Doing the Grind-The Olympics

Today I was able to attend my first Grind Writers group although the location turned out to be a different because of the Olympics. I met a number of other very creative individuals and was very inspired by each of their stories. Some people are just trying to add more writing into their lives, several are working on books and one writes for a living. It is my hope that I will be able to attend regularly.

We started with a 15 minute free-write on the prompt The Olympics and this was my offering.

For some people the Olympics must be everything. They'll go to a number of the sporting events, their hearts will swell when they hear the national anthem and someone from our country gets gold. Twenty years from now they'll say to their kids, "Remember when the Olympics were on and we did this or that.."

In contrast I find that my life is never defined by these big events and that I remember them in the context of what I'm doing or where I am. Thirteen years ago I was sitting by my daughter as she lay dying in a children's hospice and while watching TV a newscaster came on to explain that Princess Diana had died. Over the next few days people took flowers to the British Consulate & because there were so many of these expressions of grief they started taking bouquets to old folks homes and places like the hospice. I arranged vase after vase and filled every room including my daughters with them. Two weeks later when she had died I threw out all of the fading blooms in a symbolic gesture. That is what I really remember about the time when the Princess Diana tragedy unfolded.

Last week, when the world was glued to their TV's or standing in the streets of Vancouver, waving and cheering on the Olympic torch as it made the final leg of its journey I sat across from my girlfriend in a local chemo treatment room. She sat on a leather recliner with her arm outstretched on a tray while poisonous chemicals ran into her veins. I looked around the room at all of the other people there for treatment; young and old sat there, proof that cancer doesn't discriminate.

The TV was on and some people watched the event, others were too distracted by the book they had brought or were sitting with their eyes closed. Suddenly the news broke through and it was announced that a young man doing a training run for the luge had died. Everyone in the long line of chairs seemed to come out of themselves, the staff stood still and we all turned our eyes to watch in silent horror as the fellow careened down the chute and flew off his sled into a pole. Involuntary sounds of shock and dismay passed from every person watching.

The room was dead quiet and no one moved for a time but then the nurses began checking chemo bags and IV's, machines started beeping and we were all pulled back to the reality of what was happening in the room. My friend tugged on her hat, pulling it lower to hide the fact that her hair was starting to fall out again. The gentleman two seats over looked up at his chemo bag, sighed and grimaced, clenched and unclenched his hand and shut his eyes. Another young man adjusted his Ipod and turned back into his world of music and song.

It occurred to me then that every cancer patient in that room was like an Olympic athlete fighting for the gold; Remission. Others, like myself, were there to cheer them on in their struggle. Some will win and their lives will carry on and some sadly will not. And twenty years from now when I'm talking to my children about this time I know I'll have a different view than many others. "Remember when my friend was going through Chemo and the Olympics were on?"

Salynne ©2009

Info on Grind Writers: The Grind Café Writers' Group - Vancouver
Meets every 2 weeks (alternating on Saturdays and Sundays) at the Grind Gallery Café, 4124 Main Street @ King Edward Ave (25th Ave). 10 am to 12:30 pm. Writers of all ages, stages, genres, genders, orientations & outlooks are welcome. We write at every meeting, so bring pen & paper or your laptop. Occasionally we do move the venue, so please email before you come to your first meeting, or if you have any questions, email Margo - wonderwords@shaw.ca.

Revelations....

Today is a big day--I'm revealing something that I have not done so before and that is why this blog is entitled Revelations; although it is in no way related to anything biblical. My original intent was to use the term Coming out of the Closet but that has too many other connotations as well.

As you know from my blogs I have indicated some things about myself such as the fact that I work at BC Children's Hospital, I had a daughter who died twelve years ago and I am a published author. Since I became involved with the Closet Writers group at C&W and since starting this blog most everything has been done under by pen name, Salynne.

The book that the Batten Disease Association published about my daughter lists my real name as author. Up until recently I have wanted to keep these parts of my life separate and my identity to others, except friends, private. Today when I visited the Facebook Page that I set up for the book I was delighted to see that there were over 200 "friends". I invited them to read Wilde Tide Blog as a way of following what is going on in my life now and I decided that also meant that it was time to introduce you to my published book "Forever Special Friends" and its website.

Forever Special Friends



© Salynne

The Write & Wrongs of Free Writing

On Wednesday when our C&W Closet Writers Group at the hospital meets, it oftens takes around fifteen or twenty minutes for everyone to arrive. This was the case this week and so we all worked on a "Free Write" while waiting to get officially started.

