Spaces to Create

September 17, 2016September 17, 2016 / Lisa / 2 Comments

What do you need around you to create? My husband is building a space for wood working (which involves the purchase of expensive toys…I mean tools). A writing group recently talked about their favorite tools – pens, pencils, paper, etc. It seems we all need the right place, no matter what we create.

Like most people, I can write anywhere, but there is one spot that is my favorite. So here’s the story of my space. First the photo:

I like a corner. The feeling of being enclosed in the story world (I also love MRI machines for the same reason).

I like history, a connection to family and past, which is always a theme in my writing. Here you’ll see Gawain and his horse, a print from the 1920s that I used to sit in front of as a child and make up adventures. There’s a clipper ship, a print from the 1940s that I used to daydream in front of when very little. I must have been an odd little kid, now that I think about it; sitting on the floor in my grandmother’s house, or the home of the elderly couple that gave me the knight print, doing nothing but staring at the wall. The desk itself is an antique.

There’s a small print, also from my grandmother, that is Lake Chelan, before the dam was built, when it was still wild and free.

There’s more history. Dog tags from my father, my husband, and a cast iron beaver on a ribbon from my husband’s grandfather. A Victorian pin cushion from my grandmother. A wrought-iron candle holder found in an abandoned homestead in Montana. A lamp from my mother. A crocheted doily from my grandmother. And a modern-day flashlight for when the power goes out.

I also need mountains around me. What you can’t see in the photo are the real mountains outside.

From our back door

Then I need the mountains closer. So, back on the desk are photos from friends who also love the mountains. Fireweed growing in a high meadow. The moon coming up behind peaks. A photo of my husband and his dog on a high ledge of granite.

The green journal is my book of growing things. Or, honestly, my failures at gardening. It’s all scribbled in here so maybe next year will be better. Oh, and there’s a Waterman pen from my husband, chubby notepads which I love to scribble things in, and a black notebook that has the business end of writing inside.

And finally, a card given to me when my dad died, to remind me to pay attention to life. The card reads, ‘Is it so small a thing to have enjoyed the sun, lived light in the spring, to have loved, to have thought, to have done?’

It’s not so much that these things inspire me to write. After all, they’re just things, and I can write anywhere. No, what this space does is bring me home. Tie me to past, present, and future. Ground me into daydreams, if that makes sense.

I’d love to hear from you what your space is like. Whether it’s a space to create, or simply a space that feels safe, feels like home, or relaxes you after a long day.

And speaking of those long days, let’s not forget one of the more important things on that desk. The coaster for the big mug of hot tea.

The Screaming Woman

September 7, 2016September 7, 2016 / Lisa / 7 Comments

Have you ever been in the forest, in the mountains, alone, at night? No street light a block down giving a muted halo. No LED lights from sound systems scattered like stars around the room. No reflected red light from an alarm clock. No cell phone with a handy bright screen or flashlight feature. No porch light or welcoming glow from a lamp.

It’s not just dark, it’s Stygian.

On the night I’m going to tell you about, there was no moon. The mountains, the ridge line, and the trees blocked out all but a tiny square of sky.

I wasn’t a city girl back then, having grown up in a farming town. But at the same time I definitely wasn’t a mountain girl either. And yet circumstances placed me in the Pacific Northwest mountains. Alone. Well, except for a dog who was equally out of her element.

In the middle of that very dark night, I woke to a woman screaming. What else can you do when someone is in desperate need of help, but grab a flashlight and go? I took the dog with me, who shook as bad as I did. I reminded her that she was half German Shepherd, but she didn’t believe me.

My imagination was vividly awake. A car accident on the road? Was some woman out there in the woods, lost and afraid?

I followed the wavering flashlight beam down the long, narrow driveway with nothing but trees crowding in. Trees that anything could hide behind. I listened so hard that my breath was held captive. I searched until the cold night leached under my skin and numbed my nerves.

I don’t remember how long I stumbled around before giving up and returning to the pile of blankets still retaining a warm pocket. The screaming had ended. I went to bed fully expecting to find a body in the morning.

By the way, this was before cell phones and where I was, there was also no electricity, let alone land lines. And in all honesty it never crossed my mind to drive out to the road and find a pay phone.

What I do remember is this.

The next morning was bright and sunny and clear and crisp. Early summer in the mountains. I drove to the nearby tiny town to open a post office box in the back corner of the general store. Outside the store three elderly men lined up on a wooden bench, watching life. I could hear one as I got out of the car.

‘Did you hear the cougar last night?’

Me, tentatively: ‘What’s a cougar sound like?’

‘Just like a woman screaming.’

I’ll end with this thought. I walked around in that dark night with a flashlight trying to save a cougar.

Blog Life

August 29, 2016August 29, 2016 / Lisa / 5 Comments

This is how it goes.

It’s been two weeks! I need to post something!

What can I write about? What haven’t I already written about? What can I say that hasn’t been said, and said better? What’s going on in my life right now that might be interesting? (not much, by the way)

I need photos. People don’t read long narratives anymore. They skim and look for photos. I don’t have much variety. I need new pictures. But my camera was dropped (by me), and broken in many pieces. I have to get a new camera and then wander around and take a bunch of pictures.

Wandering on vacation. Doesn’t this terrain beg for a murder mystery?

There’s still no idea simmering up from the layers of pressure and panic. I need to see what others are writing about so I need to go read blog posts first. That results in the inner critic rearing up to say ‘you’ll never write a blog post as good!’. I go hide in shame for a few days.

Searching for the elusive writer

Maybe if I skim Facebook real quick I might find some inspiration. Skimming Facebook! Like that ever happens. Facebook is a void that sucks you in until writing time disappears.

Maybe if I go read a new book first I might find inspiration. Or at least an excuse to write a review. But I’ve read all my books, many, many times. Okay, so I’ll add a trip to the library after the camera store. Then after taking pictures I’ll need to read the book. Or, what is more likely after a trip to the library, multiple books.

And so the days pass with the need to post something resting like a leech on my brain, sucking any creative juices dry.

Doesn’t get much drier than this. Even the house is dehydrated.

Blogs, and social media in general, are wonderful tools for authors. But they are there to share, to visit, to chat – at least in my opinion – and when used simply as a medium to sell books, they fail. And when they become something that feels more like a chore, or something that takes time away from actual writing, they also fail.

Luckily this never feels like a chore, as much as I joke around about it. And now I’ve completed a blog post and get a reprieve for a few days. I could write, but I still have that stack of books waiting to be read. And that new camera.