of first-timer mistakes I’ve made is long.
I tweeted my epiphany which came in one of those 5AM moments:
From 40K to zero because starting over feels right. #plotting #AmWriting
Yes, I am scrapping it all. I am giving this WIP a clean slate to reinvent itself.
In working through this I found a new beginning to the story (4 unique versions of the beginning to be exact). A new direction and manageable scale which can help me past my writer’s block. I hope.
There’s a new working title: The Way to Wonderland, which makes me smile.
Character names, purposes, and motivations will change. Locations will evolve. Villains and heroes will get an unexpected twist, I never saw coming. And somehow it will all come together.
Here it is …
The culmination of events leads to the real reason for today’s post …
I am signing off.
No, not forever.
I am dedicating the entire month of August 2014 to writing; working on the novel in progress which technically is a new angle on an existing idea. I’m in pursuit.
31 days of 500 words a day. No exceptions. No excuses. It will be my little writing experiment,
Let’s see if I can fix my broken writing process. I’m nervous but hopeful.
Wish me luck. Live in the suspense. I’ll chat with you in September around the 9th. Be well!
~Gail
NOTE: I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago, thinking the timing would allow for character development and plotting. Unfortunately, I didn’t get it done. I will spend the first part of August completing the important task of planning. Then I will write 500 words a day. I’ll still check in with you early September but it’s likely I will need more off time to hit 31 days.
Return to Snail Mail: A Personal Handwritten Letter Campaign
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
2014 started as my year of gifting good stories. Buying books for friends and family members – mostly my mom and my boys, providing moments of escape from their every day lives. Or sending recommendations of interest to those who keep a running list like I do.
Slowly this gift is morphing into stories of my life via handwritten notes and cards, like a personal history or memoir through correspondence. I’m not quite sure why …
Maybe it’s the thrill of “real” mail or the fact that simple things are important.
More than likely it’s due to seeing old friends and realizing our interactions are social media driven only. We could call or write but why when Facebook feeds run like a life highlights newsreel? Because Facebook is usually the good times without room for the difficult and sad, the intimate moments of life.
It could be the fact that while on vacation my dudes sent postcards to some of their friends, whose parents told me of their excitement upon receiving the quick note. How can we not spread that joy again?
Maybe it’s because we have friends spending a year abroad. Wouldn’t it be sweet for them to get letters from home? To feel connected and not far away despite the distance?
Or it could be thanks to my dear friend, whose daily walk includes checking the mail with her infant. A tradition in the making, I think. Of course they need mail to retrieve from the box.
The reason doesn’t matter much. Only the desire to send some love: signed, sealed, and delivered.
I’ll still give books but they may have a personal story penned in my own hand, tucked between the pages.
Here’s to great stories!
Postcards from Southern California: Family Fun in the Hot Hot Sun
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
It was like a furnace. Temperatures ranged from 90 to 105 degrees. Too hot to do anything other than lounge; which we did.
Trying to find a cool spot and stay hydrated were the top of our activities list while visiting my family in High Desert. [Side Note: Mom’s house doesn’t have central air-conditioning.]
We spent time with the family we don’t see often enough. Shopping and bowling. Eating our favorite Southern California foods like In-N-Out.
We had the opportunity to catch up with life-long friends and hit the beach.
Plenty of ‘selfie’ style photos exist. My boys will have pictures with me in them as well as their cousins, aunts, and Granny. Usually, I take tons of food shots but this year I promised myself, I’d feature the people. Interesting how different this vacation slide deck will look.
I read 3 books:
- A Better World by Marcus Sakey, exceeded my expectations. It’s better than book one in the saga, Brilliance. Trust me a must read.
- The Wednesday Wars by Gary D. Schmidt, was amazing. Another must read.
- The Secret’s in the Sauce by Linda Evans Shepard and Eva Marie Everson.