For those of you who have never heard of the term "Free Write" before, it is a popular and contemporary "no rules" excercise. There is no write or wrong way to get your words on paper. You are given a word prompt and you are free to do with it as you wish. Your mind is allowed to go in whatever direction it wants, you can write prose, poetry, create a list of associated words, whatever strikes your fancy; the idea is to put down whatever pops into your head. I guess if there are any rules it is that you just keep writing and don't stop to criticize, change or agonize. You can set a time limit or write until it feels like its time to stop. For specific detailed instructions check out:
http://www.wikihow.com/Freewrite

We chose the word "Compass" because one of our members, whose keys were sitting on the table, carries a small globe compass on her keychain. My offering was short and to the point. I stopped writing not because the time was up but because it felt right to do so.

Compass
Backpacking in the woods,
The direction of my life,
Taking steps forward, taking steps back.
I watch my 17 year old daughter struggling in that place between childhood and adulthood. She doesn't know where she is going, what she wants to do after school.
As a parent I want to give her my compass, my beliefs, my set of values but in the end she will create and choose her own. I have tried my best to guide her and be there for her while she finds her way but she is on her own journey, her own path.

Other members wrote on a similar theme-the direction of life. Some did not. Some wrote prose, some wrote poetry, and some wrote word lists. Every single piece was unique and wonderful.

Between now and next week we have the assignment to write on another prompt: What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear "Shanghai"? I'm looking forward to a jaunt over to my local Starbucks for some writing time with this one and to hearing what everyone else comes up with at our next meeting. What comes to your mind?

Salynne ©2010

The Discipline of Writing

I admire anyone who has the discipline to write every day. It was my hope that through this blog I would make that commitment and follow through. As you all well know that hasn't happened. During the past month I've done a lot of re-thinking about the expectations I hold for myself and the reality of my life.

Part of my "problem" is that I have so many projects on the go that I feel pulled in all directions, this blog being one of them. Last week the leader of our writing group sent us all a blank Goals and Inventory Sheet and I filled it out almost immediately. Having had a week to think more about it I've revised it slightly. My motivational guru, Brian Tracy, says that written goals with a deadline have more likelihood of being achieved and since I am a person who responded clearly to such in the past I thought it worthwhile to post them for everyone to see. Public accountability will no doubt spur me on to achieve what I set out to.

What are your goals as a writer?

Short Term Goals (3-6 months) Deadline-April 31, 2010
1. Submit two articles for publication (paid or unpaid).
2. Write my blog consistently-whether its every day, every second day, every third day.....(decision pending).

Long Term Goals (6 months – 1 year) January 31, 2010
1. Flesh out my BCCH Mystery novel (that's right I'm writing a mystery novel).
2. Start typing the manuscript for my BCCH Mystery novel.
3. Work on and flesh out my Mom’s book (uncertain...I've determined that I've suffered several anxiety attacks while working on this and so it may have to go on the back burner for a while however I will keep it on the list).
4. Start typing out the manuscript for the huge group of commentaries that I've written called The Writing Group Chronicles (this covers my journey since joining the BC Children's Hospital Writing Group; I'm actually surprised at how much material I have-it will be interesting to check the word count once it is in manuscript form).


Writing Inventory
What kinds of writing do you do on a regular basis? (course papers, lab reports, correspondence, e-mail, research papers, fiction, poetry, plays, etc.)
Short Stories; fiction; novels; At work I write tons of emails and correspondence.

What is your favorite kind of writing? Why?
Fiction. I love that I get to step into other peoples lives for a few minutes. I get to figure out what makes others tick and learn what makes me the same or different from them.

Describe yourself as a writer using 10 adjectives.
Sporadic, enthusiastic, insecure, raw, positive, emotional, solitary, creative, willing, inspired.

What is your biggest challenge as a writer? What kinds of critiques have you received from the professors, friends, and other readers?
My biggest challenge is finishing something. Negative critiques are that I’m too wordy and tend to be superfluous. Positive critiques come from seeing people moved by what I’ve written, whether they're reading it or as I’m reading it.

What is your greatest strength as a writer? What do other people normally praise about your writing style?
That I’m honest and open about things people might not normally talk about. I mean really, who else has written a blog about the Little Known Stress of Getting a Pedicure or The Zen of Doing Laundry ?!

