Watermarks

So, I plotted out this story last night at dinner on the back of a business card (was the only paper I had LOL).  Today, I wrote out various character  ideas, on who should tell this story.  While waiting for the shuttle home, I wrote a couple of pages on the new story.  So it’s moving along at about 500 words into the story.  God, it feels good.  I feel an odd sense of command that I’m really liking.  It’s a feeling I haven’t had in such a long time.  That and simply enjoying the act of telling a story.

Tomorrow is my last day of vacation.  I intend to get most of the story written by tomorrow evening as well as get a partial of one of my novels out.  It’s amazing to me that 2-3 people at the workshop STILL remembered this book after 2 years.  That’s good enough reason to me to finally submit this book.   So hopefully I’ll get those 2 things done tomorrow.

On an unrelated but equally creative note, I bought some amazing beads at this great little bead shop in Cannon Beach.  With the little agates and sea glass I picked up, I want to make some new pieces.  Will get to that soon, for now, gotta finish this way cool story I’m working on.  I decided to pick something random on which I’d base this week’s story.  First thing that caught my eye in Cannon Beach were the daffodils.  I intend to just pick random things like this and write cool stories about them.  After a year of writing short fiction at this point in my craft, I should be doing some pretty kick ass work.  Look out world…I got stories to tell.  Feeling excited again!  — Lisa

Current theme song is:  Gives You Hell by The All-American Rejects

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I’m sitting here in my hotel room at the Portland Airport plotting out a short story.  Working title is Daffodils.

I just attended a short story workshop on the Oregon Coast and feel more like myself than I have in a long, long while.  It’s a very long story, but I’m back here taking a workshop, I’m back here writing because of my dad who passed away in January.  He suffered greatly in his last few years and I watched him become entombed in his own body, unable to communicate.  But we managed to find ways to communicate and I now know what a precious gift it is to be able to talk and write.  While I will never understand how he felt in that last year, I am thankful I still had some time with him.  He brought me back to my writing in a way I never expected, in a way I never imagined.  Yes, I’m writing again with a new sense of purpose and for a new reason that is really more of a feeling than anything else.  For my dad, I’ll communicate what he couldn’t.

I wrote 2 stories in 2 weeks and for the first time in 2 years, I felt like I knew the face in the mirror again.  I felt like me again.  And it didn’t hurt anymore.  It didn’t matter how good or bad at it I was…it mattered that I felt something and transferred that feeling to the page.  It felt good and familiar.

So…my plan is to write a short story a week until my head explodes   And I’m gonna mail the suckers and all will be well with my world.  It’s who I am.  It’s what I do.  And I find tremendous peace in that.

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