We saw 2 movies which were family dates with my sisters, niece and nephew:
- X-Men: Days of Future Past
- Transformers: Age of Extinction
We had 1 date without the kiddos. Just hubby and me. It’s hard to pull off when we’re home.
These are bonus tracks on the vacation album.
Cousins in the surf.
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
Seaweed Collection
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
There were lots of items on our ‘to do’ list that we never got marked off. We didn’t have our Read-A-Thon which the boys wanted to do in Colorado originally. I’m so glad we gave our books their own suitcase to travel with us. Oh well we will plan it for next month.
New meaning to book bag.
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
Now we’re home, a little jet lagged and struggling with the return to routine, but color me grateful for the days we sat on the front porch in the setting sun with the people I love most in the world.
Postcards from Colorado: Adventures in Thin Air
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
Greetings …
Today is post Tuesday and I haven’t had a chance to slow down enough to organize my thoughts and experiences into a cohesive narrative. But instead of missing post day I decided to bullet some of the highlights and share some scenic shots.
BACKGROUND: Colorado, the first week of our vacation is thanks to Calvin Theological Seminary, my husband’s alma mater. They offer a seminar to pastors, Imaginative Reading for Creative Preaching.
This opportunity is designed to allow said pastors to also have a family vacation i.e. sessions from 8-noon followed by time for family adventures.
The course hosted by Scott Hoezee and Neal Plantinga (author of Reading for Preaching), required my husband to do some serious reading:
- The Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
- Enrique’s Journey – Sonia Nazario
- Collected Poems – Jane Kenyon
- The Poetry of Robert Frost: Collected Poems – Robert Frost
- The Wednesday Wars – Gary D. Schmidt
- Okay for Now – Gary D. Schmidt
- Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy – Gary D. Schmidt
- Means of Ascent: The Years of Lyndon Johnson – Robert Caro
Of course my reading list is a little longer now.
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
We had the pleasure of staying at Snow Mountain Ranch, the YMCA of the Rockies, which is a beautiful place to stay. AND it has lots of activities for everyone.
From a parenting perspective, I have to say my dudes surprised me. In particular, our oldest tried many things that if you’d told me a week prior that he would do so I wouldn’t have believed it.
- He went on the zip line, some 30 feet off the ground, as did my husband. They each used one word to describe it. Dude said, “Fast.” Hubby said, “Fun.”
- He climbed the rock wall. Again some 30 feet off the ground, even though heights make him nervous.
- He also tried roller-skating for the first time; counting the number of times he fell as we went along. It’s been at least 15 years since I was on skates and I loved sharing it with my dude.
- He navigated the cafeteria like a camp veteran, helping his brother along the way, making us think he’s ready for an overnight camp experience without us.
Both boys tried their hand at archery, which isn’t as easy as our favorite quiver-wearing-bow-wielding-heroes make it look.
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
My youngest wasn’t as adventurous but he enjoyed:
- Miniature golf
- Volleyball for the first time. And,
- Basketball, even though he told me, “I’m not ready for the NBA.” What a sweet boy!
Okay, I’d also like to say they wrote and mailed postcards to friends about our time in Colorado; giving a glimpse into our vacation. Yes, I am smiling for the handwritten correspondence, brief, as you have to be on a postcard. Their handwriting at 9 and 7 years old is priceless.
These moments made this momma proud.
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
My personal fave of our time was sitting in a small group around the fireplace listening Gary D. Schmidt and his editor daughter, Kathleen Kerr, as they talked about writing and publishing in today’s world. I didn’t say a word. Never asked a question. I was the weirdo in the back sporting the perma-grin.
My husband’s personal fave comes courtesy of Facebook. A friend posted that they were “camping in the Rockies” and the picture loaded the location of Winter Park, CO. Just 10 minutes down the road.
Hubby was able to catch up with three of his closest childhood friends and their families. Some we hadn’t visited in a couple of years, others in more than a decade. It was an unexpected and special surprise in our trip. Yay Facebook for bringing people together.