If you could change one thing about your writing or your writing process, what would it be?
That I could be a more consistent writer. I would write every day and accomplish something on one of my current projects every day until each one is done.

Although today is February 2 I think that on the first of each Month I'm going to schedule a blog that will detail what I have done to accomplished on my goals. If I do that at least I'll have one blog for the month done!

Salynne ©2009

Give a Hungry Man a Fish

Last week I received one of the most interesting, fascinating and touching gifts of my lifetime. It came from the leader of our Writing Group who spotted an Artists Trading Card Travel Kit (ATC kit) at Ruby Dog's Art House on Kingsway & Fraser in Vancouver.

Essentially this travel kit is a blank CD case filled with tidbits of amazing things. Through the clear plastic I could see a small compass, clothespins, teeny tiny puzzle pieces, a piece of 8mm film, a coin of foreign origin, stamps, pieces of maps, a slide for a slide projector, and even a piece of blue fringe-like string. As I turned it over and over to get a look at the pieces I thought that perhaps it was a scrap-booking kit but the note from my friend said that although this was actually an ATC travel kit she saw it as a portable writing prompt kit. She suggested keeping it in my purse for whenever I had a ten minute break and needed writing inspiration.

When I opened the case it was if the world around me slipped away and I was presented with a feast of sensual and tactile delights. It was magical. The 8mm film piece revealed scenes of natives in Africa, there was pieces of foreign paper money, the thick cardboard of a ticket stub, and the crisp tissue like paper that had the Eiffel tower on it and the words French Madeleine's.

A red folded sheet inside explained that the movement started in 1997 when Swiss artist, M. Vanci Stirnemann, created an exhibit of 1200 hand-made cards. On the last day he invited others to create their own cards and trade with him. These miniature pieces of art are traded around the world and ATC swaps are run in almost every major city around the world. The only official rule is that each ATC must be 2.5" x 3.5".

During this past week I've spent time with my kit several times; a few days ago my eye was caught by a map piece that was obviously biblical in nature and the back discussed the King of Tyre and Israelite King Ahab. This made me think that it would be fun to write something from that biblical period as it is a time frame I know something about; I just never considered such a historical setting before. Now I have the beginning of a story starting to swirl around in my mind and when it takes a more definite shape I know there will be something worth putting down on paper.

I've spent some time checking out ATC's on the Internet--its an amazing concept. Keeley and I are planning a trip to Ruby Dog's Art House soon. I've mentioned the store name to a number of friends and they have all said its is the most incredible place and well worth a visit too. I'll let you know when we visit.

The old adage “Give a hungry man a fish and you have fed him for today; teach a man to fish and you have fed him for a lifetime” came to mind as I was writing this story. The gift my friend gave me was a really quite simple but it is one that has inspired me and has endless possibilities. My friend didn't just give me a one time gift; she gave me a gift that triggered my creativity and that is going to last a lifetime.

Salynne ©2009

Winter Doldrums, Grief and Onions

It seems that this time of year and I don't mix very well. The winter doldrums have set in; the weather is blah, its seems to me to be dark twenty-four hours a day and I'm feeling down and exhausted. Over the past two months I've also had some heart palpitations which it turns out have been anxiety attacks.

Some of you may know that this fall I committed myself to editing and compiling stories from the time period that my daughter Brenna was alive, with a goal of having a finished manuscript by spring. Writing about and dealing with that time period is not helping matters and/or causing a lot of my current anxiety issues--writing this book is proving to be much harder emotional work than I thought it would be. Members of my writing group (part therapy group :) suggested that I blog about what is really going on and how I feel consumed with thinking about my daughter and why; they suggested that being open and honest about it all will in itself help me lessen this feeling that I'm blocked by sadness and going in one direction only.

They've also encouraged me to start writing about the process of putting this part of my life onto paper and that has proved to be very good advice. Since our group on Wednesday I've been penning like crazy about what has been going on while I'm writing the book and the reasons why I need to take myself on this difficult journey. It's been twelve years since I became a bereaved parent and although I thought I was doing "well" I've learned that term is very subjective. There are different layers of grief which are often compared to the layers of an onion; you peel off one but there is always another under the surface. Sometimes you get "blindsided" by grief, it pops up unexpectedly. In this case I've opened the can of worms myself and after my experiences over the past several months its very clear that when you purposely dredge up things from the past and allow yourself to feel some of those tragic feelings again it can take a heavy toll. I'm determined to press on but I have to start taking better care of myself, give myself breathing space and let others know what I'm going through.

