Another prompt writing!

Whoa, holy neglected blog Batman! But I found a new enjoyable writing prompt tonight so I'll publish it now before I have time to think about it and doubt myself:

"It was a witchy house: the low-slung roof; that quiet gray paint; those squinting, shuttered windows; and the empty porch rocker that rocked, rocked day and night."* Stella knew at first sight it would be perfect for her. Now that Brian had left her she was completely doomed to become that strange spinster lady the neighborhood children feared. They wouldn't think she was mean, just a bit strange in an unsettling way. They'd sense how badly she wanted one of them for her own, and how sad she was that it would never happen.

But she could still make herself a happy enough home here. Colorful curtains could replace the shutters and would make the gray paint look tranquil in contrast. The yard was sunny enough for flowers and Stella pictured many spring and summer afternoons puttering between outside and in, doing odd jobs of housekeeping, gardening and creating.

Brian had always wanted her to keep her projects tidy and out of his sight until they were finished, but now she could work openly and freely. What a relief to not have to constantly put things away only to take them out again! One of the three bedrooms would be devoted to artistic pursuits and never require tidiness, only organization.

And the second spare bedroom would bring Stella just as much joy because it would be he guest room. Brian's habit of working from home without working in his home office made having guests difficult since they couldn't do anything without interrupting. Now Stella's parents, sisters, nieces, nephews and far-flung friends could come and feel welcome for weeks at a time. The favorite, Krissy, would be the first visitor in just a few weeks to celebrate her 13th birthday. She'd surely help Stella decorate the room to make it cozy and inviting.

So yes, Stella could make her new witchy little house perfectly bewitching for her new life.

***

Life update: spent last summer learning how to sail and letting my husband learn how to fly planes. Am considering becoming entrepreneurial and launched an Etsy site to set the waters (www.etsy.com/ca/shop/BecBlooms) and it takes up way more time than I feel like it should, as does my day job. But life's good!

*from Writing Magic by Gail Carson Levine

I'm pleasantly surprised by this twenty minute response to the 10 euphonious words prompt:

The lovely newlywed gazed up at the window valance. She wasn't sure what her she liked it or not. It was one of the myriad things that had come into her life along with her husband, his house, and his family that she just had to adjust to adjust to. Not all of them would be winners, but she and Richard would work things out. Celia relished the prospect of building their future together.

The first sip of tea shot a fiery pain into her right molar. She'd have to see the dentist about that. The sensitivity started right before the wedding and she hadn't had time to get it examined with the preparations and honeymoon and all.

"How's the tea dear?" Her mother-in-law asked. They were having their weekly cuppa together.

"Lovely, thank you," Celia answered with a smile. She felt like a horrible liar, but she was so anxious to please Mrs. Whittingham - "Mother" now, although Celia avoided saying it as much as possible - that it was unimaginable to complain about a toothache. Mrs. Whittingham would blame her for not brushing more carefully, or say it was her own fault for not seeing the dentist right away.

A new song on the radio caught Celia's attention. The singer's mellifluous voice ran through her like a low voltage charge, awakening a warmth inside. The jazzy number was richer than most songs Celia listened to and she found herself thoroughly enjoying it. Jazz was new to her, and wonderful.

"Oh dear. I don't care for this at all. Let's have another station now." Mrs. Whittingham moved the dial before Celia could protest. "I'm surprised they'd play that new-fangled American noise on the radio."

Celia could only nod politely in agreement. She wanted more of what she'd heard. Now that this feeling was unleashed she needed to explore it. She knew there were jazz clubs in London, but obviously didn't know anyone who'd been to one. She'd have to be discreet in her research because she didn't think Richard or "Mother" would find this new interest to be in good taste. But she wouldn't let their narrow minds stop her.

I swear I'm not just being bad or procrastinating or unable to write. I'm just SO DAMN BUSY! Trying to write a novel in the same month I have to account for every trip out of Canada in the last nine years, and documentation to prove it, along with having to explain all of my social ties to Canada, and working late at least a couple of nights every week mean that I'm just not on top of anything. But more writing will follow!

Halloween's Almost Here!

Blech! Spider web to the face. Gross, and completely appropriate for Halloween. Thin, sticky threads are matted in my eyebrows. The now-homeless spider had better not be nearby.

A centaur gallops up to my door before I can clean myself up and get inside.

"Trick-or-Treat!"

"Sorry kid, I don't do candy."

"But I said 'Trick-or-Treat.' That means you have to give me something."

"No it doesn't. There's no Halloween contract I signed. No law makes me. Go away now."

"Okay. But if you don't give me a treat then I get to play a trick on you."

Damn. The kid knows the history. A few years ago I wouldn't have expected it, but now that there's Wikipedia I guess I should know better.

"Good luck with that, little guy," I tell him as I slip through the door and close it in his face. I'll just have to be prepared for an egg in the mailbox or some t.p. in the morning. But I don't want to deal with anyone anymore tonight.

I'm so tired that I can barely stumble into bed before falling asleep.

Man, this morning I feel icky. All sticky and cotton-mouthed. I can hardly move. WTF? It's like I've woken up in a Kafka story to find myself in a giant spider web.

That little brat!




This is another product of Word Whips. I don't know how they have prompts that almost always work for me and almost no one else does.

An Opinion vs. an Argument

I've had a few conversations with various people recently where we have differences of opinion and I can't decide if we're actually arguing or just have different views. I used to be a very argumentative person and have worked to change that and mellow out, but how do I balance that with expressing that I have the right to disagree?

The second challenge for me has been that after these conversations I'll find out that he person I was talking to used incorrect evidence to make a point or I'll remember something to support one of my points that wasn't believed. I've just been letting it go, but it's frustrating because I want to say, "See, I  am perfectly justified in having this opinion. I'm not saying you're wrong, but you don't get to say I'm wrong either." I need to find a non-argumentative way to follow up on previous conversations. Or to not care about what other people think.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving!

One of my previous posts was "how does your family do turkey" and at the time my family doing turkey was having a friend prepare it. But since then, I've actually cooked a couple of darn good turkeys. So I can proudly say that I cook my own birds now, thank you very much. Remember, there's no point in being intimidated by something you might want to try.

Old people can be cool

A little while ago we went on a tour of Vancouver because it was advertised as a free community bus tour with stories about the city. Everyone else on the tour was at least a decade older than us. At first I felt silly, but watching all these older people actually talk to each other and introduce themselves to us made me feel like actually young people should be more open and outgoing.

Then a few nights later we went to hear a co-worker's dad's band play at the local Legion. As soon as the set began a group of middle-aged and older people started dancing. They were so unselfconsious and obviously enjoying themselves that it made me think again that maybe my generation has really missed out on something by being so unfriendly.

But then someone pointed out that maybe these guys were like us when they were young and they've just gotten less self-conscious with age. I hope so because otherwise we have a lonely future to look forward to.