writing through the pandemic, and other calamities

Songwriting, I have been doing a bit of that. I, along with most of humanity one could correctly assume, feel tossed and battered in a hurricane of emotional turmoil at this time. I don’t know about you but some days I feel on the cusp of tears. With not only the pandemic, but now the violence and hate that is dominating over people’s efforts to do the right things. Specifically south of the border. So, I try to distill all that into brief lyrics.

RIP, George Floyd, if peace can even be found anymore, and the too many others who innocently fell under a needlessly aggressive, violent end.

 

Oh Mama

 

Oh mama, you picked a good time to go

You packed your things and floated out the door

We never saw this coming, what laid us down so low

Did I hear you say it’s the wicked seeds we sow

 

Oh mama seems the sky’s cracked open

Hearts are torn, there’s only darkness showing

The -light- has- left- our- eyes

Seems too late for redemption

But shouldn’t we try?

 

Can it ever be sweet again

Looking down from those high places

You’ve nothing left to defend

But I’ll take any love you send, down on me

 

Oh mama you don’t worry anymore

It’s not like this hasn’t happened before

Take the blows, bite back the pain

Mend the wounds, wipe the stain, do it all over again

 

Oh mama will you hold a place for me

When it comes the time my soul’s set free

By then I think I’ll have had enough

Of this crazy world that’s left me worn and scuffed

 

Will it ever be sweet again

Looking down from those high places

You’ve  nothing left to defend

But I’ll take any love you send, down on me

And it will be sweet again

When we’re looking down from those high places

We’ve nothing left to defend

There’s only love, there’s only to send

 

 

 

 

Spring Push

March is here and I’m happy about it! Time to start thinking about the veggie garden and other gardening activities, time for being out doors more than indoors, and soon time for swimming in the river and ocean.

Half of the month of February was taken up by a minor injury that required five stitches and two weeks to heal. I was pushing down on a large bag of my recycling bag to make room for yet a little more, and a can sliced into the fleshy part at the base of my right hand thumb. A nice fillet of palm.

I buy hardly any canned products, but that little can of evaporated milk got me. I clean all my recycling, because I’m an obedient citizen (insert sarcasm ), but it was still a can, and a deep slice. Off to the walk-in clinic and stitches, and a tetanus shot for good measure.

A note about the young resident doctor at the clinic. I chatted with him about where and how long he has trained, etc. He says UBC and  eight years, then the residency. He put his rubber gloves on, got the tray of sewing gear ready, then he reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone- had a look, swiped it to read something, then slipped it back in his pocket. I said, “Would you mind changing your gloves.” (it wasn’t a question) which he promptly did; I think he realized his slip. I thought, Didn’t they teach you hygiene in med school? Cell phones are petri dishes!

The cut kept my right hand in limited use. I managed to get some more pottery under-glazed, but throwing on the wheel was out of the question, or hand building.

I got some writing done too, class work, but also concentrated on a non-fiction short story to submit for the CBC competition that ended yesterday, the 29th. I had changed my submission story three times. I started with a story from my childhood and a grade five bully. Wrote 2000 words on it, then thought who wants to read about an old woman’s little bullying  episode from 1967?

So I started another story based on the life of a good friend of mine, someone I am close to and love like a brother, and who has overcome real hardship. 2000 words. Then thought- is this my story to tell? Then I started the third -and last story, because I was running out to time! I chose an event from a 1997 sailing trip I went on. Some interesting things had happened on that voyage, so with one week left till deadline I wrote another 2000 word story and got it in last night.

Writing non-fiction is harder than writing fiction. More fun to create a world. Writing fiction is far more entertaining than trying to unearth anything interesting from my own mundane middle-aged life to write about!

I’ve submitted to this competition three other times in the past. Spoiler alert- I didn’t win, or get short listed. Never expected to, and still don’t. Right now I’m just working at getting comfortable with submitting! Of course my writing is garbage, that’s ok. Maybe it’ll improve, it’s why I’m taking a writing class. Each time I polish something for submission it’s good practice, working with a deadline, all that.  I know I get better by increments. And that’s quite enough for the time being.

Happy March !

Imma Wrimo

I have been immersed this past month having jumped in, although nine days late, into the NaNoWriMo challenge. I had a particular story I had begun, oh, 1993 or so and felt taking the challenge would give a push to if not finish a first draft, at least be further ahead. The story had stayed with me all this time and I had over the years returned to it periodically adding on to it, then just ran out of motivation combined with just the ongoing daily life that needs to be tended to.

I will not finish with a 50,000 word count, and I’m ok with that, obviously because I’m blogging right now instead of upstairs at my desk getting in my 1500 words for the day. More accurately I need to get 30,000 words in two days to finish. Or maybe I’m blogging right now because I’m stalling.

Writing is a solitary occupation, and it is a juggle to be available to ones family, not neglecting friends, cooking meals, cleaning house, buying groceries; all the bits that living entails. The pleasant distractions that keep me from eschewing it all and closing myself away into my story world. It’s a work in progress.

The challenge has given me the incentive I needed though to continue on with daily writing until I reach my 50,000 WC none-the-less. I want this first draft completed! I was able to break through some fuzzy areas of the story and clarify many of the scenes. And doing this thing in a virtual group setting, knowing there are other writers out there grinding it out at the same time, supporting and cheering each other on to finish over the group FB page and sharing in their victories has been enriching.

All in all it has been a great experience. Can’t wait till next November.