On top of all of this hard emotional work I've been doing, last weekend I felt that I had to attend the memorial of a fifteen year old boy. His mother and I have done volunteer work together at Canuck Place Children's Hospice, and although I'd only met her son once, out of respect for her I went. When I arrived there were over a hundred people there but the first thing I did was search out the faces of the others in our Canuck Place group. They, like me were also bereaved parents and felt it important to attend. The plan was that we would sit together and support each other.

In the end I did not sit with my group preferring to stand in the back to let the large number of arriving family and friends have seats. There was also the part of me that hoped that I could escape early. The memorial itself was emotional but I was not particularly moved. What struck me the hardest and made me the most sad was watching the faces of the parents in my group. The pain on their faces was so evident and I knew this sorrow was not just for our colleague but for themselves and for every other parent who has lost a child. I could see them remembering the last moments of their child's life as our friend talked about her son and that they fully understood and remembered days of numbness afterwards which helps you to be brave and get through the memorial. Being a writer I am an observer, a watcher, almost a voyeur into other people's lives. On this occasion though, it wasn't so much that I could place myself in others shoes or read on their faces the gaping hole the death of a child leaves in their hearts; I realized that the pain on their faces and the sorrow in their hearts was only a reflection of what was in my own.

Salynne ©2009

Writing Environments

I attended my writers group at work on Wednesday and was inspired. It was one of those occasions when I wish my little digital recorder was working because I had to stop several times on the way home to write down the flurry of thoughts that were making their way into my consciousness.

Once I returned home however that inspiration fled. As I stood surveying my dusty kingdom from the front entrance my heart sank. The fine layer of drywall dust that is still settling over everything grated on not only the soles of my bare feet but on my nerves and the writing muse in my head & heart tucked herself away. Putting my shoes back on and walking into the kitchen I turned to look back at the footprints I left on the dark hardwood floor. It is unbelievable how much dust can settle in just a few hours even when you keep damp mopping and cleaning several times a day.

My feet itched to be free from their prison but I knew that taking my shoes off would only result in pure frustration and disgust. It was then that I began to realize the very strong connection between my environment and my ability to focus and write. Particularly in the last two weeks my home has been in chaos and covered in powder and I have not wanted to write or sit at the computer in my office. I've been writing with pen and ink and in various spots but not at home and not on my "no matter how many times I wipe" dusty home computer & desk.

Having a clutter-free work space and environment has become more important to me than I realized. Over the past years some of my favorite TV shows have been those on a decluttering & home organization such as Neat, Mission: Organization, & Clean Sweep. The show Hoarders is available to watch on line and there is nothing more inspirational or able to get me off my butt to clean house than the terror that one day I'll end up like one of those out of control people profiled. Now I realize that I also have to have some semblance of order and a clean house in order to sit down and have the mental space to write.
There's lots of advice out there on creating the perfect writing mecca but I haven't really paid attention to it. Jane Austen sat at a small table by a window in her room, Rudyard Kipling had a whole room of books and a writing desk. It's not that I think I need to read decorating articles or tips; the most important thing is paying attention to what makes me feel like writing which would also include the habits and rituals that we do that put us in the right mind space to be creative. What I know so far:

• Solitude; although being around activity so that I can people watch is very important therefore sitting at Starbucks is a prime spot.
• Being with the members of our writing group; although I find much more inspiration in the meeting room we've used that has windows and a tree view instead of another enclosed dead air enclave with a ceiling fan that threatens to separate from its moorings and decapitate all of us.
• Sitting at home on my couch with clean hardwood floors and a quiet relatively dust-free house.
• Sitting at the beach or the banks of the river alone.
• Driving in the car listening to Jazz or Classical music.

Most of the time it appears that being alone is the key or at least alone with my thoughts. What else inspires me needs to be part of my self exploration in the next couple of weeks & months.

Salynne ©2009

Blogger Block Rears its Ugly Head

Blogger Block seems to have reared its ugly head; its been one week since I've posted.
Don't get me wrong, its not writers block. I've been writing other things, in fact I've been working on and editing several pieces that I intend to submit for publication. My most intersting project this past week has been my work on a Round Robin created by our writing group. The story has become rather unweildy and so I'm working on a summary of events & character descriptions. Once that is done we will then have to decide how it ends and what we are going to do with it.
I haven't however been inspired by the computer screen. Today on my way home from work I had a brillant flash of something I should write. Of course, since I was in the middle of traffic and couldn't find a pen I didn't make a note of it and then life took over when I got home and now I have absolutely no idea what that fabulous topic was all about.
It will probably come to me at 2am this morning and I will keep a pen & paper beside the bed; then there should be a flurry of blogging over the next few days. At least let's hope that happens....

