I Would Have Written It…

Differently. We all have those books. We’re reading along, there might be some inconsistency in the writing but we’re still in it. Until that moment when we think “No, this that and the other thing needs to happen right here.”

And as writers, our brain sets off like a freight train.

I just had that happen recently in the middle of a book. And my brain is chugging along. I have several ideas that haven’t got the steam on their own, but maybe if I smash them together I can get somewhere.

Spoiler Alert: I’m working through this as I’m writing. I will tell you there will only be generalities about the stories because, whelp. It’s not that I believe someone will “steal” my ideas. You and I could be given the same setting, plot and characters and write completely different stories. It’s because if I write too much or discuss a story my brain is over it and I lose all interest in writing it.

So first off, the book stat I was reading (and DNF’d) was trying very hard to be a mafia romance. And for some odd reason it made me think of a story I had started and stopped quite a few times– it deals with witches & warlock vs mage ability. What’s the difference and what happens when you are one but everyone assumes you are incompetent at the other? This idea is hands down 100% fantasy so obviously no mafia. But warring factions? We can do that.

The part I put it down at was a “meet the head of the family” type of moment and it was not going well. Whelp. Last year I started watching those super short shows– you know the ones. Rich guy drops his wife who is a secret billionaire who is now gonna make his life hell. Ok, so take part of that– the part where they really have NO IDEA who the heck they are dealing withand smash it with witch/mage thing.

I really want a sentient house in there too. I love them. When the house is a character it can go either really really well or very badly for the people involved.

But then I’ve been leaning towards shifter romance, although none of the ones I’m seeing are catching my eye and/or imagination. That might A. Be one step too far or B. Just be a reading thing. I know I tend to not read what I’m writing or what I’m hearing up to write so I might just go back to some old favorites of that type and see if that scratches that.. oh that’s in poor taste.

So. There you have it. My creative brain run around and proof that even the books we don’t finish can be worth it for us.

Ta, my lovelies! I’m off to write a bit now!

Idk

I’m having a problem with follow through on my stories right now. Writing them, that is

And a little bit on reading new books. I’ve thrown a bunch onto my DNF shelf. One of which I dnf’d so hard I mentally started rewriting it in my imagination then flipping it over to a story I had started once upon a time.

So much so that I started looking for the file. But my cloud storage is a confusing batch of storms, none of which I found it in. Which means I should look for it on my laptop. But my desk is full with my work computer and stuff for work and I don’t want to cross that boundary.

Which I get it. I have a whole a$$ house to set up in. And I have too much crap and I get it under control and then it slips the leash and goes out of control and yada yada yada. Just put the work in, and I can have a working solution. I could have the home I want.

And yet something almost always stops me. And that something is me.

I know how I became my own worst enemy in this. Anyone have any suggestions? Because I don’t know how to fix this.

Have you ever met the book

That you wish you’d written, but you’re so grateful someone else did… You’re also so scared the ending won’t live up to it, to the homage? The call back?

I just did.

I make no bones of being inspired by Willie Wonka and his Chocolate Factory. Specifically, Gene Wilder’s version of the candy man. It caught my imagination, burrowed in and still can be found there to this day.

I had no idea what was in store for me when I picked up “The Wishing Game” by Meg Shaffer. Should have maybe inferred it, but there’s nothing blatant about the homage on the OUTSIDE of the book. On that fateful bookstore birthday shopping spree I didn’t check the inside. I never do, unless I’m checking out the writing style. If I had read the praise, or even the dedication, well…

I would have squealed, loudly and proudly.

This book has taken me a few days to read, not because it was slow, or dense or anything else. But because I was scared. Even though I had already flipped to the back of the book. And yes, I’m also the person who cringes hard and looks away (or pauses) when watching TV or a movie when the characters were being cringey, or being embarrassed by others.

I had a lot emotionally invested in this book, even with never having read a lick of it. I hoped for the characters. I wished upon stars with them. And I celebrated with them too.

It does not contain a candy garden, or a chocolate factory. Sorry. No Oompa Loompas, either. But there is a family found and bound with love, and forgiveness and understanding and hope.

It was unexpectedly the book I really needed right at that moment.

Oh! And it contains the poem– the one Gene Wilder says in the boat. Or at least the first stanza. But Shaffer also gives credit (cites the sources as Jack would say): ODE, BY ARTHUR O’SHAUGHNESSY.

How wondrous to buy a book and have it echo so many of your own imagination’s quirkiness.

Writerly Musing: Cover Letter

So, I probably just bombed my chances by writing the most honest cover letter of my life.

It’s for a weird, disturbing story I wrote that also happens to be beautiful. I mentioned in the letter that if I am to kill my darlings the whole story would be gone and I can’t do that.

It’s a story that means something to me. Because stories matter, we know they do. And this story is like a prayer, a hymn for a life gone too soon. I get emotional about the story and I slipped the leash and let it out in the cover letter.

Stories matter.

