Why Do We Write?

Here is an example of POV switching.

I lead a group of writers where I live—inspiring them to write means that I must also be encouraged to write.

Here, let me inspire you.  This piece is off the cuff.

The waves crashed around her while walking the smooth sand.  Water had made the beach appear like silk with a sheen capturing the streaks of orange and shades of red from the morning sun.  Seabirds called to her as she made her way to her special place.

There among the rocks left by time and tide was her place.  A thrown of sorts created by Poseidon for his daughter.  That was her idea of it.  The wind blew through her sheer cover as it had done so many times before. 

She scanned the horizon to find nobody.  This time of year, the tourists had all gone home. 

The usual echoes of children’s screams and mothers telling them “stay close to the shore” were not there.  Other than the birds and the waves, ambient sounds were devoid of humankind.  It was sad in a way as she enjoyed the laughter of children making sandcastles.  Where were they today, she wondered.

The invaders with funny accents, and strange smelling lotions, were missing.  Most probably, many of them would be in a tiny desk, with the scent of chalk and crayons and the echoes of Miss Manners teaching them how to read and write.

Poseidon or one of his minions had erased all evidence of their invasion.  Locals had scoured the beaches, removing plastics and broken beach things, leaving it as pristine as Athena would want it.  

More birds cried out as if to welcome her. The scent of saltwater mixed with the occasional aroma of a bakery on 24th street. A mere half-mile from her thrown was where she would re-join the humans selling fresh muffins, teas, and coffees.

Jessica did not mind the locals.  Many of them, she looked forward to seeing.  There was Old Man Tanner, who always smiled while ordering his slice of banana bread and black coffee.  She would glance out the window at him, sitting under the umbrella reading an old tomb. The breezes tamed by the seawall would lift crumbs off his plate, feeding the small birds at his feet.

Then there was Priscilla.  She was a few years younger than Tanner but a widow, much like him.  Smiling at Jessica, she knew that her motive was transparent to everyone except Tanner, as she collected her slice of iced lemon loaf and her latte.  As she passed Tanner, her small dog stopped at his feet, sniffing of them, catching his attention. 

Tugging at her leash, Gypsy was going nowhere until Tanner scratched at the soft fur between her ears.

Tipping his hat to Priscilla, she smiled as the events played out much as they had for the last few weeks.

“Have you heard from Joe?” Old lady Simmons asked.

Breaking her attention from replacing a tray of muffins, Jessica looked into her piercing stare. 

The morning at the beach had been to clear my head from the letter I received yesterday. 

I could answer her in the affirmative, as Joe might say.  In truth, they had redacted much of the letter with large ugly black streaks, I was not sure if I had heard from him or his sergeant.

“Yes, well, I think so.”

The look on her face most probably mirrored my own.  The half-smile told me she remembered when her husband was in Vietnam. “They still use black marker?”

I shook my head.  “You would think with technology; we could find a way.” My voice trailed off.  She knew her words brought my fears up to the surface once again.

Martha Simmons had been a resident on the island for eons.  Her husband passed of cancer, and she swears to be damned; it was from what they used to defoliate the trees.  I would not argue with her as it was pointless.

“I am having a small party this Saturday.  Come by.  I know you would be the youngest, but I would love to have you.”

She was dear.  Martha wanted to take over for my mother after she passed. 

One of the arguments I would have tried to make to her regarding her husband is this. Tom and my mother both died of the same type of cancer.  I feared that the power plant across the bay might be at fault, but I had no way to prove or disprove it.

Joe might know how to make sense of it, but he was off in a desert a half world away looking for ghouls who sew the seeds of hate in their every action.  I just wanted him home.

******************

Yes, I just created this in the last twenty minutes, give or take.  I wanted to play around with switching from the third person to first.  How did I do?

POV is a very tricky part of the writing process.  While writing provides us with an escape from life, we can also use a short prompt to improve our craft.

Speaking of writing, I think I just wore out my Logitech Keyboard.

I love this particular keyboard, as it is ergonomically well designed.  Every time I hit the “quote,” the mark does not appear until I hit another key.

I changed out the batteries and it still does it.

This is the first keyboard I had to purchase stick-on letters as I have worn the paint off the CVJKLOP keys.  LOL

The model is the K 350…

Do you have a favorite?  What is it, and why?

Ok, well, happy Saturday to you.  If you like what I wrote, spend a minute telling me why. What worked and what did not.  Would you like more of it?

Much Love -TW

Should you be writing your book instead of a blog?

If I ask you to go build an airport, where would you start?

 

• What is your passion?
• When you write, what is it that stirs up your juices?
• Is what you have to say worthy to be read?
• Is your diatribe worth my time?
• If you are writing a novel, why?

I launched a young lady on a path towards a career in writing this weekend. She has a job that is far from disinteresting, and in fact, she has a story to tell. She was trying to figure out the details.
When a child is confronted with cleaning up his room, he or she generally looks at the job as insurmountable especially if “everything” is out of place. Writing as in life if we were correctly raised we learned to break the impossible task into small bites. Much like project management.

If I ask you to go build an airport, where would you start?

In writing, we can analyze ourselves into paralysis. One “author,” wrote that she writes one sentence properly and will not go to the next until it is perfect. “Paralysis.”

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” Go….

Obviously, I am not going to steal that. I wrote it to make a point.
When I start a novel, I have an idea I want to pursue. Whether it is time travel or discovering a derelict spacecraft hidden away for eons, I start with just a thought.
I keep the first page which I label a manifest in which I put notes of who is who and where and so forth as the story progresses.

Some people storyboard their books which is ok if that is how you write. My point to her and to you is that there is no right or wrong way as long as the final “deliverable” is a book worth reading.
People had been giving this girl so much advice. So much so that not one word is on paper or virtual paper.
“The cold air cut through her clothes like a knife as she left the terminal headed to the shuttle. Caroline had no idea that the winters in St Paul could be so bitterly cold! “
• Who is Caroline?
• What is she doing in Minnesota in the winter time?
• Why does she not expect the weather to be so extreme?
• Where did she fly in from?
• Why is she there?
• What does she look like?
• What exactly is she wearing?

In less than three minutes I have created the opening line to a book, and I have also asked some pretty fundamental questions. We must address these and others in some future paragraphs or pages or chapters.

Take any project in bite-size pieces, stop and ask some pretty essential questions and consider your audience. Who are they?

Don’t worry about punctuation or spelling or participles when you are creative. You can always edit it later when you have the characters all playing together.

Hope that this answers some questions and helps those that want to write and not know how to get started.

One word after another is a good start.

Blogs are a great place to explore ideas and get to know others. If they follow you something about you interests them. Blogs are an excellent way to seek advice from those that follow you but, be careful about that.

Blogs are an excellent way to market your work and to practice your craft.

Don’t let blogging or marketing get in the way of your novel. The creative process is not one that can be regulated as many writers try to do.

Much Love…-TW