It’s a phrase we hear all the time. Songs have been sung, people pass it off as words of wisdom to the forlorn and the heartbroken. I found it in my horoscope today. The sentence before it stated that my emotions must not be ignored.
As advice, it sounds pretty. It lends to the imagination the idea that our hearts speak to us and can guide us on which way to go when we are unsure. But when we listen to our hearts, must we necessarily go in the direction we really want? Or does it mean that we should do what we know is right?
I wonder if cardiologists everywhere roll their eyes whenever they hear the phrase spoken aloud?
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…
Blog post of December 6th, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
There should be a word specifically for the feeling you get when you say something you shouldn’t have.
It happens to everyone, I’m sure. It’s the verbal vomit that comes out of your mouth in what we delicately label a faux pas.
It’s the facebook post that you realize was something that should have been kept a secret, or the mass email you thought you’d sent to only your best friend and closest confidant, just to discover your kids’ teacher is now aware that you have a yeast infection.
For things like this, the word “regret” doesn’t quite cut it. It’s that disconnect that separates good intention from devastating action.
Even the witty comment you think of half an hour after the fact, which is far less embarrassing but easily as annoying.
Communication impediment is too bulky. Linguistically challenged comes to mind… How about “linge”?
We could say, “Excuse me, I linged,” when we ask an acquaintance how her husband is, only to find out she just went through an ugly divorce. Or, “Damnit, I could have said ‘Duck!’ when the ball came flying through the air behind that guy, rather than ‘Watch out!’ making him turn and get it in the face instead. What a linge!”
Yeah, “linge.” It’s gonna be big.
Blog post of December 5th, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
I’m so frustrated! All morning I put off printing off my manuscript (the older one, not my new NaNoWriMo project) which is 503 pages long. I’ve been going through WordPress themes, delivering newspapers, eating… generally doing everything I could to procrastinate. Finally, I said, ‘That’s it! I’m going to do it!’ (Yes, I talk to myself when I’m alone.)
So I went into the room where the printer is, and got started. Two hundred and fifty pages and I ran out of ink in an almost brand new cartridge. 250 pages! This thing is going to cost me $70 to print… and that’s just a draft!!
Who knew writing could be so bloody expensive?
So, my novelist buddies out there in WordPress land, and anyone else who prints vast amounts of text for whatever reason, do you take care of your own printing needs on your home printer? Or do you take it to a professional?
And either way, how do you afford to write?
Ugh.
Blog post of December 3rd, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
Is it a good sign that I want to blow up everyone in my NaNoWriMo novel? I’m thinking a nice gas explosion would come in handy right about now. Unfortunately that would mean killing off the narrator. I doubt that would go over well in most literary circles.
I think the most creative way I’ve written for anyone to die has to be my story of the unluckiest man alive:
Every once in a while I come across an opinion piece in the newspaper or on the internet, stating the importance of Vitamin C in preventing and even curing illnesses. By far the most astounding account of it is this:
in which Vitamin C was apparently proven to cure leukemia in a child. The data is actually quite convincing.
I stumbled across the concept by accident years ago, when I realized that if someone else in the house had a cold, or if I felt the beginnings of one in myself, if I took at least a 1,000mg (1 gram) pill, I could avoid the cold altogether. This didn’t work, however, when we all had H1N1, but then again, according to the article, maybe I just didn’t take enough.
It seems to me that there’s enough evidence that Vitamin C works, that it brings up once again the subject of the big pharmaceutical companies having the monopoly over the market, and that doctors are perpetrating their hold on our wallets.
Nevertheless, I urge anyone who hasn’t already to try taking 500 – 1,500mg per day, in the case of the common cold. You can’t, from what I understand, overdose on Vitamin C, though it is thought best to be taken throughout the day rather than in one large dose, as anything more than is necessary for your weight and size will just go straight through.
It’s cheap and it works. On what, we have to trust the “experts.”
Twins. Part of the plot in my NaNoWriMo project required a case of mistaken identity, so instead of having one protagonist, I’m writing one and a half. I call the twins “one and a half” protagonists because I’m writing in the first person – so I’m getting all of what one of them thinks and only half of what the other does. They’re both good guys, Marcel and Max are. Decent men from a good family – very much the same in many ways.
As usual, something happened in real life which made me contemplate the differences between siblings. In this case it was a conversation with the lady who manages the dry cleaner on my paper route. She has two granddaughters who she loves to talk about. She was telling me how unalike they are, even though they’re very close in age. This is a subject (among many) that has always fascinated me, being an only child. My own children didn’t grow up as siblings usually do, since they all have such physical differences, so it’s something I must study from a distance.
The difficulty I’m experiencing in my novel is that the twins, Marcel and Max, sound the same when they speak. It makes sense to me that they should, but they end up coming out like these guys:
Not all that polite mind you, but they speak exactly alike.
Once NaNo is done and I can put some thought into it, I’ll work on finding something unique about the two, which will come out in their speech. But in the meantime, I’m wondering what about their natures, and not their nurture, can help my readers to tell them apart.
Have you ever written siblings and come across this problem? Let’s learn from each other!
I’ve been seriously thinking about how much my own tastes influence my fiction. The other day, my characters were in a restaurant and I purposely made them order something I, personally, wouldn’t eat.
It occurred to me that maybe I’m thinking about this too much – micromanaging my story. But the fact is, they’ve gotta eat. And I find it boring and not really credible that they’d like ALL the same things I do. If for no other reason than every character in every story I ever write always eats the same group of foods, I feel like I have to change it up once in a while.
Is this something you’ve put any thought to? If you’re a vegetarian, do you ever have your characters eating a nice juicy steak?
How else do your characters not reflect your tastes? (Human characters, that is.)