I’m having a hard time finding a home for this one. That’s ok. It just hasn’t found a home yet. I have faith that it will, tho.

Stories matter. Dark and twisty, light and fluffy. All ends of the spectrum. Stories matter. If I feel anything down deep to my bones it is that.

Stories matter.

Creative Journal/Planning

So… I may have started using a planner. And it might, maybe well…. It is decorated. And I find myself looking forward to using it every day.

I don’t have a lot going on that needs to be in a planner. My schedule is pretty set, so what on earth do I need a planner for? What do I use it for? My appointments for a week fit on a post-it note. With room to spare. Still on there but also…

A reading log and quotes that I find and like. Gratitude list which is now on my monthly calendar because I ran out of room this week (which is a wonderful thing). I’ll also draw a little TV and write in a show I’m looking forward to that has started back up or questions and concerns (Looking at you Grey’s Anatomy and Station 19!)

I also journal a bit in the empty boxes. It has become a nightly ritual– look over it, make notes about my day or how I’m feeling.

I have my “Be a Blessing” area roped off where I keep track of cards I’ve sent out, who and what date I sent it. Since tracking, I have sent at least 1 card a day. Fun Story: I googled one of my dad’s old friends/co workers and found an address. Phone was disconnected. So I sent a card on Monday. Dad spoke with him on Wednesday and it lifted his spirits.

Speaking of cards, since I have stickers and pens and washi tape (I thought I had so.much.stuff! Until I watched some planners on YouTube) I experimented and made my first card. We shall see how well it goes over 😊 I think my friend will love it

The best thing about it though is a group I belong to. We all meet up via FB messenger on Sunday night and work on our planners. Tips and tricks are shared, so are our stories. It feels like having coffee with friends. It’s the highlight of my week, my one “social” activity that I plan on every week. Even the princeling knows that we don’t mess around with Moms planning time.

My me time, with friends

QUICK NOTES:

I get a lot of my ideas from 2 YouTube people. Planning with Bumble and Kell of a Plan are the “channels” I watch.

Do you do planning? How do u plan? What YouTubers do you follow for decorative planning?

Momcation

I haven’t been by myself in a house for an extended amount of time in… Years. I always have my son (15) or my dad (95) around or coming back. It’s wonderful. I love my family. But….

I used to love living by myself too. I’ve always kept myself occupied– readings writing, television. I’m not one that gets bored and stays bored. The quiet is a friend of mine- it allows a moment of reflection, a deep sigh.

Thanks to Caltrans and my Best friend I just had that. A glorious Sunday through Thursday morning where I stayed in a house all by my lonesome. Caltrans closed the freeway that I need to get to work. (Not a work vacation, alas). My BF is travelling, and offered her house. I have to tell you….

It. Was. Glorious.

I wrote and sent out cards. I didn’t cook ANYTHING. Frozen all the way. And after work, I went to the real happiest place on earth, Barnes and Noble, and bought many wonderful magazines. One was brand new to me, called Oh, Reader and I read every single article in it. Which has inspired me– to do magazine reviews. Share what I’m loving. Maybe a few book reviews in there too.

The fact is that I miss blogging. I miss sharing the things I love, and boy do I love books and magazines!

I love my family. Of course I do.

But I missed myself, and didn’t even realize what had been missing in my life was ME.

Poem A Day

Is not going well
I’m sorry to say

The pen dried up
The paper burned
in an imaginary fire
My chisel for the tablet
Cracked in half

Or maybe

My imagination failed
I didn’t get the memo
The kid ate my poem
(The dog turned up it’s nose)

Or maybe

New habits take time
A little grace extended
To self is rare indeed
And it’s time to

Begin again

Flash Fiction excersize

From the Rose Metal Guide to Flash Fiction… i took a class that uses this book.

Thought you might get a giggle out of this. I enjoyed writing them.

Describe a favorite place, encyclopedia style, but lie.

San Francisco has always leaned a little to the left. They can not help it, as they are on the left coast. This makes them susceptible to rocking and rolling, which can be seen in the way the streets rise and fall, always drifting to the left where the Bay is.

San Francisco is known for the Bay and its cable cars. The two perform an intricate dance, an admirable work of wonder. The tracks & lines are laid carefully and precisely so that when the cable cars make their loop, the end up going under the Bay into the Bay Area Repeating Train tunnel to loop around and start their route over again. Visitors often forget to jump off the old-fashioned trolley cars, going under the bay for a view that is beyond compare. Sharks are often caught peeking at these out of reach snacks.

Lumbar street is the spine of the city. Unfortunately, it is a crooked, cobbled street that the cable cars cannot access except at its cross streets. Tourists must trundle up and down its steep incline on the power of their own two feet. Those who have tried to ride down on bicycle or skate board have found themselves at the bottom of the bay after a wild ride, facing off with hungry, hungry sharks.

Write a second version, as a blog, Instagram Post, travelogue, etc.

