The Big ‘Why’?

/ Lisa / 3 Comments

Typically I have no problems coming up with story ideas. And typically the question ‘what if’ sends me gleefully off to the writing space.

With book three waiting only on cover art, two manuscripts that need heavy revising, a stand-alone story just starting the first draft process, and a current editing job, I am busy with words. Yet I need to start book four and this time I only have a glimmer of an idea, which is a first for me. Another first is that I’ve tried out some ideas, floating them to my editor and friend, author Susan Schreyer, who has very kindly given me feedback. Most aren’t going to work. I’m not surprised because even as I was telling her my ideas I felt no bubble of excitement. You know, that urge to rush gleefully to your writing space. Instead I shuffle around and look for dirty laundry, dirty dishes, or as an extreme last resort, dust bunnies.

You know how it is when you try too hard to pin an idea down, and it squirts out from under the pin and jets away? That’s how this current idea is acting. And instead of the ‘what if’ question that has always, in the past, spurred me on, I’m finding the following word taking up a lot of space in the writing brain.

Why?

I’m trying to figure out why someone would deface or vandalize a memorial to a group of miners who died in a mine fire. I’m looking for a deeply personal reason that will tie past to present, and goes beyond the simple act of protesting what either the memorial stands for or the mining business.

If I can figure out who would do that act, I’ll have my reason. But then I pause and think, well, if I have the reason then I’ll have the character. I’m currently stuck in the loop – if I find out this then I’ll have that, but I need that to find out this.

Probably what needs to happen is that I stop talking, stop worrying, work on the other writing projects, and let this idea ‘daydream’ its way through my subconscious. A walk in the woods, where I can just let thoughts go and let that inner writer wander as well, will also help.

In the meantime though, I’m wondering, why?

The following photo, from wikicommons, is of the Sunshine Memorial, near Kellogg, Idaho. The miner is surrounded by ninety-one miniature headstones, each with the name of a miner who died in the mining disaster of 1972. I was down in the Sunshine mine just a few years after this fire and have a healthy respect for anyone who can do that job.

A Sunshine miner

A Sunshine miner

Markers of Age

/ Lisa / 6 Comments

What are the little realities in life that make you suddenly pause and think ‘how can this be?’ (with a slightly panicked tone of voice)?

What little clues rear up and bite you in the rear when you’re not looking, that make you whip around in shock, thinking, rather hysterically, ‘hey now!’?

Let’s list them, shall we?

When your little sister is older than you and you don’t know how that happened.

When your baby comes home for a visit. Think about that a moment. And then, when you ask your husband if he has any cash so you can get a coffee to keep you awake for a work meeting, and your son pulls out his wallet. It’s just SO wrong when your child gives you money instead of the other way around.

And let’s not even talk about gray hair. Well, okay, let’s talk about that by gloating first and saying that both older and younger siblings as well as friends, have had gray hair a long time. At least it happened to them first. And if you’re reading this, neener, neener.

Then there’s the little things.

Realizing that you’d rather go to bed when it gets dark than stay up all night debating what’s wrong with the world and making plans to save it.

Learning, way too late in life, to say what you mean, speak up for yourself, be blunt, be honest, and no longer care what others think. If only that wisdom could have been in my brain during the tortured high school years.

Realizing that you have friends who have been best friends for longer than you ever would have dreamed when you first met them. Over forty years now that I think about it, which blows me away because in my brain we’re still in our twenties.

And speaking of that, the weird dichotomy of your brain convinced you’re considerably younger than the calendar says.

Outliving your parents and realizing you’re never too old to be an orphan, and how wrong that is.

When the doctor says specific, humiliating physicals are needed because you’re now at ‘that age’.

Or, if you have a doctor with a sense of humor, like I do, tells me that out of the Celtic female trilogy, I’ve flown past ‘maiden’ and ‘mother’, and am now a ‘crone’. I told him I prefer ‘wise woman’. He laughed.

When you read obituaries and see the deaths of those in their seventies and eighties and realize those ages are starting to appear on the horizon. Still distant, but starting to peek out at you.

Okay, I’m depressing myself. Think I’ll go borrow some money from the kid and figure out something to do that will embarrass him.

That’s the flip side. The ability to throw off society’s expectations and do whatever you want, knowing people will whisper ‘poor thing, must be getting senile’ and that they’ll be too polite to make you stop.

Hmmm. This could be fun.

Remembering War

/ Lisa / Leave a comment

The anniversary of the end of the Vietnam war today. I remember that ending. Sadly, I saw this anniversary mentioned in few places in the internet world/news. NPR had a story about visiting the memorial wall, which I have also seen. But other than that the internet seems to be full of the usual celebrity fluff, cat videos, and tag lines such as ‘When I saw this it blew my mind!’ and prompts such as ‘Hit Like if you agree!’. Oh, and please let us not forget invitations to play games.

This anniversary though, is especially poignant for me because these were young men, 18, 19 years old. The age of my son right now. I worry about his ability to grocery shop let alone heading over to be part of things no one should have to go through. And yet, have we as a people learned anything? At the end of each war we think, now we know better, now there will be no more. At least until the next one. I would like to start a debate, even at the risk of that debate becoming a shit-storm.

Please don’t interpret my comments that follow as support of Hilary Clinton, or as a slam against specific religions or even about race. I don’t mean to slide into arguments/discussions that can’t be resolved, such as religion and politics. I’m talking war here, nothing more. Although, that topic, too, will never be resolved.

It seems, throughout modern history, we have been led by men and there has been war. I have no facts to back this up as I am not a philosopher, sociology professor, anthropologist, or historian. Yet it seems to me when there have been riots as are happening frequently now, the looting and destruction are predominantly young men. I ask, what is it about men of a certain age, to seek out violence? Of all the murders committed throughout society, what is the percentage of male killers vs. female killers?

When a man sends a son off to war it appears to be a fearful moment of pride. When a woman sends a son off to war it seems to be just fear. Yes, yes, I know that’s a broad generalization. I know there are exceptions to everything we say. Yet I still can’t help but wonder what would happen if we returned to a matriarchal society, to women who were healers and mothers first. To religion that recognized the female as equally divine, such as goddess and god, not just a male God. Again, I am not slamming or supporting one religion over another, just wondering what would happen.

Honestly, I think in these days not much would change in spite of a somewhat idealized hope. After all, we have women in the military, women are strong and capable and able to fight, shoot, and defend. And as a woman I’m proud of that.

But would there be war?

I guess we won’t know until a day when our leadership is not made up of only old, rich men.

For today, I remember Vietnam, those who never returned, those who returned but never healed, and those who had to let them go. I remember all who were touched by that war, on all sides of the conflict.