She is sweet faced and dimpled, smiling gently at everyone in general, and no one in particular.  Kindness spreads from her like angel wings.  The glint in her eye is apple pie, and picket fences, and rosy-pink babies dressed in organic cotton.  It is hand-knit mittens, woolen socks, and comfortable shoes. It is coordinated decor, neat stacks, and pure-bred puppies.  It is intelligence focused humbly in one virtuous direction.

She will make her way through life one tiny, careful choice at a time, measuring each decision by a delicate code of balance that is nearly unconscious, for she has been loved well, and raised wisely.  She will listen before speaking, look before leaping, but perhaps unnecessary when decisions come easy to one who has been raised without doubt. Everything will progress as it should.  She will be made wife, and mother, and balance a steady, slow progressing career in between.  Fulfillment is not a question in the vocabulary of her psyche.  It is already here, and there is more to come.  Temporary plagues of inconsequential insecurities only serve to wrap support more snugly round her shoulders.

She is, in a word, unmarked.

With love,

P.S. If you would like to write your own word portrait, tips are here.

Throwing myself headlong into this November write-a-palooza has been rejuvenating and exciting, but more than that, it has introduced me to some new people offline and on, and I’d like you to meet some of them.

Thanks to Twitter, Networked Blogs, and various internet serendipity, there have been some new faces around here.  You’ve already met the newcomers to the 100 Word Challenge, like Gabriel Gadfly, Pattikens (turns out we’re neighbors, sorta), and Niqui.  Poets, aspiring writers, each interesting in their own creative right.

LouCeel, a longstanding 100 Worder, has been up to some new creative endeavors.  He is now helping to man The Inferno, where one of my word portraits was recently featured.   The Inferno is an offshoot of  The Artist Challenge.  You should check them out, especially if you’re looking for more inspiration.

Through a TweetDeck filter following NaBloPoMo and NaNoWriMo participants (well at least those on Twitter, and those who know to use #hashtags) I found College English.  She caught my eye when she tweeted something about 100 Words, and I found out she and all of her students are participating in NaBloPoMo to raise money for The United Way!  Bravo Debbi and students.  If you’d like to support them, here is the original post.

Finally, through Pattiken, I also found the social networking site, She Writes.  I’m very excited about it, even though I haven’t had time to join groups, introduce myself, or spiff up my profile.   Even though it’s called “She Writes”, it is open to the guys as well.  You know, if you can handle all that estrogen.

ALSO, I’m participating in Citizen of the Month’s Great Interview Experiment.  I’ll do an interview here on my blog of this blogger, and be interviewed by this one.

Whew.  That’s a lot of links.

With love,

The news that our school was to have a band was announced during a 5th-6th grade assembly.  Assemblies were exciting news in and of themselves.  Who knew what could happen at an assembly?  Maybe the hoped for petting zoo and circus wouldn’t materialize after all, but no matter, because we welcomed any opportunity to break up the monotony of class.

The principal of the school strode out to the middle of the school gym, center stage, and announced that our school had been awarded funds for music education.  We were going to have a BAND, for 5th and 6th graders only!  The instruments were paraded around and demonstrated, and after, we all jostled each other around to get to the sign up sheet like we were signing up to see Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.  We were that excited.  We were absolutely rabid to have a chance to play an instrument.

On the bus ride home that afternoon, all the kids were chattering about what instrument they wanted to play.  None louder than Snotty Dotty.

Snotty Dotty was my neighbor.  She was a “late” child.  All of her sisters were much older.  Teenagers approaching full on womanhood, and they were like aliens to me, frightening and wild and dangerous seeming.  They had boyfriends, and rode around in cars, and got to boss us around if they felt like it.  They knew things that they didn’t tell us, but they always had that look on their face when they watched us.

I didn’t like Dotty, but I was forced to go to her house after school every day until my parents got home.  She was a Momma’s girl, and all she ever wanted to do was play House with plastic baby dolls, and try and boss me around because her mom looked after me, and because her older sisters were always ready to threaten anyone that didn’t do exactly as their baby sister liked.  I didn’t get much opportunity to say no to Dotty.

On the bus, she was twisted around in her seat asking all the kids what instrument they were going to play.  The girls were all going for the clarinet and the flute, and the boys were all about the drums and the tubas.  I shoved my face up against the window, thinking about the flute.  Imagining the delicate shiny silver cylinder with its series of openings and keys, and the complex array of finger positions I would have to learn to make it sing.

I felt Dotty turn in her seat toward me, then she poked me in the shoulder.

“What are you gonna play?”

I looked at her pasty face eyeballing me, as the chatter went on behind her.

“The trombone”, I said, defiantly.

“What?  You can’t play the trombone.  That’s for boys stupid.”

“Well, that’s what I’m playing.  You’ll see.”

Dotty turned back to the bobbing rows of children, and scornfully announced what I had just said.  I heard the laughter erupt, and I shoved my cheek back up against the cool window.

You’ll see, I thought.

