Writing Emotional Moments Archives - Writing Like a Dancer

WRITING THE POLITICAL MOOD

Posted on November 17, 2016 by writ7707 Posted in Character Description, Fiction Based on Fact, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Uncategorized, Writing, Writing about Young Children, Writing Emotional Moments, Writing Historical Fiction, Writing Inspiration, Writing Muse, Writing the Incident, Writing the Political Mood Leave a comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your Muse

Writing Leap #72

Hi Writers,

As writers we are in a unique position to express how we are experiencing events in the current political climate through fiction. Fiction enables us to make our point indirectly through showing rather than telling. Showing is always more powerful and immediate.

This new edit of my Thanksgiving post from last year sprung from my gut reaction to the current mood concerning women in our country.

The First Thanksgiving

He would eat standing up. To sit next to an ash-skinned man at a crowded table, maybe have to touch arms, would kill him.

He was fourteen.

He was a ferocious warrior.

And he would stand.

As far away from those moon-colored faces showing all their teeth as he could.

Which wasn’t far. He felt his father’s eyes flashing fire at him,

But even if his father suspected his thoughts he would never see them on his son’s face. The muscles around the young warrior’s eyes and mouth were as still as stone.

His weapon hung loosely at his side begging him to grab it.

Lots of gunfire this morning from this white settlement. Surely an attempt for a full out attack on his whole tribe. His blood raged. He would devour them. Chop them up like whale meat. He was well aware of how easy that would be for him.

She brought him a platter of paleface overcooked venison and stupid-looking cranberries. She was his age, he thought, but mush. Not hard and magnificent like his mother and his sisters.

“Seconds?” she asked. Washed out blue eyes. Worst of all she had yellow straw for hair. A freak.

He just stared.

He pinched her breast through her starched apron. Hard.

Her mouth flew open.

He didn’t have to look at his father to see the gesture of fury directed at him. It said, “Leave. NOW.”

As he turned to go the young girl took the platter of venison and cranberries and dumped the whole mess on his head. And then she did something surely God would punish her for. She gave him a hard pinch on his behind. He let out a roar, looked at his father and willed himself to stand stark still.

The girl walked back to her mother, sure of step and mouth set. She sat down at her place at the Thanksgiving table and forced herself to breath evenly. In a quiet voice her mother said to her, “Good.”

Last year the young girl fainted. That was last year.

Happy Writing and Happy Thanksgiving all you writers out there,

WRITERS AND POLLYANNA

Posted on October 2, 2016 by writ7707 Posted in The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Writing, Writing Emotional Moments 1 Comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your Muse

Writing Leap #71

WRITERS AND POLLYANNA

Hi Writers,

Pollyanna is a novel by Eleanor H. Porter written in 1913. It is a classic of children’s literature and there are several sequels. In her books Pollyanna found something to be glad about in every dire, sad, or unpleasant situation. In our modern collective unconscious a “Pollyanna” is for some a “goody two-shoes.” I, for one, do not consider myself to be a “goody two-shoes” by any means but I am immensely grateful for my flourishing, inner Pollyanna.

Think of the “Pollyanna” possibilities for your characters! A young man exasperated with his wife’s sunny disposition, a little girl in a hospital comforted by the “glad game,” or a grandfather who refuses to fill his life with negativity and makes the conscious decision to be content and enjoy his moments.

Here’s my most recent Pollyanna moment.

What to do with my set of totally outdated World Book Encyclopedias from the 1960’s, packed away in eight cardboard boxes? My husband and I simply had to clear out our overflowing closets. Strand second-hand bookstore in New York City didn’t want them. “Too many around,” they said. Ebay was not an option. Too heavy to ship.

Goodwill said they would take them. There may have been another place to bring them. A collector? But we couldn’t find one.

We pulled into the parking lot at a Goodwill Center. I felt horrible. The Goodwill worker ripped open the boxes and dumped the books into big bins. “But they’re supposed to be together!” I said. The worker shrugged.

