creative me

I think deep in the heart of everyone is this intense desire to create.  Something.  Anything. Music.  Stories. Food. Art.  I always desire to create something.  But I find that often I have a difficult time settling down long enough to create anything.  My mind wonders and gets distracted.  I'm little a butterfly alighting on one flower only to notice the brightness of another.  I have a difficult time sticking to it. 

Tonight I created an apple pie for the mystery dinner I prepared for some girls at work.  I enjoy baking.  Maybe it's because I'm creating from scratch.  I swear it really is one of the nicest looking apple pies I've ever made.  I hope it tastes as good as it looks.

This idea of creating makes me think of God.  I think we must want to create to feel closer to him.  He is, afterall, the great creator.  He made us beings with this creative spirit inside.  I think he must be pleased when we create beautiful things for others to enjoy.  It makes me want to create more often.

finished another mystery

I finally got off the fence and finished up the murder mystery I was writing for the girls at school.  Good thing, too, since tonight is the night.  It should be a total blast.  

I really got into the last round this time.  I was very descriptive and really into it.  Then it occurred to me that that was probably because I haven't written much lately.  The creative part of my brain is dying of thirst!  I need to feed the writer within.  

old times

I was talking to some students today about the stories I wrote when I was in school, and I remembered my favorite.  For the life of me, I can't remember the title or even the main character's name, but it wasn't too bad for a 7th grader.  The main character (a girl I remember who had perfect hair, but a terrible judgment when it cam to her boyfriend) whose boyfriend suffered from multiple personalities.  Oh, and did I mention that he was a psycho killer?  Well, he was!  He'd managed to kill off his wife and three children and then terrorize our main character.  She managed to get away and lived happily ever after (I can't say the same for the poor murdered family...I remember that the children were Tamera and Tara and something else that started with a "t").  I need to find that story and just read it.  It's certainly nothing that I want to re-write, but it is fun to see where I've come from in my writing.

Unfortunately, I can say that I've barely thought about my writing recently.  Too many things on my mind and in my life.  I know that I have to make it a priority if I want it to pan out, but I don't know how right now.  I guess I just need to start budgeting my time better.  I need to go find that story now...memory lane beckons.

add some mystery to life

I've started writing on something that is not a book or a short story.  I've found I really enjoy writing mystery dinners for larger groups. I've done this a few times, and I'm working on one right now.  It actually takes a lot of my creative juices to come up with new characters, new scenarios, and unique ways to kill off the victim.  How do you top lopping off someone's head with a painting?  

I'm planning of doing this most recent game with my female students, and I'm sure they'll have a blast...well, I will at any rate.  The one bummer for me is that I don't actually get to participate in the night as a suspect.  I usually oversee the production and guide the participants. 

I just need to find a way to market this!  

sloshing through the mud

I've decided that sometimes writing is more like trudging through a pit of mud.  Imagine being knee deep in the thick, porous, brown gunk.  You're covered in the messy stuff from head to toe (there's even a little bit in your ear).  It doesn't matter how you got here, but here you are and you need to get to the island you see.  The island looks like an oasis, and it's ready to welcome you with open arms.  Unfortunately, you have to get through this mud first. 

At first, the going isn't too bad.  It's just a matter of lifting your leg up high enough to be free of the mud.  Sometimes you're successful and sometimes your shoe gets sucked off in the process. You think to yourself, "I can do this.  I can defeat the mud and be victorious!"  But give it a couple of feet and then you will feel the mud start to glue you down.  It's as though your being sucked into the vortex of mud.  You get tired and can barely nudge your foot, much less get your whole leg out of the stuff. All you can do is rest.  But, the longer you rest, the harder it is to get moving again.

Sometimes that's how my writing feels.  I get momentum going, and I do really well, and then suddenly I find myself stuck in place staring at the oasis.  And that oasis?  That beautiful place of respite and rest?  It seems nothing more than an illusion where if you're lucky you'll find a place to sit.  Who knows if it will give you all that it promised at the beginning of the journey?  

abrupt endings

I really hate when I'm enjoying a book and it ends abruptly.  I just finished reading Margaret Brownley's novel, A Lady Like Sarah, and while I enjoyed it, I thought it ended quickly. The story is about Sarah, the youngest in a family of outlaws, on her way to Rocky Creek to be hanged for a crime she didn't commit and Justin, a reverend from Boston who lost his post because a female parishioner didn't like being rebuffed.

 Truth be told, I wasn't that into the story for the first few chapters.  I felt that the relationship between the two leads seemed forced and was more based on sexual attraction rather than a deep understanding of the other.  They went quickly from the awkward beginning stage to loving one another.  I wanted to know Sarah and Justin deeper than I did.  As the story progressed however, I really enjoyed the conflicts Ms. Brownley forced her characters into (although there were more random incidents than I normally find in books) and the tension towards the end was well done.  

However, I was mildly annoyed that the only way Justin could think of saving Sarah from the gallows involved lying and encouraging her to escape justice.  What was even more annoying was that he never had to come clean about the lies; it was all brushed under the carpet under the guise of "for the greater good" of a baby.  I wanted him to rescue Sarah using his wits or his trust in God or the faith that a miracle could happen.  Sarah, on the other hand, was more than willing to trust her fate to God's hands.  

Overall, the story was enjoyable, however the ending seemed to pat.  The brothers decided to go straight (I'm sure they'll pop up in the sequels) and never faced any consequences for robbing numerous stages.  It seemed a little contrived as though the author realized she was running out of space and figured she could get to it in the next book.  

I enjoyed "A Lady Like Sarah" enough to read a sequel, and I hope that some of those loose ends would be addressed. 

autobiography finished

Well...I finished something!  I finished my 4 page autobiography.  Maybe now I can focus on some fiction.  Hmm...