Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Writing On Writing – Entry 004

Writing Non-Fiction


As I mentioned in previous blogs, I am working on writing two books. One is a fiction of the fantasy genre. The other is non-fiction. I find writing non-fiction the easier task as I have a base to work with and I don’t have to pull plot and characters from my imagination. However, for this particular book I am, to some extent, put to the task of establishing plot and fleshing out characters.  Let me explain…

It is normal for people in their elder years to recall their history and tell stories of their life experiences dating back to the beginning of their lives, or as far back as they can remember. In fact, it is sometimes easier for elder people to remember the days of their youth than it is for them to remember their experiences of the previous week. In the case of my mother, now at the age of eighty-five, she is no different from any other in their later years. About five years ago, my mother began to tell stories of her youth. Some of the stories I heard before, but these had much more detail. Still, other stories were brand new to me. All of her stories, I noted, were not only interesting and in some ways unusual, but as well, inspiring. Finally, I asked her if she would like to record her memories so that I could transcribe them to writing. She thought that this was a great idea, so I gave her a bunch of 90-minute blank tapes. So far, I have seven tapes that I am still in the process of transcribing. My mother, obviously, loves to talk and is as always the social butterfly.
 
After transcribing a couple of the tapes, my thoughts turned to writing a book in  the biographical memoir genre. However the more I transcribed the more I thought that composing a linear biography could prove difficult. For one thing, the recorded stories are not in any order, for another, some stories are repeated or come in fragments that are fill-ins of a previous story told several tapes ahead or behind. I wasn't sure how to put it all together, and so I put the project aside, however it stayed on my mind. Then, a couple of months ago, I came up with the idea that I could write the stories as a series of chronological vignettes consisting of  three to four parts. I also came up with a working title for the book, "Visions of My Life... Stories from My Mother's Memories."
 
As some of the readers of my blog know, my mom lost her vision in an accident at age six. She does remember, however, having vision, and she has memories of experiences of that time. The first part of the book I plan to dedicate to these stories. The second part I plan to include stories during the time between ages six and eight before she went away to the Batavia State School for the Bind. It is interesting to note here that my mother was born in a small French speaking community in the Adirondack Mountains near the Canadian border, and so her relocation to a city where English is the predominant language added to her culture shock, and adds to make her story more interesting.  The third part of the book will contain stories of my mother’s years at school as well as her learning experiences. The final section of the book will contain stories from my mother's adult life as a wife, mother and community volunteer.
 
This is a huge project to undertake, but I am excited to work toward its completion. My hope is to have it ready for publication within a year’s time, though it may take longer. I try not to constrain myself to time within the confines my personal projects. That way I have leeway when I have deadlines to meet when editing or proofreading the work of others. However, that is a whole other blog to write.
Thanks so much for reading. ~Yvonne~
 

Monday, August 27, 2012

Creative Community

"Although I am a loner in daily life, my consciousness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has preserved me from feeling isolated."  
 ~Albert Einstein~ "My Credo" speech Autumn 1932
 
I came across this quote last week and I was struck by the relevance of its message as it relates to my own life, as a creative and as a loner. I wondered, how much more less isolated Mr. Einstein would have felt if he had access to the internet during his lifetime. I wondered, too, if he'd had the advantage of conversing with like minds, how much more could he have discovered. I also thought of Vincent Van Gogh. Would Van Gogh have died a poor unrecognized artist if he had had a community of like minds with whom he could share his work and converse? Might he not have taken his own life, and instead, continued to create more beauty in the world through his paintings?
 
As a creative person, who did not her entire life, have the advantage of the internet, I feel blessed to now have the ability to share my poetry, thoughts, ideas, and experiences with the world. I, too am a loner and remember a feeling of isolation as a writer without a community. I did not always have the advantage of having access to a community with whom I could not only share my work, but also receive understanding that my writing was not merely a hobby, but a need for self-expression. As well, within this community, I find an audience that encourages me to continue moving forward with my creativity. 
 