I closed my eyes. My father, passed away a long time now, had given me those books. A glad, deep feeling of love dashed into my memory and my heart. A Pollyanna moment, triggered by sounds of the cartons ripping. I remembered and felt how generous and loving my father could be. I felt that love rush up again and I was enveloped in a warm, safe Daddy cocoon. Lucky me to feel it so immediately once more.

The memory segued into a moment when I was two. My father, who later built a successful business, was a salesman on the road at the time. It seems he skipped lunch to buy me a teddy bear, having enough money for only one or the other. I imagine his expression was the same excited one as when, many years later, he brought me Supplements to that 1965 edition of The World Book.

Plop. Into the dumpster bins. Thank you Pollyanna for turning this unpleasantness into sweet, deeply felt memories.

Happy Writing Everyone,

LINKING THE ARTS

Art

A statue of Pollyanna in Littleton, New Hampshire in honor of Eleanor H. Porter who lived there.

I really love Pollyanna.

Words: Optimism and Pessimism and all the gray shades in between can figure in the core of your characters.

WRITERS AND MEMORY BEAMS

Posted on September 21, 2016 by writ7707 Posted in Anecdote, Personal Writing, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Writing about Young Children, Writing Emotional Moments, Writing from a detail, Writing Inspiration, Writing Muse Leave a comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your Muse

Writing Leap #70

Hi Writers,

You know how the flash of a memory can suddenly bloom in your heart, full of feeling and clear visual details? These beams from the past can illuminate rich, loamy soil for story-growing. Another source of inspiration!

For me, the moment comes unbidded, unlike moments I may search to remember. That’s the beauty of a memory beam. It’s our muse whispering in our ears from deep down. I’ve found the moment usually carries a lot of emotion. I’m there. I feel it in my pulse.

I’ve even wondered if these memory flashes appear to writers for a reason. To push us to write? To understand? Or for me, this time, to relive a loving closeness between me and my then six-year-old son, G.J., thirty-three years later.

G.J. and Mama in Vermont. As it Really Happened and Brought Back by a Memory Beam

The long farm table in the small country dining room was set at one end for just four people; G.J., me and the husband and wife proprietors of a small inn near Sugarbush, Vermont. We were the only guests, there to ski.

Was that LASAGNA I smelled coming from the kitchen?! I looked at the wife as she brought in the warm fragrant dish and set it down in front of G.J. “Your Mom told me this was your favorite, favorite thing to eat. I made it special for you.”

I looked up at her sweet face. “How kind and wonderful. Thank you,” I said softly. The atmosphere called for softness. G.J.’s big brown eyes grew wide and his smile was sunshine on his adorable face. (I’m allowed this. I’m his mother.)

“Wow,” He said. “That’s a lot of Lasagna! Thanks!”

And later, “She doesn’t even know me and she made me Lasagna.”

After a day of skiing we tromp back into the Inn covered with snow. We had left a copy of “Charlotte’s Web,” a book we are reading together on the night table. The husband says, “I saw your book, G.J. Hope you don’t mind that I read it. One of my favorites from when I was your age.”

This tickles G.J. who was feeling so good about his runs down the mountain. He was a great little skier, advanced for his age, and I was hoping he believed me when I praised him and that he really felt it. Like most children, he had a little shy streak. I looked at him taking off his boots. I felt our special time together.

At some point the doorbell rings at the Inn and the couple greet friends. “Evening Brother John. Evening Sister Mary. Come in!”

Perhaps they were Quakers. I don’t know. But they created an environment where G.J. and I were so happy. I love thinking of them. I cherish the memory of our trip to Vermont, just G.J. and Mama. Thank you, my muse, for bringing it back in such a gush.

