Sweat, Tears, and Story Ideas

There's a creative writing contest I'm interested in entering which calls for a short story with a maximum word count of 2000, inspired by this quote:

"The key to change...is to let go of fear."

-- Rosanne Cash

I've been chewing on the quote for a couple days now, but no characters have whispered to me and no story lines have wiggled their way into my imagination.  Until this morning.

There I was, on the treadmill for the first time since before my trip to France, going at a much slower pace than what's "normal" for me but getting my sweat on just the same.  (How come it takes so long to get INTO shape, and such a short time to fall OUT of shape??)

And a story began to reveal itself, a tight skein of fiction unraveling with each quarter mile into a colorful pile of plot and character threads, ready for sorting and weaving.  I was so inspired, I almost pushed the 'end workout' button and dashed for my car.  But how ungrateful would that have been?  My faithful writing partner, the treadmill, deserved a full visit, especially since it's been so long since we last enjoyed each others company.  So I finished the program, happy, my heart rate elevated and skin glistening with sweat.

And then I dashed for my car.

I'm off to bang out my first draft of the new short.  (*raises arm and sniffs pit*)  ...And then I'll really need a shower.

I'm often inspired to write when I'm on the treadmill.  Where are you when story ideas frequently come to you? 

High Drama Blogfest!

     My entry for DL Hammon's High Drama Blogfest was originally written during a two-week long challenge I took earlier this year.  Inspired by a different photograph prompt each day, I was to write for exactly fifteen minutes.
     On this particular day, the prompt was a manipulated photographic image of a seductive woman stood poised, as if dancing, at stage right. She was almost in silhouette from the glare of stage lights.  But dead center was (obviously Photoshopped in) an enormous pair of heavily made-up eyes.  The immediate impulse was to write a voyeuristic piece of erotica, but the contest asked us to look deeper into the photo, up our bars, and find an unexpected story.  That's what I tried to do.  You decide whether I was successful. :)

Mama

By Nicole Ducleroir

My hand pauses midair, inky mascara wand quivering.  I stare at my eyes in the mirror, but all I see is the photograph of my mother, wedged into the upper corner of the mirror's frame. In my peripheral vision, she seems to be moving, swaying her hips in slow figure eights of seduction. When I shift my eyes up to it, she freezes, arms stretched over her head, her body’s curves exaggerated.

The photo is old; Mom could have been my age in it. The photographer captured her during some performance, in some city, during some tour. I don’t even remember when it came into my possession. It feels like I’ve always had it. 

I think of my mother and chords of emotion tangle up, choking my heart. She is a loving woman, angelic even. The scrapbook of my mind falls open to a random page, of her singing softly to me when I had the chicken pox, to distract me from tearing at my itchy skin. Mental fingers rifle through more pages; memories surge of us lying on a blanket in the shade of a tree in the park, tickling each other until our laughter lost its sound and we gasped for breath. Or the summer nights neither of us could sleep, when we’d crawl out the upstairs window and lie on the hot roof, counting stars. 

The tangle tightens, reining in my nostalgia.

Darker pages divulge… The mornings, too numerous to count, when I’d wake up in my frilly, pink bed and stumble to the kitchen, dragging my teddy bear by the arm, to silence broken only by the ticking clock over the sink. No smell of brewing coffee. No boxes of cereal laid out on the table for a little girl to choose. No sign of an adult, anywhere.

Or the late night jam sessions and long-haired musicians.  Flashes of frightening tattoos and the strangers who flaunt them, given free range of our house. And me, cowering in the shadows of the stairwell, listening to the sound of glasses clinking and smelling smoke, its various perfumes wafting together in a haze. I learned curse words I knew where vile even at that young age. And when I wanted Mom to tuck me into bed, she’d stare at me with black eyes that should have been blue, as if she didn’t recognize me.

More often than not, she didn’t.

A knock at the door startles me.  Mom resumes her dance in my peripheral vision, and in the mirror I see the door behind me open and Ted stick in his head.

“You’re on in five.”

I thank him and he closes the door. I go to stand, but my head spins and I grip the dressing table to steady myself. One hand strays to my still-flat tummy, rests on the coarse, sequined material. I wait for the nausea to pass, but it won’t. I glance once more at Mom as I turn and rush to the toilet.

(499 words)

l'd love to hear what you think!  Also, click this link check out all the participants in today's

High Drama Blogfest!

Happy Writing the Weekend!

This Newbie's Twitter 911 Call

My Twitter 911 call is below, but first off: Don't miss uber-awesome Lola Sharp's epic give-away contest.  Her recent vacation in Maine inspired the prizes up for grabs, including Stephen King's On Writing, the scariest fridge magnet you've ever seen, featuring that freaky clown from It (the movie), a bottle of Lola's signature scent (Marc Jacob's perfume sharing her name), AND a surprise prize from Maine, (I'm hoping it's a lobster, but that's just me :D).

You have to be a Sharp Pen/Dull Sword follower to enter (and she's one of the wittiest, most creative bloggers I know, so you "win" just by following!)