So, for those of you my fellow creatives, whether writers, artists, musicians, photographers, or whatever your calling, take advantage of what our world now has to offer. Share your work with one another, and with the world. Most of all support and encourage one another to continue moving forward. 
 
Thank you for reading. ~Yvonne~ 



Saturday, August 25, 2012

Writing Every Day


Writing every day…

            Brings space for the thoughts to flow

            Brings the surreal to reality

            Brings new life to old dreams

            Brings excitement to the mundane

            Brings clarity to the unclear

            Brings the imaginary to life

            Brings understanding to the vague

            Brings melody to the silent

            Brings bright color to the dull vision

            Brings acceptance of our differences

Writing every day…

            Banishes the shadows within the mind to envision the light of the Soul

Friday, August 24, 2012

Mommy’s Hands


As children, we learn everything from our parents or prime caregivers.  As a blind mother of a sighted child, my mom had to teach me to do things as a sighted person, and not as she did as a blind person.  It took me some time to comprehend what my mom was telling me and to understand what she was trying to teach me. This poem contains my first memories of my mom trying to explain to me that she could not see and that I could see.  After quite a bit of observing, and noting differences between my mom and other people in my small world, I finally figured it out.

I wrote this poem several years ago and had it transcribed to Braille for my mom for her 80th birthday.

Mommy’s Hands

One time, when I was not yet four,
A spool of thread slipped to the floor.
"Can you help me," my mommy asked.
And I came right over for the task.
I moved my hands feeling all around,
And my hands they made a rustling sound.
Mommy moved her hands the same,
And I enjoyed this little game.
Until Mommy pulled me from my knees,
And gave my hands a tiny squeeze.

"No, no," she told me patiently,
"it's ME who finds things differently.
you can use your eyes to see."

"Mommy sees things with her hands."
She asks me if I understand.
Though I agree, and say, "I do"
My answer is not really true.
Her words run circles in my head,
Becoming dizzy rhymes instead
Not bringing any clear meaning;
"You must depend on what you're 'seeing'."

I watch her as she cooks and cleans,
And I see she does things differently
Than other mommies, or even me.

She reads to me before my nap,
From a book so big it hides her lap.
As her hands move swiftly across the page
She tells me of a wise old sage.

I move my fingers across my book,
But find I need my eyes to look.

With my hands, I cannot read.
Reading we do differently,
For words, I need my eyes to see.

One morning at breakfast, I putter and play
With cereal that tends to remind me of hay.
And I listen to Mommy talk on the phone
To her friend Sally, or maybe it's Joan.
"What happened in the end of that TV show?
There wasn't much talking, I didn't know
how it ended," Mommy explains.
"When there's only music and no talking remains,
the actions on screen are a mystery to me.
And I need you to tell me as one who can see."

Her hands can't help her to see the TV.
This she must do very differently.
She has to ask her friends who can SEE.

The idea pops in my head so bright
It sends a shower of falling light.
Then as quietly and quickly as I am able,
I push myself away from the table.
Though sneaking on Mommy I know is bad,
To the living room in bare feet I pad.
In front of the TV I kneel down
And turn the knobs until there is only sound.
Across the room, I sit in a chair,
And listen to voices and noises on air
That match the sights that make up a scene,
I try to imagine the view on the screen.
Now the reason is clear and I understand
Why Mommy tells me she 'sees with her hands'.

The words she has said all make sense to me,
And the reasons she does some things differently.
She sees through touch, what her eyes cannot see.


 

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Seven Random Things



So, my wonderful new fellow blogger friend, Bridget, tagged me with the Beautiful Blogger and Reader Appreciation Awwards. Thank you, Bridget! I wasn't under any obligation to continue by writing this particular blog post, but it looked like fun.
 
Anyway, to continue, according to the rules of the Awards, I now have to write a list of seven random things about me. (As a side note, this took some time to finish as too many random things kept on popping into my head).
Seven Random Things
1.      I don’t like Jell-O. I never did, even as a kid. I think it has something to do with the consistency. Or maybe not because even if it’s made with fruit, I don’t like it.
 