So Writers. If you like, create a story around a spontaneous memory. As it happened or as inspiration for your fiction. You never know when a memory beam will light up an idea. Here’s to your very own muse,

LINKING THE ARTS

Books: Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White

Sharing a book with a child is an act of love.

Word: Kindness. As shown by the gentle innkeepers in Vermont. The spontaneous whoosh that flows out golden and can make a child feel much loved.

WRITERS AND THE ENVIRONMENT

Posted on July 13, 2016 by writ7707 Posted in Anecdote, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Uncategorized, Writing, Writing about the Environment, Writing Emotional Moments, Writing Inspiration, Writing Muse, Writing the Vignette 1 Comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your Muse

Writing Leap #68

Hi Writers,

Delve into how your character relates to the natural world and see how you can evoke deeper aspects of his personality. Maybe he’s an obsessive recycler, a passion that comes from his relationship with his mother who refused to recycle anything. Or maybe your character scoffs at the idea of global warming because she’s a very conservative thinker. As with other grand issues like religion, love relationships, power struggles, your character’s take on the environment can reveal much about how he maneuvers through your story.

Here’s mine.

Gilly was happy to be an assistant counselor at Junior Environmentalists Camp for a hundred reasons. She loved that the campers and staff picked their way through the woods like she did, breathing in the oxygen offered by the trees, breathing out carbon dioxide to send back to them. She loved using electric lights and computers sparingly. She loved teaching her little campers not to pick the wildflowers. “Enjoy them where they grow! Aren’t they beautiful?” She was part of a huge commitment to revere the environment and the feeling of belonging to this little community assured her that she measured up, that she was on the right side of things and that consequently she was an appealing person.

Gilly also loved Jake, a fellow counselor. They shared the same birthday, July 29, when they both turned fifteen. They gave each other “Surviving in the Wilderness” manuals for presents. They had both read The Legacy of Luna, The Story of a Tree, a Woman and the Struggle to Save the Redwoods.

But Gilly had a shameful secret that burned in her stomach and chest. She was terrified of bugs. She couldn’t help it and she was in constant fear that some one would find out. One day in the woods with Jake and their campers she felt something crawling up her leg. Ugh! Involuntarily she slapped off a large, green, pokey thing, Ugh, and then squished it with her sneaker. She looked down. It squirmed. Then it didn’t. Dead.

“Oh,” she said. She felt her mortification pop out all over her. “I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“That was bad, Gilly,” Jake said backing away from her. “What did that bug ever do to you?”

He turned his back and walked away. The campers followed him. First they looked at Gilly in disbelief, then, Gilly could sense it, with disdain.

She was a fraud. For sure Jake thought so now. She had no business being in this camp. She was shallow compared to every other person here. Gilly flushed red and wished she could melt right into the leafy path and disappear.

End

Note: I could never just leave this story here. I would have Gilly find her gumption and most of all her sense of self-worth some other way and she would triumph inside herself!

Happy summer writing everyone. A perfect time to find your muse outdoors somewhere.

LINKING THE ARTS

Julia Butterfly Hill lived on a platform in a redwood tree for 738 days to protest the clearcutting of a grove of giant redwood trees in California. And then she wrote about it.

WRITERS AND THE FEAR OF WRITING

Posted on April 8, 2016 by writ7707 Posted in Art and Writing, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Writers and the Fear of Writing, Writing, Writing Emotional Moments, Writing Muse Leave a comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your MUSE

Writing Leap #65

Hi Writers,

Have you ever seen a little baby flip from deep wails of despair to a sunshine grin and happy gurgles in less than two seconds? I feel that way sometimes when I’m in the middle of a writing project. I wake up at dawn with a queasy feeling in my stomach. I turn over and moan, “I am afraid of my book.” It’s so unsettling and perfect terrain for the inner critic to dismiss everything I’ve written so far. Then, a few scribbles in my notebook on my night table, fresh thoughts, hooray! And I’m all excited again. I clutch the notebook page and dash for my computer.