With love,

On day four, I came down with the flu.  Yes, that flu, but it was mild.  Just a bit of a headache, sore throat, mild fever, some floppy stomach stuff, and it knocked me out a lot.  And by a lot, I mean I was passing out while standing, faceplanting into my food, and otherwise suffering from hazardous spontaneous sleep attacks.  I finally decided it was probably best to just stay in bed where it was soft and safe, and to avoid foods I was liable to drown in.

All this sleeping got me to wondering if I wasn’t actually suffering from narcolepsy instead of that flu, and whether or not narcolepsy was an adult onset disorder, and if so, if I was in the age group.  So, with nothing better to do while lolling about in bed between sleep attacks, I looked it up.  Turns out I AM!  That is, I’m between 3 and 55, in case you were wondering.

According to the NIH, this narcolepsy, which I may or may not be suffering from, could be quite a handy disorder to have.  And since a definitive diagnosis can’t be made until 10-15 years after onset of the first symptoms, whose to say I don’t have it?  I started thinking about all the various applications of a nap attack disorder.  Disastrous blind dates, hearing your boss coming down the hall and knowing he’s looking for that report, when the PTA moms ask for volunteers to bake 1 bajillion cupcakes…are we understanding the power implications here?

Then I remembered I don’t do blind dates, bosses, or the PTA.  Meh.  I’m sure I’ll find a use for it, when the time is right.

I digress.  Lots more happened, but mostly related to some new bloggers I’ll be introducing you to tomorrow.  Also, don’t forget, tomorrow is Monday Memoirs, if you feel so inspired.  For now, meet Gabriel Gadfly, a poet, who picked up the challenge at the last hour, and in a very modern Renaissance man kind of way, wrote this poem while being fed prompts from Twitter:

What Loving You Was Like

Like the taste of wind escaping my hands.
Like tea gone cold, too steeped, unsipped.
Like letters, writ large upon a wall, such that
They can be read only one at a time
And the complete word never grasped.
Like time-travel science, sabotaged by itself
And terminated before it could learn its own extended secret.
Like a fat cat’s dream of gazelle in savanna grass,
Interrupted by the sound of a tuna can
Opening.
Like graffiti on train cars, constrained to tracks,
Observed and forgotten at the momentary
Crossing of paths, but remembered,
Perhaps with regret, by its artist.

In other words:

• A novel proposal by LCeel.
• A coveted mark by Patsy.
• Graffiti Writ Large by Patti.
• A Surprise Meeting by Angelgal.

That wraps up last week’s challenge.  If you are new to the 100 Word Challenge, go here.  The new challenge is from Living with the Devil, by Stephen Batchelor.

Examine

Now if you’ll excuse me, I suddenly feel sleepy.

With love,

I’ve been sick since yesterday so I’m sleeping more than writing at present.  I’m just stopping in to say, don’t forget, this week’s challenge is:

Writ Large

Once your post is up, leave a comment with the link so we can find you.  I’ll post the round-up tomorrow evening sometime.

With love,

Free writing, or “stream-of-consciousness” writing, is an interesting exercise that not only breaks through writer’s block, but often reveals thoughts and feelings on a topic we might not even be aware we had.  The point of a free write session is to not censor yourself.   You start with a prompt, and have no idea where it will end up.

Yesterday’s Thursday Thoreau quote inspired Pattiken to contrast Thoreau’s desire for simplicity with today’s modern technology and all the resulting “noise”.  Those of us in developed countries are merging with our machines and our relationships with them are becoming more dependent.  Have you ever seen the look of panic someone gets when they realize they’ve left their cell phone at home?  Or when their internet goes down for more than 30 seconds?  We are wired and connected, every waking hour of our day.  Is it for better or worse?  It depends on what aspect of our lives technology is affecting, and how.  But let me stop there, lest I defeat the purpose of a free-write.

The prompt is TECHNOLOGY.  Don’t think about it yet.  Set your timer for 15 minutes, and then GO!  Write non-stop for 15 minutes without stopping, no matter where the prompt takes you.  Stop immediately when the timer goes off.  No stopping, and no editing.  Now, if you’re brave, post it to your blog, and leave a comment here so we can find it!

Here’s a treat for you when you’re done, a video trailer of a documentary on the Singularity, what some people believe is next in technology.  It’s best not to watch it until after you’ve done your free-write.

The Singularity Documentary Trailer 

With love,

You know, when I proposed this theme for November, I didn’t have a clue what it would actually be about.  And I still don’t.   I mean, I could have us all go live in the woods for the day and write about how terribly wonderful it was to live without Twitter and Crackbook and Texting, but that seemed a little…ambitious.  Then there’s always civil disobedience.  THAT would have made for some fun stories.  But, no.

By all means, by the way, if you WANT to not pay your taxes, or remove yourself from society as we know it, I won’t stand in your way.  Just be sure to write me a letter from the cabin.  Or jail.  Whichever.

So what’s left?  Why, quotes of course!   So for all the Thursdays in November, I’m going to pick a Henry David Thoreau quote and post it here, and YOU get to write whatever comes up from that quote.  Start a debate, write a story, agree, disagree, w h a t e v e r.   Post it, comment here, and I promise to come visit you and leave chocolate super-fab, geeky-sexy comment love.