2.      I live on coffee, but I don’t like any fancy coffees. I drink it from the moment I get up in the morning until I fall asleep at night. This is not something new. I have consumed coffee to this extent since my parents allowed me to start drinking it at around age fourteen.
 
3.      One of my favorite hobbies is building LEGOs. I have a closet full of them and I like to build them in sets to tell a story. I haven’t had the money to buy any new collections lately, but I have many sets that go back to the early ‘60s.
 
4.      My favorite television series of all time is “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”  It changed my life, brought me back, and woke me up to the realization that I was living my life to please others and in so doing, I had created a façade to hide my true self and my real goals.  I re-watch the entire series every couple of years and each time I do, it reinforces that connection to my inner self and my certainty that I am on the right path.
 
5.      I am a hermit by nature. It’s not that I am exactly unsociable but I do thrive on solitude. In fact, I would prefer to live in a cabin set deep in the mountains, surrounded by nature with the nearest neighbor at least an hour away. However, I do have certain requirements related to communication. Foremost of these is that I have a computer with internet access as most of my communication with others takes place online.  I rarely phone anyone, and when I do, I only phone the two people in the world who I consider my best friends. If someone calls me, I answer the phone unless I am writing or in the middle of an art project, but if I am busy at the time of the call I will always return the phone call later.  If someone wants to visit me, it is best that the person contact me before arriving on my doorstep, as I am apt not to answer the door. However, if someone should call and would like to visit they are always welcome.
 
6.      I have dyed my hair since I was a teenager. In my younger years, I experimented with an assortment of colors. Presently, I use a color close to what I believe is my natural color. I say, “I believe” because I haven’t let my natural color out in so many years that I have no idea what color it actually is.
 
7.      I don’t watch sports events on television. I prefer to watch as a live audience spectator. If I watch something on a screen from my living room, I feel like I am missing something. It is the same for listening to live music concerts on CD. The only sport I would consider watching on television is Quidditch, but alas, I didn’t receive my Hogwart’s letter and muggles are not allowed… 
 
Well that's it for me. I am now supposed to tag seven more bloggers with the Beautiful Blogger and Reader appreciation Awards. If I tag your blog, please don't feel that you are any obligation to post. However, the following blogs are some of those that I read on a regular basis ( there are more, but I am limited to seven) and find interesting. I would appreciate that any readers of this blog check out the blogs listed below.
 
 
Thank you for visiting. ~ Yvonne ~
 
 
 
 

Solitary Reasoning


In the course of life we wander among others,
Through mists of memory we grapple with ghosts
That haunt the edges of demands for decisions
To embody other’s goals that crush our own hopes.

While we leap through hoops of unstable circles
And clutch for strings of uncertain dreams
That fabricates nothing but pathetic ruses
As promises made, converge into schemes.

Yet left to ourselves to sort through our thoughts
We clear our minds to contemplate our own lives
To find we’re much more than a chance cast of lots
And we finally discover that our own Spirit thrives.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Love Unrequited


Spinning,
Turning,
Twisting,
Weaving...
Like a spider’s web it spreads.

Drowning,
Choking,
Barely seeing...
There’s no room left in my head.

I don’t know why so many crave
This turmoil that I feel inside.
I am trying to be brave
But I’d feel safer just to hide.

Wanting,
Needing,
Craving,
Feeling...
You surround me then you’re gone.

Hoping,
Praying,
Always knowing...
I can never be the one.

And I knew you never loved me
Yet you needed to be near.
The pain I feel is but my fee
For saying words you had to hear.

Breaking,
Splitting,
Crushing,
Beating...
My heart goes on inside my chest.

Trying,
Changing,
Never lying...
All for you I did my best.

Love unrequited, months to years
Starves the life, then chokes the soul
Instead of clinging to all my fears
Leaving should have been my goal.