I’ve discovered a talented young writer! I met Ainsworth through my fiction blog, and he’s just amazing. Won’t you please go visit him, read his work, give him some encouragement and a follow, too? Thank you!
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DISCLAIMER:Now, once again this is a work of ‘Fiction’. Now before you start reading I would like to give a Shout Out to Linda G. Hill! Thanks for providing me with a new perspective on how to make sense of these prompts! It is very much appreciated! 🙂
Once again, this post was inspired to me by ‘The Daily Post‘ October 17th Prompt – Urgent. Enjoy!
2:04AM: ‘FINALLY! I KNOW WHAT TO WRITE!’
‘URGENT!’ The word echoed through my mind. You know, the worst part wasn’t the word itself. Oh no, I had become accustomed to living my life with a degree of urgency. But, the reminder that every morning there is another outstanding bill, that is long overdue never failed to but a damper on my mood.
I always knew that being an adult wasn’t going to be easy, that’s what they all told me…
It’s the time of year again for the Kingston Writer’s Festival! I bought tickets for seven events this year, one of which was last night at the Grand Theatre.
I had the pleasure to attend an interview with Annie Proulx, of Brokeback Mountain and The Shipping News fame, and Emma Donoghue, who, most famously so far, wrote both the novel and screenplay for Room. Both lovely ladies talked about and read from their newest releases, Barkskins, (Proulx) and The Wonder, (Donoghue), and I must say both books sound fascinating.
The best part of the evening, for me as an author, was when they talked about writing. I nodded my head when Ms. Donoghue said that if she were to describe where “home” is for her, it would be her laptop. Both authors agreed that when writing a novel, they live there inside it. It’s true for me as well. Emma also told a funny story about when she was writing Room, how she used her young son to figure out the logistics of escaping a rolled-up rug. I did the same, using my son to help me figure out the intricacies of a certain magic trick in “The Great Dagmaru.”
It was wonderful to be able to relate to two famous authors on a professional level – as professional as it can be to use your offspring as a prop, that is. And, of course, to be in the presence of greatness.
Most of the events I’ve signed up for to come are more for the sake of learning. A few are on the subject of writing non-fiction, in anticipation of putting together my memoir on parenting a Deaf child. I hope to update you all on how things are going throughout the weekend.
If a busser bussing tables runs into you in a restaurant, is it like getting hit by a bus? I’ve always wondered why they call it “bussing.” And why does my spell-check not like the word? Does it like “busing” better? Yes, it does. When I finish this post, I’ll check to see if it’s a Canadian spelling. Spell-check also doesn’t like “colour,” after all.
I never took a bus to school. It was only half a mile to walk, so they let me walk. Even when I was five and six, I was walking to school by myself. There weren’t many crazies about. But I do remember sitting on the curb on the way home from school one day with a friend, and we were throwing stones under cars as they went by. One woman stopped and yelled at us, even though we didn’t actually hit her car. By then we were getting good at clearing the wheels before the car got past. We stopped after the lady yelled at us… until the next day. I think I eventually got bored with it.
What I did do when I was little was make up stories in my head. All the time. That is something I still haven’t gotten bored with.
My kids have always taken the bus to school. When we lived in Gatineau, Quebec, the school board payed a student $5/day to sit with my Autistic son, Chris, on the bus. The first year a student we didn’t know did it, but after that they let his brother do it. Years later, I still have all that money sitting in a bank account for him, for when/if he decides to go to college.
I’m actually appalled at the fact that they no longer have an aide on the bus my Deaf son, Alex, takes to and from school. The bus driver doesn’t know sign language, and the kids, by the time June comes, are up to all kinds of antics. I should probably advocate for an aide.
Anyone who would like to participate, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do,
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As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
1. Make it one sentence.
2. Try to make it either funny or inspirational.
3. Use our unique tag #1linerWeds.
4. Add our very cool badge to your post for extra exposure!
Anyone who would like to participate, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do,
you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post, and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below. Please ensure that the One-Liner Wednesday you’re pinging back to is this week’s! Otherwise, no one will likely see it but me.
NOTE: Pingbacks only work from WordPress sites. If you’re self-hosted or are participating from another host, like Blogger, please leave a link to your post in the comments below.
As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
1. Make it one sentence.
2. Try to make it either funny or inspirational.
3. Use our unique tag #1linerWeds.
4. Add our very cool badge to your post for extra exposure!
When I came up with this week’s prompt, my outlook on “art” was so very plain. I was thinking, you know, art, music, writing… the “arts.” But now that I’m writing this post I’m realizing that everyone has an art that they’re good at. I might be an okay writer, and you might be a proficient draw-er, but how about all the other things we can be artful with?
The art of manipulation is one that comes to mind. Very big in the news these days – politics in particular. And how about the art of wine-making? That art is currently my friend. But hey, I only bottle it. My friend Al is the expert.
Some people turn their bodies into art.
Hell, some people do it daily before they’ll walk out the door.
I’ve never been one for make-up. I’ll put some on once in a blue moon… actually, there are more blue moons that have happened in my lifetime than there are occasions when I’ve put on make-up. I’m a little awestruck at how some women find the time to do it on a regular basis. Like women (or parents in general) who have the time to work outside the home and then come home and take care of their families.
