My Muse

As a writer having not exactly writers block, but writer's procrastination, I decided to take a Leisure Learning course at our local McNeese State University. The class, Muse in Your Box: A Unique Approach to Creative Writing, was offered by Janice Repka, a professor and author that I had studied under before. Last week was the first of three two hour sessions, and I am already at my computer writing poetry! Our first class assignment was to envision what our muse would look like. It was a fun exercise that lead to this:



Dah Muse

My muse, she is chocolate clad in combat boots,
melting into thoughts,
a pound of whoop-ass for my insecurities.
A liquid nymph with multiple eyes
sees my blind spots – crystallizes ideas
that moment before dawn awakens into reality.
Filmy, billowing, smoke floats between my ears
curls through the gray matter,
sliding out my fingers, quickening my breath,
a flash on the monitor.


For more about Janice Repka go to her website at janicerepka.com

The Short term of it.

My memory has been bothering me the past 10 years. I've never had what would be called a quick intellect. The gray cells of my mind have always leaned more to the slow and steady variety, traveling around the wrinkles of my brain several loops before they discover the right electric pathway. But, of late, my memory actually seems a little clearer. (Maybe I just can't remember what I was like.) However, I chalk up this small success in mental prowess to de-stressing my life. I've decided it's OKAY to forget someones name, or to forgive myself if I lock my keys in the car - last week. It's okay that I'm not perfect. What a relief.

I didn't realize how many people are concerned about their memory until a friend sent a download of a video that I found funny, if not a little scary. There is solace in the proverb, "misery likes company." I'll attempt to share (the video). Please forgive me if I fail.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzSaoN2LdfU

January I hit the road running, attending the Pulpwood Queen's convention, better known as the Girlfriends Weekend, with host Kathy Patrick and 300 other quests in the little Texas Town of Jefferson. It was a great time meeting new and used authors from around the country. I brought home a stack of books; enough to keep me busy until 2012! I just started reading an old favorite, To Kill A Mockingbird. Makes me want to rent the movie.

On-the-fly and Off-the-cuff

It's Monday morning, and I'm at my son and daughter-in-law's house babysitting the plumber. The man probably wouldn't like my analogy, but your children are yours, forever. Life has its cycles. One day you're rocking the next you're putting out fires, sometimes literally. The good news is my imagination is portable and so is technology. The lap-top is humming and after the new sink is delivered I'll go to the post office with a contest entry. If I would win (or heaven for bid when I get published) I doubt anyone will think twice about the accomplishment, but the dividends for being a mother are beyond number. Sometimes I get to babysit our grandson and sometimes it's the plumber. Life is good.

Sanity, an Evanovich Moment

I keep saying maybe tomorrow will be the day, but so far, NO. This blog is the sum total of my writing. School started today, and I loved having my grandson for four days while his mother, a teacher, reported back to school; but somehow, I'm now WEEKS behind. Dozens of things all seem to be due - yesterday. Ahh, the life of a volunteer. The only thing worse than failing at a job, is failing at a job where you can't get canned. It is like the proverbial Hell stone that you can never roll up the hill.

Although too tired and strung out to concentrate and write, I have been able to read Janet Evanovich's latest Plum novel, Sizzling Sixteen. A fast and fun read, Stephanie Plum's I Love Lucy antics are always entertaining. Evanovich is the master of slap stick.

Amy Dickinson, A Mighty Queen Herself

All the "how-to-write" books say to be a good writer one must read. Well, I'm not getting much writing done these days, but I am reading.

Amy Dickinson, the advice columnist, has a book entitled The Mighty Queens of Freeville. Not to be confused with the Pulpwood Queens of Jefferson, TX that I wrote about a week ago, this is a sweet, comical, and honest look at Amy's life. Writing reminiscent of Erma Bombeck, but calmer with less shtick, Amy shares her life as a single mom. In a society that is sorely lacking in moral values, Amy gives us a glimpse of living through adversity, clinging to the best of small town America, and to the women who instilled in her faith and reason.

Going Home

Recently my husband and I made a pilgrimage north to our birthplace. I used to say, we went home, but with the passing of my parents in recent years, there really is not much there for me that feels homey. I enjoy visiting in-laws and cousins, but it's not home.
My mother was a wise woman. When we moved twelve hundred miles away to start our young married lives and took their only grandchild, Mom insisted they maintain a second residence on a sleepy clear water lake. Her philosophy was if they had toys, we would come home to play. And for over thirty years, we made the trek twice a year, winter and summer.
Two hard days driving, four kids in a van, we drove all night, taking turns sleeping, to visit with family and play at the lake. The cottage was a simple two bedroom box that smelled musty, but we reveled in our days spent there. Wet bathing suits and flies, or snow sledding and hot chocolate, it was a home away from home. Hospitality is what my parents spread on their gift of love. We went to be close to the familiar and bask in their love, but if it had not been so inviting and comfortable, we would not have gone near as frequently.
Now our chicks have flown the nest. What castles and candy can we offer to draw them home?