Salynne ©2009

Characters-What's in a Name

One of the blogs I follow discussed in the past week how to choose the names of characters. One person commented that they keep a list of odd and unusual names which they then look at when developing a story. Another source suggested a baby name book and if it is a historical name they said census records were very helpful.

I have found that one of my greatest sources is Movie credits. The movie industry has a lot of very interesting people although I do believe some of the names are made up; still this is a rich resource for character names.

For years I've kept a mental list of those interesting names but about a year ago when I decided to keep a character journal I started to include names as well. If I'm having trouble fleshing out an individual in a story then the next best step for me is to choose a name because somehow they then become more “solid”, rounded out and alive.

Another benefit to putting the names down? I feel like I've been able to clear out the cobwebs in my mind and don't have to carry the information around all of the time, afraid that I'll forget something really spectacular. Some of the most interesting names in my journal:

First Names:
Thaddeus
Cyri
Shayni (Gaelic-I almost name one of my daughters this!)
Estin (I just met someone with this name about two months ago!)
Aika Tahu (Moari)
Edryd (Gaelic)
Thomas Astbury
Yolanda
Bevan (Gaelic)
Bailey Hampton
Miguel
Viviane (French)
Xavier
Marius Cornelli
Nekane (Basque)
Godfrey

Surnames:
Parisian
Leger de Fanass
Collinsword
Ballendin
Madelmar
Paxden Dafoe
De Payen
Wrottsley

Do you have any favorites or unusual names that you want to share?

Salynne ©2009

Writing Exercises--Cliche's

Cliche's--Another Writing Group Exercise:
Free-write a contemporary scene with 2 characters in any stage of a romantic relationship using as many of the above clichés as possible.
· Forbidden love (disapproving parent/warring families);
· Dangerous love (bad boy or bad girl);
· Love triangles;
· I hate you, now I love you;
· The exotic, mysterious foreigner;
· The rich playboy vs. the poor but handsome neighbour;
· The Florence Nightingale syndrome (falling in love with your caretaker);
· Adultery;
· Good looks vs. a great personality;
· Misunderstandings keeping them apart;
· Some kind of bet;
· Innocent tickling that leads to an unexpected, intense attraction

Story 1:
When Jennifer and Jeff were in school they eyed each other with the distrust brought on by warring families but then Jeff had fallen and smacked his head on the pavement of the school parking lot. Jennifer was the first came to his aid. When Jeff opened his eyes he saw a vision of Jennifer & fell in love. She looked down at him in his sorrowful, bloody state and decided that he was the man for her.

Her family considered him a "bad" boy from the wrong side of the tracks and he was currently dating someone but she didn't care. She determined right then and there that Jeff was the one for her and she was not going to let anything come between her and her true love.

"Oh Jeff, let's get you to the nurses office".

Jeff, still in a dazed shock, managed to stand up and leaned on Jennifer while holding his head as they walked to the principals office. Suddenly he stopped and turned to her.

"Jennifer, I've grown up hating you, I've never been nice to you and now you've helped me. I...I love you."

"Oh Jeff, of course you do. I know my parents hate your parents and they look down on them. Your family is from the "wrong side of the tracks"...but I'm different. There are a lot of boys that I could have, especially good looking ones, but you, Jeff...well, you are the boy with personality and that's what I love about you."

"This is complicated Jennifer, I have a girlfriend."

"Well, you'll just have to ditch her Jeff. You can't love two girls at the same time."

"But what about her feelings, we've been going steady for almost a year. I think she's expecting an engagement ring when we graduate in June."

Story 2:
Jennifer walked down the street toward her apartment all the while thinking about her boyfriend Jeff and their relationship. They had both come from a small Canadian town and theirs was a forbidden love. His parents hated her parents and vice versa for something that happened thirty-five years ago. Rumours, whispered in the beauty parlor on the town's main street seem to point to a love triangle or some kind of bet that pitted the couples against each other.