We finally did the lemonade stand today (speaking of parenting). There was no art put into the lemonade itself. It came out of a carton. But Alex did make up some nice signs. Three of them said “Lemonade 25¢” and the one we put up down the street said “Lemonade $25.” Needless to say, we didn’t get a lot of traffic from that direction. Having said that, one man actually gave us $10 for 3 glasses, so we were close!
Apart from that it’s been a rough day. The dog has found a way under the fence into the neighbour’s yard, so I can’t let him into my back yard anymore. At least not until I can get some extra boards nailed up. Luckily he didn’t decide to take a dip in their inground swimming pool.
Escaping is an art, isn’t it? Yeah, let’s go with that to get me back on track before I end the post.
When I had my first child, I was told it was best to rock him about 60 beats per minute – the same as the average heart rate. I paid attention to that, and now it’s funny how I use that habit. Having a child (my third) with a heart condition makes it necessary to check his pulse occasionally. I can usually tell without looking at a clock if it’s fast or slow. Makes you wonder how they came up with how many seconds there should be in a minute, doesn’t it? And how it works out that our hearts beat, on average, the same number of times the clock ticks by the seconds in an hour, a day, a month, and a year. It’s like we power the universe!!!
Mind blown yet? Mine is.
My first child flew the coop today for the first time. Literally. He’s gone to Florida to see his girlfriend. It was his third time on a plane (we went to England together in 2007) and his first time on one alone. He must get that from me. So I’m looking after his cats for the next week. He didn’t ask about them when he texted me to say he’d made it. Girlfriend. Right.
My second son has the travel bug too. He wants to go everywhere, but he can’t go alone. That darned Autism thing. And my third son – I’m sure he’d love to go places too. But with his health conditions, insurance would be astronomical. Which leaves him with going only one way… up.
To the moon, Alex! Haha. I actually make myself laugh sometimes.
“If you let the dog out of his crate, you’re not getting your lemonade stand today.”
That’s how today’s disaster started. Over and over again I tell my mentally delayed son that if he doesn’t do as he’s told, he’ll suffer the consequences. And over and over he goes ahead and does the opposite anyway. And then we all suffer the consequences.
I’m sure he understands the “if/then” concept. But like a two-year-old (he’s 15), he enjoys pushing his boundaries. He is, in fact, caught somewhere between the terrible twos and puberty. The “what ifs” and “I can do what I want.” And it’s scary.
It’s been so long since I’ve raised a child in a normal situation, that I don’t really remember how long it usually takes a child to understand consequences. It’s normally after a few failures, isn’t it? I’m asking the parents of “normal” toddlers and young kids. If you add the deafness and the fact that Alex and I don’t speak the same language to the mental delay, my situation is hardly “normal.” I want to add to this that I am very consistent. If I say there will be a consequence, I stick to it, no matter how long the screaming, hitting, and breaking things goes on. Him, not me. But I’m tempted sometimes. 😛
To be fair, it’s not a very good day for a lemonade stand today anyway. It’s cool, cloudy, and there aren’t many people about. I promised him next week, if he can be good.
So instead he’s gone with his brother for a ride on the city bus. On the way back home I was listening to the radio in the car (from dropping them at the bus station) and the announcer said the following:
“Get your face painted or get your kids’ faces painted. It don’t matter.”
This in regards to a festival going on in the next town. Wouldn’t you think they’d hire people at a radio station with maybe not impeccable, but at least good grammar? Am I being too picky?
So anyhoo, if I’m not around too much next weekend, you’ll know I’m outside in my driveway selling lemonade. We’ll see what the weather’s like then.
I think it’s going to be a long month. I signed up for NaNo Camp but I haven’t written a word yet. I haven’t even opened the story that I want to finish off for the NaNo project. I’m kind of at that paralised stage at the moment, where there’s so much to do I don’t know where to start so instead I play a mindless casual game in order to escape the pressure. And so I got this image in my head that I wrote about on my fiction blog about half an hour ago as my SoCS post over there for today. It’s fiction, but only in the sense that I’m not quite at that stage yet. I might be, before August gets here. You’ll find the link to that post in the comments below the link for this one – it’s not a long piece.
I sometimes wonder where I belong, you see. I belong to my family and to myself, to the extent that I have my own interests to pursue. I signed up for the editing course I’ve been talking about forever. It’s online at Simon Fraser University in BC, Canada. If I can earn the certificate I will have the opportunity to get into Editors Canada, the highest qualification in the land. From there I may start working toward my English degree. But that’s a long way off. I need the editing courses to freelance and earn the money I’ll need to get my BA.
At times I feel as though I belong to the world of literature. I thrive there. At times I feel like I’m biding my time, waiting to get there. But my responsibilities will always be at home, to my kids. Now I have to decide what Chris, my middle son will do with the rest of his life. He’s ambitious but autistic and largely unable to secure a position anywhere for himself. He, too, would like to go back to school, to college, but he’s never been without one-on-one help. It’s scary for me to contemplate.
So many decisions, so little time. So much to do, and not long enough to do it. And yet, July will take forever to be over. What a paradox.
I often feel like a servant in my own house. Because of their disabilities, there’s a good chance I’ll always have to serve my children, to some extent.
But it’s something we all do, isn’t it? There are times when it’s much easier to do a thing ourselves than take the time to teach the kids to do it. In many cases it’s justified: while in the way out the door to an appointment, or getting ready for school in the morning, when we’re tired and just want to get the thing (whatever it is) over and done with. At some point we need to stop and teach though. We do our kids a disservice by waiting on them hand and foot.
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