Over dinner earlier this week, a nurturing friend reminded me that I have not posted anything since July. That is correct. Severe writer's block? Perhaps. Busy life? Surely. Procrastination? Could be. All of the above? Without a doubt.
I'm involved again with yet another set of classes for writers-who-want-to-write. This time, it's only four classes, the third of which, I may have to miss due to the unforeseen circumstances which became very-seen, only yesterday. I will return to that in a few sentences.....
This time, my academic pursuit is aimed at "creative writing". Fiction. Maybe even a character here and there, other than myself. Dialogue? Never been good at the aforementioned. I don't have an imagination.....err, yes, I do; one that at times, dominates my conscious life. What I lack is the confidence that allows me to divulge the inner workings of that imagination by penning what actually goes on inside my head. I'm sure this is common. Certainly, among memoir writers who fear retaliation from the characters they describe from real-life. Relatives do sue.
So, I'm plugging along, hoping for a character to pop up and a story to unfold. Oh, that it be that easy. Or is it?
So, yesterday afternoon, after bringing my father to get his flu shot, I set out, once again to prove that old theory that no good deed goes unpunished when I took advantage of time on my hands and set out to do a bit of shopping in Hyannis, AKA, "the city". I figured that with Joe on his way to New York with my car, I would get a head start on next week, using his car. by picking up some items at Trader Joe's instead of waiting for his return and going together on Monday (always costs more, shopping with him).
It was 3:30 on a beautiful Fall afternoon and the traffic, for some reason, was thick. When traffic is thus, I approach rotaries with more caution than usual. We have a lot of rotaries (aka Round-Abouts) here on the Cape for some reason and a lot of people who simply don't know how to get in or out of them, never mind drive in them. So, one must keep all rules in mind and all eyes open. If you're already an occupant, you have the right of way until which time you exit - and it's always best to stay in the exit lane, with your blinker on, lest other drivers who do pay attention, will not know your intentions. Thoughtful, careful and precise use of driving skills. And that is the way I entered and almost got out of, the rotary. Almost. Bump! Damn! That black car, despite my warning beep of the horn, came right out of her waiting spot and started into my lane, clipping the right rear of my husband's beloved car. What? No bodily harm. Just a big bump and off to the side of the road where there, miraculously, was a perfect place to park without disrupting the flow of traffic or standing in harm's way.
Irate at what had just happened, I jumped out of my car and professed my disbelief to the other driver, the one who so clearly had violated the law, with the words, "You just hit me when I was in the rotary!!!". And then, it happened. A character in search of a story. A middle-aged blonde woman who looked as if she had just sucked on a big lemon, who's first response, one that will live in infamy, was...."Oh, just shut up and give me your license". How easy was that?
Writer's block? Character development? Fiction? What am I worried about? Inspiration, it's all out there, as close as the next rotary. I found mine, on the way to Trader Joe's. On a perfectly clear day. In the middle of the afternoon. All by myself.
I'm involved again with yet another set of classes for writers-who-want-to-write. This time, it's only four classes, the third of which, I may have to miss due to the unforeseen circumstances which became very-seen, only yesterday. I will return to that in a few sentences.....
This time, my academic pursuit is aimed at "creative writing". Fiction. Maybe even a character here and there, other than myself. Dialogue? Never been good at the aforementioned. I don't have an imagination.....err, yes, I do; one that at times, dominates my conscious life. What I lack is the confidence that allows me to divulge the inner workings of that imagination by penning what actually goes on inside my head. I'm sure this is common. Certainly, among memoir writers who fear retaliation from the characters they describe from real-life. Relatives do sue.
So, I'm plugging along, hoping for a character to pop up and a story to unfold. Oh, that it be that easy. Or is it?
So, yesterday afternoon, after bringing my father to get his flu shot, I set out, once again to prove that old theory that no good deed goes unpunished when I took advantage of time on my hands and set out to do a bit of shopping in Hyannis, AKA, "the city". I figured that with Joe on his way to New York with my car, I would get a head start on next week, using his car. by picking up some items at Trader Joe's instead of waiting for his return and going together on Monday (always costs more, shopping with him).
It was 3:30 on a beautiful Fall afternoon and the traffic, for some reason, was thick. When traffic is thus, I approach rotaries with more caution than usual. We have a lot of rotaries (aka Round-Abouts) here on the Cape for some reason and a lot of people who simply don't know how to get in or out of them, never mind drive in them. So, one must keep all rules in mind and all eyes open. If you're already an occupant, you have the right of way until which time you exit - and it's always best to stay in the exit lane, with your blinker on, lest other drivers who do pay attention, will not know your intentions. Thoughtful, careful and precise use of driving skills. And that is the way I entered and almost got out of, the rotary. Almost. Bump! Damn! That black car, despite my warning beep of the horn, came right out of her waiting spot and started into my lane, clipping the right rear of my husband's beloved car. What? No bodily harm. Just a big bump and off to the side of the road where there, miraculously, was a perfect place to park without disrupting the flow of traffic or standing in harm's way.
Irate at what had just happened, I jumped out of my car and professed my disbelief to the other driver, the one who so clearly had violated the law, with the words, "You just hit me when I was in the rotary!!!". And then, it happened. A character in search of a story. A middle-aged blonde woman who looked as if she had just sucked on a big lemon, who's first response, one that will live in infamy, was...."Oh, just shut up and give me your license". How easy was that?
Writer's block? Character development? Fiction? What am I worried about? Inspiration, it's all out there, as close as the next rotary. I found mine, on the way to Trader Joe's. On a perfectly clear day. In the middle of the afternoon. All by myself.
