Writing Prompt Wednesday: Wordless

Image © Lori Gravley

I Drink, Er, Write Alone

When I wrote this, I was writing alone from the beautiful Polano Serena in Maputo, Mozambique, but I've written alone

all over the world, from Yellow Springs to Pretoria to Bangkok to Cedarville. Image © Lori Gravley

Tonight, I have George Thorogood in my head, if a little altered,  “I write alone, with nobody else.” 

In the song, there’s the image of a tough Thorogood sitting at a bar, nursing a beer or a whiskey or both.  For me, when I travel, it’s me in the evenings with a computer, my iPad, and a sparkling water.  At home, it’s likely to be me in the late morning or early afternoon with a tea instead of sparkling water. 

Somehow, being around people makes me feel both connected (though I’m not) and alone (though I’m not).  It’s an interesting way to feel more human, half a world away from hearth and home or just down the street.  The waiters smile at me, but they don’t bother me unless I catch their attention.  I settle into the work while people speaking many other languages go on about their business (or pleasure) around me. 

I love working this way. Not all night, but for part of the night, I’m a part of something, the swirling energy of a hotel or coffee shop. I’m also separate.  I don’t know anyone.  I don’t have to talk to anyone.  Other people feed me and bring me drinks.  And I can focus on the work.

I write alone, but sometimes, I do it in a crowd.

Writing Prompt Wednesday: Spill It

 My Magnetic Poetry Kit spilled.  Use at least seven of these words in a poem or story.

Writing Prompt Wednesday: Spin

Tiblisi, Georgia © Lori Gravley

Did you know that if your brain has to react a certain way when you spin.  If you don't get dizzy, you should go see an occupational therapist who will have an entire protocol to use with you to reset your brain so that you do?

Anyway, I came across this little girl, all dressed up, spinning joyfully for her mother's camera in Tbilisi, Georgia.  

So, write about this girl, about her mother, about spinning.  Remember those tires you could spin and spin on or swings, how you could spin until the chains tangled right in front of you and how it felt to let go, or that ride at the carnival where you spun around and stayed in place even as you went horizontal becuase of the force of the spin?

Oh, if you must, you could write about politics and this weeks latest spin, but that probably wouldn't be nearly as much fun as hanging out on a swing. 

That Space Between Waking and Sleep

Image © Lori Gravley

I’m not always good at waking myself in that threshold consciousness, between sleeping and waking, that's supposed to be so good for tapping the unconscious.  But I do notice that space in the middle of the night when I wake up to go to the bathroom.  I’ll stumble to the loo, eyes barely open.  Then on the way back to bed, my feet will hit a rhythm and a line or two will rise in my head.

Usually, I just nod back off to sleep and forget I even had an idea, but on good nights, I’ll pull out my phone and record an audio note or even pull out the iPad and type a line or two.

I know, I'm supposed to keep a pen and pad by my bed, and I’ve done that, but the next day, I can’t read what I wrote.  At least my electronic notes are legible. 

I’ve been working on a new book of connected poems for children, this time on a subject not a person, and last night, when I woke up, two lines from two separate poems rose up.  I lay down and said them over to myself a few times.  I’ll remember them, I tried to convince myself.  But I knew that was a lie. 

So I rolled over.  I’m in a hotel, and it was too much to try and convince Siri to connect to the internet.  I just tapped the lines into a note on my phone.  Tonight, when I sat down to write, they were waiting there.

It’s so easy to beat myself up for all the things I don’t do, and such a joy to do what I know I should.  Those two lines became two separate poems tonight.  Maybe the lines won’t even make it into the final drafts, but they were little gifts waiting for me at the end of a long day, gifts I sent to myself. 

Tonight, I’ll try to have patience with myself when I wake up, whether I write the words bubbling up from sleep or not.   

Writing Prompt Wednesday: Trying to Get In

Image from the Munich Airport © Lori Gravley

Write about something outside a window that's struggling to get inside or catch hold but can't becasue of the surface of the window.

Checking In: Challenges Update

Here are my updated goals from My Write Club.  I'm hitting it on many 

of them, behind on some, and I've missed the deadline on some, but it's 

been a wonderful writing year so far. 

You may remember early in the year when I talked about how much I love a challenge.  Maybe you're wondering if I still do.  The answer is, yes!  Absolutely.

My husband is lucky.  He goes to his office and people tell him, more or less, what to do.  He gets to decide how to do it, and he can pull things onto his plate, but mostly, his job is defined for him by some larger power or by the contracts he earns for his company.

Me, I have to decide what to do based on what I'd like to accomplish, what I'm interested in, and what I think will sell.  It's difficult.  I've been tempted to go to work as someone who does work for hire, and I may do that in the children's non-fiction market, but for now, I'm trying to give myself over to work that I think will build the career I want.  So much of what I achieve depends on how other people--agents, publishers, readers--respond to my work.  But what I accomplish depends on me.

So, I'm doing pretty well with the challenges.  I've taken four trips to Africa and one to Asia this year for the work I get paid for.  I've overseen huge renovations on my house (and done some of them myself).  I've thrown a fun party to celebrate my son and his soon-to-be spouse's graduation, their move to Tucson, and their upcoming marriage.  I've gone on a two-week trip to Italy with my husband.  And still, I've done a lot of the writing work that no one (yet) pays me for and no one orders me to do.

I've written seven picture books and read nearly 600.  I've written over 140 poems. I've read 61 other books--some poetry, some craft, some historical fiction--all grist for the mill that is this writer's brain.  I've posted on my blog nearly every week and started some regular features here (check out Writing Prompt Wednesdays which are allowing me to use to the photographs I've taken all over the world to inspire you).  I've sent out poems to journals.  I've sent out books to agents.  I've met with writers and attended a major writing workshop. I am, as I have for the past seven-plus years, building my own career, one word at a time.

No one pats me on the back (except my close writing friends) or gives me a bonus (good thing my husband gets those), but the work is meaningful and wonderful nonetheless.

So, did I challenge myself too much? Am I spending too much time counting and touting what I've done and not enough time doing the work?  I don't think so.  I don't have a boss to tell me what to do or to pat me on the back, so I take on the role once in a while.

Hopefully, some day that will be taken care of by my agent, Publisher's Weekly, and Hornbook. Now, it's just me trying to keep myself on track. So far, so good. Except for Christine and my daily word count. I think I've worked out the issue with Christine, and since I've been focusing on poetry and picture books this year, I'm okay with a word count that's lower than my goal.

There's one goal I'm not tracking on My Write Club but that was recommended by Kim Liao over at Lit Hub.  I'm up to 54 rejections.  Maybe I can reach Liao's recommended 100 rejections this year as well.

Writing Prompt Wednesday: Reversal

Image © Lori Gravley

I know, this is a thing, but the first time I say one of these was in an airport in Thailand and it made me laugh out loud.

It's funny because of the reversals.  The deer head has a body attached that's wearing a shirt and a frock coat.  The deer head is framed, but not a two-dimensional image as we are used to seeing in frames.  The picture is absent of color (or suffused with it depending on your reading of physics).

So, play with either the idea of reversals here or with the amazing image itself.  Write a world where animals dress in frock coats or a world where photographs take on three (or more dimensions).  Have fun.