I read once, when my kids were very young, that a baby who laughs when it is startled is a baby who trusts his or her mother. It’s something that I found followed through to their toddler years and beyond. I joked with my kids that I was going to do horrible things with them; cook them and eat them for dinner for instance. They’d laugh, knowing I would never do such a thing, because they trusted me.
There was one instance that I will never forget and I try not to regret for the simple reason that it taught me something.
I was leaving the pool where Alex was, at the time, doing physiotherapy. He wasn’t walking yet at the time, so he must have been less than five years old. I carried him out of the building, loaded with purse, swimming clothes and Alex all in my arms. I remember it was cold. I put him down on the curb in front of the car but to the side where I could see him, so I could wrestle my car keys out of my coat pocket. Had a car come, I was prepared to stand in front of it to prevent him being hurt. I proceeded open the doors and put the bags in. Then I waved goodbye to him and pretended to get into the car, expecting him to laugh. He knew I would never leave him there by myself. But instead of laughing, he smiled at me and waved back.
Whether he didn’t understand the joke or not, the vision of that tiny little boy sitting bundled against the cold, waving goodbye to me with a trusting smile on his beautiful, innocent face, still brings a tear to my eye.
Our children live in the world we construct for them. Whether they are healthy or sick, they can learn to be happy from us as parents because they trust what they see – the example we set. Alex spent the first eight months of his life in the hospital. All he has ever known, from birth, is pain. To this day he wakes up almost every morning with reflux, trying to vomit past an operation he had at six months of age called a fundoplication – basically, a knot was tied in his esophagus to prevent anything coming up. And yet he is the happiest child I’ve ever met. Other people observe this and ask me if he’s ever unhappy. It’s all he’s ever known. He sees me deal with his morning time retching with ease and he is reassured that it’s normal.
One day I know he will find out that it’s not. Will he stop trusting me at that point? I have no idea. It’s for sure that I’ll have the task of assuring him that even if it’s not something everyone experiences, it’s just the way he is, and that’s okay.
The point I’m trying to make I suppose, is that our children are our sponges. They take from us what we show them, and whatever that is, they trust it, because from the very beginning, we are all they know. I hope, for my own part, to preserve that for as long as their personal experiences away from me will allow. And that they will continue to laugh all their lives.
Write what you know; write what you know; yes, yes, okay we get it already. But have you ever wanted to write who you know? Fictionally that is.
When I write, I write characters. Plots in my stories, are secondary. I take, for instance, a scenario, ask ‘what if?’ and off I go. Once I have a character in place, they decide what happens in the circumstance I put them in.
I know a few people very well. Family, friends – I can’t help but know them. The people I don’t know very well, I study. I watch the way their expressions change when they talk about certain topics that they love or which scare them… you get the picture, right?
But there’s that saying again. That rule. Write what you know.
Now say, for instance, I was to write about someone I adore. They probably wouldn’t mind. They’d be able to hold my bestseller up high and say, ‘This is about me!’ and they’d be proud to do it. But what if I wrote about someone who I don’t respect? Or someone whose personality is less than scrupulous? I wouldn’t use their real name, of course. And the story would not be the one they lived in real life. But they’d know. And I’d know that they knew. And then I’d have to wonder; are they planning to do something devious to smite me? After all, they aren’t the most the most pleasant person to deal with in the first place. How far will they go?
Write what you know. I know very little about ‘things,’ but I know a lot about people. About characters and what makes people tick.
Have you ever ‘written’ someone you know, fictionally? How would you feel if someone ‘wrote’ you?
: luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for
: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for; also: an instance of this
The above is according to Merriam-Webster online.
The most notable instance of serendipity in my life was the meeting, for the second time, of my children’s father.
Luc and I first met when we worked together in Aurora, a small town just north of Toronto. He came into my workplace and asked for my boss. The first time I laid eyes on him I remember thinking to myself, “And what the fuck do you want?” It had been a hectic day, or so I tell myself twenty-eight years hence. I was, hours later, to find out that he was my new manager, and I thanked the heavens above that I hadn’t said out loud what I was thinking. We’ve laughed about it many times since.
Months passed, and he and I got along well. He’s a nice guy. Then he was transferred. A few weeks later I found out that he’d broken up with his girlfriend. I, too, had broken up with my boyfriend and was looking for a roommate. I offered, he refused. Shortly after he decided to go back to Montreal, to be close to family and we lost touch completely.
Seven years down the road found me living close to Ottawa. I’d been there for a couple of months and was heading back home to see my mom near Aurora and I stopped for gas. Luc was there, working at the pumps. It was serendipity – fate, if you will. A year later we moved into our own house and I was pregnant with our first son.
Three kids plus a few years later another seemingly serendipitous event occurred in my life. As it turned out, it wasn’t so lucky and my relationship with Luc ended. Perhaps it was fate, but if it was, I haven’t seen many benefits from it. I am single, yet again.
This all comes to mind because I met someone online, a couple of days ago, with whom I have a great deal in common. Whether it will continue into a lasting friendship or fizzle into nothing as these things sometimes do, remains to be seen. But for now it feels like fate.
We never know what fate will drop in our laps in the next instant. We can only hope to have great serendipitous events, that brighten our outlook, that give us hope for the future, and that help us to believe that maybe there is such a thing as good luck.
Serendipity can take us to important periods of our lives, which may seem to have been fated to happen. On the other hand it could be some little thing, like losing and then finding a piece of jewelry. Just about everything leads to something, right?
What is your best serendipitous event? I’d love to hear about it. If it’s really wonderful, why don’t you blog about it? Just please be sure to put a link in the comments here, so I don’t miss it.
lindaghill.com 