2nd version different narrator

So, like, I went to San Francisco to see Lumbar Street. More specifically, I wanted to ride down it. They told me there were gnarly wipeouts, but come on! How hard could it be? #Adventure! Especially if I used a long board and rode it down… while sitting on the board. I mean, like, they SAY it leans to the left…and you’ll end up in the bay… but you have to be there. You don’t get it till you get it. #hungryhungrysharks

I went down Lumbar Street towards the bay like a bat out of hell. I even got air! #SweetMoves. I was wearing heavy leather gloves along with all the safety gear #helmetssavelives. I had thought, like, I could use my hands to slow myself down before launching myself into the Bay. Unfortunately, #IamaKlutz. I started to take my arms down from around my knees, the board wobbled and hit a rock, launching me into the air, over the barrier and into the Bay.

Thank you to the Aquarium on the Pier for starting #vegansharks #peoplearefriendsnotfood. Thank you for also calling #caltrans to come fish me out. I am really sorry about the dented BART car #sosorry. And thank you to SF General for the #topnotch care that like, really really touched my heart. And thanks for the tee-shirt #Isurvivedbeingsharkbait

Copyright 2020 Wynelda Deaver

Widow’s Walk

(I wrote this in response to a class assignment. It is inspired by a picture by Rob Gonsalves and the journey of a dear friend. )

Widows walk. They walk along the balcony, pacing out the nights. One step after another, chained to a mast that never comes into view. No skips, no hops for the balcony is dangerous. Weeping into the ocean doesn’t count if you are alone.

Widows walk alone, friends and family woefully out of step. They bear the isolation alone, watching the clouds skittle across the night sky, longing, wistfully, for a glimpse of the one who left them behind. They walk, they pace, they shiver and moan. Even among the crows, they are alone.

Widows walk alone into… . They carve out a path made of stone yet soft as sand. Night becomes day becomes night and still they walk their lonely halls of grief. Typhoons, monsoons, tsunamis break over them. The trick, the widows say, is to let them break. Let them rain down on you, absorb the fury and power of nature into yourself because otherwise it will burn you alive. The clouds on the horizon are puffy and white… or are they a sail in the wind… or will they change as they start to come in. Widows walk alone into…

The unknown. Once you are half of a hole (it’s wrong but it fits and oh how that hurts!) how do you become whole while only half of you is there? Once, you were whole all on your own. You didn’t choose to walk this walk, you didn’t ask for this you didn’t want this–never this– game of life that tossed the rules out on you– why did the rook take the queen– you didn’t know you didn’t want you didn’t mean in when you said you only wanted a minute alone youdidntyoudidntyoudidntyoudidnt

But still. Here we are.

Somber as a post.

Knowing.

Widows
Walk
Alone

Copyright 2020 Wynelda Deaver

#becausewecan: 82 Cards

A lot of things are going on in the world right now, and what we need is inspiration. The docotrs and scientists need inspiration to find a way to navigate us out of this mess. And we need inspiration to help us remain human and connected in a world of social distancing.

Some things happened the weekend of March 20th that inspired me. Some people inspired me. The first was Jennifer Pastiloff. If you dont follow her on Facebook or Instagram, you should. In the face of losing her livlihood, she decided to hang on by asking “How may I serve?” She did one of her classes online for a donation… to help feed others. To buy diapers, food. To help. She could have set it up and done her confrences that way– Zoomed her way into a paycheck. I still think she should consider it. But at this time, when we needed help, we needed to remember that you can always find 5 beautiful things right here and now… she gave me that reminder. That hope.

The other person that inspired me was Jon Bon Jovi. He did a video of the start of the song and asked that the people watching help write the rest. I don’t remember the name of the song, but i do remember thinking that he has already made an anthem for these crazy days. Because We Can. And also Army of One.

Those who know me know that Bon Jovi wrote the soundtrack to my life. At one point I toyed with writing a monologe set to their music. Is it any wonder that when I was looking for inspiration and comfort and the “Hell yes we can do this!” I turned to them, to the band that I grew up beside?

So.

How many have seen the meme about writing cards to seniors in rehab care facilities? On Monday night i got a wild hair and called the one Dad had been in here locally.  They have 82 people there. Writing cards is my super power. I dont just sign my name, I write. 

And then God laughed. I wrote Tuesday. I came home from work Wednesday and crashed (essential employee). I wrote Thursday. Ended up on the phoen a lot Friday, still wrote thouh. I wrote on my breaks. I wrote on my lunch. I wrote on Saturday and on Sunday morning. And at some point, your brain goes to sleep and magic happens and you’re just creating.

I delivered 82 cards on Sunday. All the cards opened with “To My Special Friend” and ended with the note that they are special and they are loved. I signed only with my first name. No phone number, no return address. Because while it would be great to know if the right card got to the right person… I am fighting my need for positive reinforcement.

I did it because I am an #Armyofone, and #becausewecan.

And also because Jen Pastiloff asked “How May I Serve?”