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
LAST NOTES:
- Check out Snow Mountain Ranch. You may want to plan a trip there. If you go there,
- Visit The Foundry which is a great place: movie theater & bowling alley mashup. Order the caramel corn which is to die for; comfy leather seats, where we watched How to Train Your Dragon 2.
- Stop by Dozens Restaurant if you make it to Denver. Oh how delicious the food. See my meal?
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
Thanks to the altitude, my oldest son and I suffered from headaches and bloody noses despite drinking as much fluid as we could. And the hubby had trouble sleeping. It was still one of the best vacations to date.
In two weeks I’ll be back in Colorado for work but I am grateful I was able to experience it on vacation, otherwise I would have missed out on so much of this beautiful state.
Happy summer travels … be safe.
Writers Write, Right?
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
Confession: I haven’t been writing, at least not in a fiction-novel-in-progress sort of way.
Of course I’ve captured conversations with my dudes that are humorous and notable, like:
S: How old is she again?
Me: She’s almost two.
S: Yeah. Right.
Me: Why?
S: Well, that’s why we’re keeping her away from the Legos. It’s a choking hazard till she’s three. You know because of all the small pieces.
Or this one:
Me: Do you want the last two books in the Sweetfarts trilogy?
N: I don’t know. No.
Me: They’re $1 on the Kindle right now.
N: I don’t know. I guess.
Me: Well would you read them? For a dollar each?
N: Okay. Go ahead. It’s your money. Spend it however you want.
Me: Gee thanks for giving me permission to spend my money on you.
Cute, right? Worth committing to paper for the sake of telling my future grandkids.
Confession: I haven’t written in the one-day-you’ll-be-a-published-author kind of way.
Hey, blogging is writing, right? Some of my posts have been longish of late, as I toy with sentence length, alliteration, and structure. My posts have ventured into new topics or maybe I should say, I’m not writing solely about writing (or not writing). Good, bad, or indifferent, I’m playing with language to share what’s on my mind.
Confession: I haven’t been writing in the sense of word count goals and manuscript deadlines. NaNoWriMo camps? What are those?
Sure my days are filled with endless forms of the written word: emails and tweets and Facebook posts.
I’ve engaged in rambling text conversations about homeschooling and teaching writing; about books on my “to read” list; and summer reading plans for my boys. Texts about grammar and Ted Talks; reminders and questions; random and fun; word bubbles and emoticons. Battling autocorrect when I want to intentionally misspell a word.
So much to say to so many people in a limited amount of time.
Confession: I haven’t written in terms of feeling like an artsy creative type; unworthy of the craft and tortured soul.
My first and only novel-in-progress remains at just over 40,000 words, which averages to be 10,000 words per year.
The new piece I wanted to start, stalled out because I tried to map it out. Poor Pantser me.
Accountability calls with writing partners have turned more social than productive. Well, when they attempt to steer conversation toward my writing life anyway.
How many times have I used a form of “write” in this post so far? Too many. I need to consult a thesaurus. I’m getting rusty and maybe language lazy.
Anyway, I digress.
Confession: I haven’t written in the butt-in-seat, every day way typical advice to writers.
Wait!
What?
Yes. Yes, I have written in the butt-in-seat, every day way, because I journal constantly; making notes of ideas that intrigue me; listing thoughts that challenge me. Jotting down phrases and words that may morph into blog posts.
What the heck?
I blog. I post. I send emails. I tweet. I text. I write down what my boys say. I even handwrite letters and thank you cards.
Does it matter what I write? No, of course not. What matters is the practice of writing, of thinking critically and creatively.
Writers write.
Writing is writing.
Don’t be fooled.
It starts small and it builds. It happens when you don’t affix the label “writing” to it.
What guilt riddled writing confessions hold you back?