This Thursday’s Thoreau quote: Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still.

Because if that doesn’t sum up the insanity of NaBloPoMo and NaNoWriMo, I don’t know what does.   Happy writing!

With love,

A writing meme in November?  You might wonder if this is just a happy coincidence since it’s day 4 of NabloPoMo and you’re a l r e a d y banging your head against the desk and asking the writing gods WHY, WHY, WHY.  No Internet, this is not a coincidence.  I just can’t help myself from helping a blogger out.  You’re welcome.

Here’s how it works.  Write a short “word portrait” of someone you know (or don’t know), post it on your blog, and leave a comment here.   And don’t forget to say “Walla!” when you’re done.  Because it’s satisfying, that’s why.

These “portraits” are word paintings of a person, a short description, but much more than that.  The way I write mine varies somewhat, and you can see examples here, and here, and here.  Aaaand, there’s more in the sidebar under “Portraits”.

Sometimes they are written about someone close to me, sometimes they are written about someone I know only a little, and sometimes they are written about someone I saw in passing.

Since I don’t have a conscious method, I can’t give you an exact formula to write your own portrait, but for what it’s worth, here are some tips (this is the part where I give away magic secrets):

1. Don’t necessarily “look” for someone to write about.  In other words, don’t try too hard.
2. Don’t try to think of the most interesting person you know, or try to find the most interesting person in the room.  Start with whoever is right in front of you.
3. Take your brain like a Halloween candy bucket, and empty it out  (eeeeewww Mom!  Someone gave us brains in our bucket!).  Now, with your emptified mind, just observe and experience this person.  If they are familiar to you, empty your mind anyway, because trust me, there’s always more to “see”.
4. As you begin to have thoughts, DON’T WRITE THEM DOWN YET!  This is important.  This is like when you’re listening to someone talk, and one and a half sentences in you’re not listening to them anymore because you’re already thinking about what you’re going to say.  Yeah, this is bad, and you’re probably missing a whole lot of stuff.  You need to get out of your own head so that you can “receive”.
5. Spend a good 10 - 15 minutes just quietly observing.  Let the thoughts bubble softly.  You should start to notice that certain sentences or words are starting to re-occur or get “louder”.  These are what you want to write down first.
6. Now you’re ready to write.  Start with those words or sentences that were re-occuring or louder, and then flesh the portrait out from there.
7. Like a portrait, you are not looking to capture every detail of a whole life, but just one moment, one impression.

Wait.  That sort of looked like a conscious method, didn’t it?  Well, take it all with a grain of salt.  Write for you, and do it as it works for you.  Any advice I give is only to help you if you’re stuck…by all means, don’t let it squash your creativity if you suddenly find yourself going in a WHOLE other direction.

I don’t know when I officially started writing  “portraits”, but I’ve always done them in my head.  I think that’s how you know you might be a writer.  When there are chapters and vignettes being written in your head on a more or less constant basis, and at some point, if you don’t start writing it down and getting it out of your head, all those words threaten to clog up the entire workings and land you in a padded room with only crayons for company.

That’s it.  Post by midnight, and remember to comment with a link to your post so we can find it!

P.S. Yes, I re-used an image.  I’m way too tired for Google Images at this hour.  Will fix tomorrow.  Probably.  Not.

P.P.S. Never mind, I fixed that.  I’m not a perfectionist, shut up!  As a bonus for my original sloppiness, here’s a time lapse video of the current art being made.  (Artist Justin Simoni)

Actually, all is going swell so far.  There is little time for procrastination, and putting myself in full writing mode for 12+ hours a day makes it all go a little, well, easier.  So, woot!

If you’re already participating, or this post inspires you to stretch yourself thin, you can buddy up with me for NaNo here, join my playspace at NaBlo here, and follow my Tweets here.  If being a part of the cheer squad is more your thing, stop by daily to leave encouraging comments here at the blog or on Twitter.  Actual cheers and “Ra Ra Ra’s” are encouraged.  OR, you can send me chocolate.  Chocolate is good.

I’m also rolling my brain over some November meme ideas in addition to the 100 Word Challenge.  All are based on writing/story-telling.  Here’s the proposed layout:

• Monday Memories - Childhood memories/stories.
• Tuesday Tag-N-Tell - I’ll start a story and tag one of you.  You add a paragraph and tag someone else, and the story goes on…
• Wednesday Word Portraits - Word portraits (see category Portraits in side bar for inspiration).
• Thursday Thoreau - I’m not sure what this will look like yet…
• Friday Free Write - Topic posted Friday morning, you free-write on topic for 15 minutes.
• Saturday - 100 Words
• Sunday - 100 Word new challenge goes up.

I’m willing to do all, a few, one, or none of the above, and that all depends on you.  Let me hear from you on any of the above you would be interested in for the month of November, OR, if you have a great idea you’d like to see run here, tell me about it.

With love,

If you’re participating this year, or want to join the insanity now, let me know so I can shout it from the rooftop of my blog!

With love,