When Jennifer and Jeff were in school they eyed each other with the distrust brought on by warring famlies but then Jeff had fallen and smacked his head on the pavement of the school parking lot. Jennifer was the first came to his aid. When Jeff opened his eyes he saw a vision of Jennifer & fell in love. She looked down at him in his sorrowful, bloody state and decided that he was the man for her. Now Jeff and Jennifer were living in the city away from their families and they were committed to each other. Well, at least Jennifer felt she was ready for the next step since the wedding date was fast approaching.

There had been others in college that had turned her head, like Joe, the oh so sexy "bad" boy. She had accepted his invitation to take a motorcycle ride on a whim and they ended up on the beach with a picnic lunch. During their walk along the shore she accidentally pushed him in the water and when he reached out to touch her she shrieked because he had touched her ticklish midriff. Joe sensing an opportunity for closer contact chase her until they fell into the sand and then then tickled her mercilessly. Suddenly the tickling wasn't tickling any more and the two of them embraced passionately. It was too cold to make love in the sand and it was a family beach so the foreplay ended there. On the way back to his apartment Jennifer felt pangs of guilt and asked Joe to take her home. He never spoke to her again.

Jennifer let herself in the front door of the apartment and went to the mail room to check her box. She heard the door open and just as she turned into the lobby to go up the elevator, John Smith from 312, the apartment two doors away from her place, entered into the lobby. He was tall, dark and devestatingly handsome, obviously foreign, with dark eyes that could bore into any woman's soul and made her leg's quiver.

His deep voice broke through the hum of the radiator, "Hello Jennifer."

Feb 25 2009
©Salynne Wilde

Wednesday Writing Group Insights

Wednesday's are the day that I attend writing group at work. It's not only a nice break to the day and week but its usually very inspiring and as I found out today can teach you a lot about yourself. Today there were 4 of us and our exercise went as follows:

Step 1: Someone picked a random word & we wrote it down on our sheet of paper
Step 2: Each of us picked a second word & wrote it down on our sheet of paper
Step 3: We passed our papers to the left & wrote our second word on our neighbours sheet. We continued to pass our papers, each time writing our second word on the sheet until our paper came back to us.
Step 4: Each of us picked a third word & wrote it down on our sheet of paper.
Step 5: We passed our papers to the left & wrote our third word on our neighbours sheet. We continued to pass our papers, each time writing our third word on the sheet until our paper came back to us.
Step 6: We now had nine words on our sheet and we had 15 minutes to write poetry, prose or what-have-you based on the words. The real catch? You must use the words in order. The idea is to write & not worry about punctuation or grammar-that can always be fixed later.

The really interesting thing about this exercise was that we all ended up with the same words on our papers but they were all in different order and I found it so interesting and inspiring to see the very different results. Three poems resulted and I wrote prose. Here are the words in my order & my result:

Wildflower
Skylight
Mystic
Battlefield
Seeds
Manic
Oaken
Parsnip
Deadhead

Wildflower stood beneath the skylight in her parents home with the sun streaming down on her and making her warm. This feeling of being alone, an orphan, was new to her; she was now completely on her own.

Her seventy-four year old mother had finally succumbed to pneumonia two weeks earlier on a day that she liked to think had mystic qualities. She thought back fondly to the serenity of the day. As her family was aboriginal Wildflower had requested the elders of their nation preside over her mothers final moments. They smoked the peace pipe and lit sweet grass to ease her passing. As the only progeny of her parents union, Wildflower had fought alone on the battlefield of Alzheimers with first her father and then finally her mother. She was spent and exhausted but she could feel the seeds of change taking root in her heart.

With an almost manic sense of needing to be free she pushed open the oaken door to the back yard. She stepped into the beautiful day and then meandered into her mother's vegetable garden. The parsnips were growing, the tomato's would soon be ready to harvest. The Echinacea plants, her mothers favorite healing herb, stood tall. She deadheaded a few of the purple flowers and held the blooms in her hands. This was a time of healing.

So I wouldn't consider this a fabulous piece of writing but its not bad for thinking on your feet & getting the words in order. Most importantly, I'll take this scene and insert elements in another piece that I'm working on. If there is anything that I'm proud of its the part about having "fought on the battlefield of Alzheimer's" & I will most certainly use that line again.

Perhaps the most important thing I learned from the exercise today is that over the past several weeks I've written a number of times about individuals stepping through doors symbolically to a change or a new life. I laughed when I realized that this parallels my life & is the way I'm feeling about a lot of things. It was an insightful moment.

Why don't you get together with a couple of friends and give the exercise at try. Who knows what personal realizations you might come out with.
©Salynne Wilde 2009