Go fill all the blank pages with story …
Dandelion Fluff and Other Stuff
© 2014 the Jotter’s Joint
Nostalgia … rolls around in my mind; flows out of my pen, and falls from my lips like bouncy balls in the middle of the grocery store; an awkward chain reaction … A weird déjà vu I can’t shake …
How easily we fall back into a former self? A scent, a place, a phrase, a word, or a picture, can evoke sensations of who we were and what was important to us once.
The Road Home …
A couple of weeks ago I travelled to California for work. I didn’t get to see my family but the trip brought images to mind that I hadn’t thought of in years.
Like, how I hate to drive in rush hour traffic, not that anyone enjoys it.
Nostalgia speed by as familiar places appeared on exit signs: Manhattan Beach, I-15, Redondo Beach, 110 freeway. Nostalgia rose with familiar neon signs announcing fast food joints I frequent when I visit the Golden State: In-N-Out Burger, Carl’s Jr., Del Taco …
My traveling companion wasn’t moved by any of these things. Inching closer to our destination in bumper to bumper she could have cared less.
But for me … it was miles of memories spanning ages.
Naiveté
My yard was covered with white puffy balls until the lawn service showed up and mowed. Crazy that these seemingly insignificant bulbs made me think of a simpler time.
Nostalgia peaked out from the grass to greet me.
I loved blowing dandelion fluff until one day, who knows when, I started seeing them as weeds, allergens.
I used to call them beautiful flowers. I would pick the bright yellow blooms by the bunch; keeping the stems in a wet paper towel to keep them from dying. Sometimes drinking the white liquid that we called “dandelion milk”.
The sight of my lawn with its snowy vegetation generated a flashback of that white halter top with the red trim I had at the age of five. Playing in the front yard with my older sister who was wearing her white halter top with the red trim. (Mom dressed us alike and people thought we were twins.) Our heads thrown back in laughter as we polluted the air with our wishes. Twirling.
Remarkable … I wonder if she remembers.
Summertime
Summer has finally made an appearance in Michigan; temperatures topping the 80s. I can sit outside listening to my dudes’ laughter while being eaten alive by mosquitos.
Nostalgia calls to me with loud, overly bright, music from squeaky speakers.
Chasing ice cream trucks and riding my lavender bike with the white basket to the library. Dinging and scraping up my toes because I wore flip-flops instead of closed shoes when I rode. Chocolate covered fingers as I tried to ride and read and eat all at the same time. Stopping at every street corner trying to lick my fingers free of the mess.
Footloose and fancy free. My favorite time of year.
Father’s Day
Summer brings with it a time and privilege of celebrating fathers. When soap-on-a-rope and nose hair trimmers and Old Spice or Brut after-shaves are plentiful.
Nostalgia creeps up on me, playing a sad song of “I miss him.”
My mind’s eye flashes images like a slide show of dad holding a beer and grilling chicken in the back yard. Smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee over the morning paper, specifically the sports page. Running to the corner store to get lottery tickets before 8 p.m. Puttering in the garden and telling me to shoo the birds out of the fruit trees. I was happy to play human scarecrow for his sake.
I still dream of him.
Bittersweet holiday.
Pathways
There are many other examples where triggers like these sent me on a mental migration to another time; another me. All of which serve to remind me of how carefree life can be when your only responsibility is to be a kid and make memories.
We are just weeks away from our family vacation. I will not work. I may spend some time writing because I’ve been negligent here and my nine, soon-to-be-ten, year old keeps referencing my “good book” or at least what he’s heard of it. Asking: When are you going to finish?
More than anything … I want to start the collection of experiences that my boys will later look back on and label “nostalgic”. Dandelion Fluff Occasions.
Lazy days away from our normal routine. We will visit new places and some old. We will spend time with my family and reminisce about childhood:
- Feast on the flavors of home.
- Savor the sounds of long ago.
- Embrace the echoes of innocence.
Nostalgia … What voices of the past sneak up on you? What childhood stages do you want to relive? What are your dandelion fluff occasions?
the Jotter's Joint 