I am illustrating my picture book-in-progress with an artist friend. I have an official art background. But I have been creating with words not paintbrushes for a long time. My studio is my writing studio, not my art studio. My desk, my computer and my books dominate the space. Except—-I have a long white table along one wall of my studio covered with drawing pads, pastels, drawing pencils, snippets of wallpaper, tissue and rubber cement for collage. I sneak in small art projects from time to time. But illustrating my picture book is not a small art project. It’s a big art project.

Now I’ve been waking up terrified of my illustrations as well as my writing. But just like babies I can go from “Help!” to “This is me. This is what I was born to do,” in two seconds. I don’t know what part of my heaven is better. The part with the beautiful sentences or the part with the beautiful colors.

Am I the only one who feels this way? Frightened/Elated?

Let’s treat our muse with lots of love and gratitude.

Happy Writing Everyone,

Henry Miller’s landscape

H.G. Welles’ Self-Portrait

WRITERS AND DOGS

Posted on March 2, 2016 by writ7707 Posted in Literary categories, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Writing, Writing about Dogs, Writing about Young Children, Writing Emotional Moments 1 Comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your MUSE

Writing Leap #64

Hi Writers,

People have unique relationships with their dogs. Digging deep in your stories and showing how that plays out can illuminate many layers of your character as well as the particular personality of the dog.

I will never forget the moment in the movie “Oliver” when the villain kicks his little dog hard because……who knows why? But in the story Dickens showed how desperate and disturbed the villain was just by that kick. And the reader cringes.

Here’s my dog story. The characters are real but the story is fiction.

Teddy and Murphy

Mom left me alone with my baby brother, Teddy, and now he’s lying in his crib screaming so hard his face is purple.

Annoying. Can’t I just snuggle with Murphy, my new puppy? Mom surprised me with Murphy in the hospital after my operation because I was brave.

Now Teddy’s crying in big gulps. Is he sick? Like I was in the hospital? Oh no.

I pried Murphy off my chest and lifted him into the crib. Teddy put his face next to Murphy’s and fell asleep. “Murphy will make sure you won’t go to the hospital,” I whispered.

Here’s to your wide-awake imaginations, Writers! Do you have a dog story?

LINKING THE ARTS

Teddy and Murphy

A Very Favorite Book about Dogs for children

WRITING ABOUT CHILDHOOD HURTS

Posted on February 1, 2016 by writ7707 Posted in Character Description, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Writing, Writing about Childhood Hurts, Writing about Young Children, Writing Emotional Moments, Writing Muse Leave a comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your MUSE

Writing Leap #63

Hi Writers,

When young children are diminished, passed by or pushed into the background by adults or other children the result is often a deep feeling of, “Something is wrong with me.” If your young characters experience such hurts it colors all aspects of who they are. Evoke the hurt and your young person will come alive on the page.

Hemingway said, (something like) “Find where the pain is and write about that.” He also said, “Write hard and clear about what hurts.” Here’s my story about Mae, a six-year-old who carries around isolating feelings of not measuring up.

The Plaid Dress

A lady with a soft round face and gray curls sat down near the front of the bus on a seat facing the aisle. Settling in, she smiled at a little girl in a plaid dress across from her who was sitting next to her mother. The little girl didn’t smile back. Instead she lowered her eyes. The lady with the soft round face saw right away that the little girl’s misty eyes were blinking back a veiled sadness. The lady sensed that this was not a sudden sadness, but one that lived deep inside this little girl.

“Did you have a nice time in school today, Mae? The mother leaned over and put her arm around her daughter.”

“Yes.”

“It was a very soft ‘Yes.’ Mae jiggled her foot in a nervous repetitive motion.

The lady with the soft round face and gray curls sniffed twice. It was a magical sniff. She was a magical person. She looked at Mae across from her and here’s what she saw.

It was Mae’s classroom. Her teacher, Mrs. Perkins, was saying, “Sophie, Lisa and Bethany, please come up front by my desk.” Three little girls in plaid dresses got up from their desks and stood beside Mrs.Perkins. “Now you, Peggy, and let’s see, you, Alison. Come up to the front with the others.”

The five girls giggled and whispered to each other. Mrs. Perkins arranged them side by side in a line and asked them to hold hands.

“Now there you are, all in plaid dresses,” Mrs. Perkins said. “Go next door and show your principal, Mr. Green, how pretty and adorable you all look.”

And then the round-faced lady on the bus saw something else in her vision. She saw a little boy next to Mae stand up from his chair and wave his hand madly at the teacher. “Mrs. Perkins, Mrs. Perkins. Wait. You forgot Mae! She has on a plaid dress!”

Mrs. Perkins looked at Mae and glanced away. “No, no, not today. Mae has a sweater on.”

The last thing the lady with the soft round face saw was Mae trying to force a smile. The lady closed her eyes and felt her heart break. The bus pulled over to a stop. Mae and her mother and the lady all got off. The lady leaned down to Mae and said, “May I say that you look so very pretty in that plaid dress! I have a granddaughter about your age and I think I’ll get her a plaid dress for her birthday.” The lady started to walk away, then turned. “She looks a lot like you. Big beautiful eyes and bangs. She lives far away.”

A tiny smile crept onto Mae’s face. It almost stretched into a big smile. “Thank you,” Mae said to the lady with the soft round face. “Say Hi to your granddaughter from me, Mae.”

To write about a child’s deep sadness, from the child’s perspective, can be challenging. What do you all think, writers?

May your writing run deep in any form you choose: realism, humor, fantasy and poetry.

Mae’s plaid dress

Sophie’s plaid dress

Lisa’s plaid dress

Bethany’s plaid dress

Peggy’s plaid dress

Alison’s plaid dress

WRITING EMOTIONAL MOMENTS

Posted on January 9, 2016 by writ7707 Posted in Art and Writing, Character Description, The Writing Life, The Writing Muse, Writing Emotional Moments 1 Comment

Writing Practice and Meeting up with your MUSE

Writing Leap #62

Hi Writers,

Did you ever re-read your writing and cry because you were moved? Are you ever caught in a moment when a line of a play, the resonance of a melody coming through a bell-like voice or the reach of a new skyscraper makes you suck in your breath and blink back tears?

I’ve become increasingly emotional when I encounter something beautiful, something conceived by a person. I feel the deep creative energy, the inspiration and long hours poured into the work.

I got teary-eyed when the curtain went up on the new Broadway production of “An American in Paris.” Dazzling colors and atmospheric lighting and genius design sprung up in one moment.

I saw this photograph online and my eyes misted over.

What if we took some of our own emotional moments and put them into our characters? Altered to suit our character’s personality? It could be a good way to add another layer to his or her persona. Especially if it’s a surprise.

My character, Samuel H. Mellow, has kept his emotional responses pretty muted. Not by design. He just seemed to be programmed that way. His wife, Sunny, didn’t seem to mind. He was very easy to live with, she said.

Samuel H. Mellow sat down on a bench in the Metropolitan Museum of Art and sighed. His wife had dragged him here and he’d had enough of walking around rooms filled with paintings that all looked alike. His bench was facing Rembrandt’s, “Aristotle Contemplating the Bust of Homer.”

“That man looks like my Grandpa. Kind,” said a small boy sitting next to him. Samuel looked up at the painting. His eyes went to the elderly man’s face and stayed there. He felt himself expand inside. “That’s strange,” he thought. And to his surprise his eyes misted over.

“What’s the matter, Mister?” the boy said. “Don’t you like him?”

“Yes, yes. Of course I like him. I love him. Thank you son, thank you,” Samuel whispered and hurried off to find his wife.

Happy Writing all you talented writers out there! Let’s savor our emotional moments.