Contest ends August 20th!  Enter HERE!

Now...I need your help.

I joined Twitter...and I'm a little confuzzled and would love some help figuring it all out.

Anyone with answers and/or tips regarding the following, please feel free to comment below or email me at heftynicki(at)writing(dot)com:

*  Is there some sort of main page where everyone's tweets stream in real time?  Or do you only see what's on your home page timeline, ie: the tweets by the people you follow?

*  If I search in Twitter, do I have to know the hashtag, or can I type any subject/keyword in there?

*  Is there a place on my Twitter homepage where I can store people's usernames, so I don't have to go to their page to remember their @username?

*  And if so, how do I add their @username at the end of my tweet?  (Gawd, I'm such a Twitter newbie *blush*)

*  What in the hell is #FF????

*  ANY tips on Twitter etiquette are greatly appreciated, including:
-- Do I thank people who follow me?  ...how?
-- Do people direct tweets at other people, or only respond to general tweets people send out?
-- What's an example of being rude on Twitter?
-- What's the general "follow back" policy?

Okay, that's enough questions, for now.  If these spark ideas in areas I didn't cover, don't hold back!  Share your thoughts in the comment area!

Huge shout-out to everyone who's already noticed little me over there and clicked the follow button.  I appreciate you so much!!

To find me on Twitter, just click here:  NicoleDwrites  Hope to see you there!

What Does It Mean To Be Present? -- Blog Book Tour

I’m thrilled to participate today in the Blog Book Tour for Little Pickle Press and their newly released children’s book What Does It Mean To Be Present?  This little treasure’s beautiful message, illustrated with whimsical brilliance, is capturing the fancy of children and parents alike.

(One Significant Moment followers are able to purchase What Does it Mean To Be Present at a discounted rate online.  Receive your coupon code below!)

Author Rana DiOrio's third book in the What Does it Mean... series is a refreshing, vibrant picture book aimed at children 4-8 years old, which engages all of the senses and explores answers to a deceptively simple question, “What does it mean to be present?”  Each colorful page reveals how to seize the moment and "be present," sharing ideas that will open important dialog between children and parents, and teachers and students.

In DiOrio's words, being present can mean “listening carefully when other people are speaking”; “focusing on what’s happening now instead of thinking about what’s next”; or “savoring each bite of your delicious food.” The book helps children judge what’s truly important in life.

The author's powerful messages resonate with adults, too.  As I read, I reflected on my own rushed, often hectic daily life.  It’s easy to forget to slow down,  to indulge the senses, and to listen to your heart sing.   Children learn to behave primarily through the example set by their care-givers.  This book is a wonderful tool for grown-ups who know there is no greater gift than teaching a child the importance of “closing your eyes and being still enough to hear your inner voice.”

DiOrio’s words come alive accompanied by the magic of Eliza Wheeler’s whimsical illustrations.  Through Wheeler's drawings, a story emerges of two children, a boy and a girl, as they move through their day.   Wheeler creates the book's wonderful sense of flow as the background scenery moves from setting to setting, with each turn of the page.    And children will be delighted to hunt on every page for the blue butterfly and the orange fruit, sometimes out in plain view, sometimes slightly hidden.   When Wheeler was asked about the butterfly in a recent interview, she said:

“Whenever a butterfly is around people seem to stop to watch them. They are fragile, gentle creatures that don't usually live long, yet they bring such beauty while they are here. I included blue butterflies on each page because kids love to search within drawings and find repetition. Searching for the butterflies slows them down as they read the book, and helps them to be "present" and fully experience each page.”

I love that!


I was completely enchanted by What Does It Mean to be Present? and I highly recommend it.  Be sure to seek out the other two titles in the series: What Does It Mean to be Green? and What Does It Mean to be Global?




An Offer Just For You


Rana DiOrio and the Little Pickle Press are offering One Significant Moment followers a great deal!  You can order online any two books in the series and a free poster of choice, all for just $29.95.  


Go HERE and type the coupon code MOMENT at check-out.




Grand Prize Give Away


You could win all three books in the What Does It Mean... series, plus four posters and a DabbaWalla backpack.  Click HERE for full details!

About the Author

Rana DiOrio was born in Providence, RI and grew up in a colorful Italian-American family. Her curiosity about the world began in kindergarten, while studying Western access to China and, obviously, panda bears! She has written her way through life – as a student, a lawyer, an investment banker, a private equity investor - and now as an author of children’s picture books and owner of Little Pickle Press.

Rana’s motivation for writing What Does It Mean To Be Present? was deciding that she had a Blackberry® addiction and hoping that the best cure would be to write about how best to live without it. Her interests include reading nonfiction, dreaming, effecting positive change, and, of course, practicing yoga. She lives in Belvedere, California with her husband and their three Little Pickles.

About the Illustrator

Eliza Wheeler, an award winning children's book illustrator, was born into a family of musicians, artists, and teachers, and was raised in the north woods of Wisconsin. As a toddler, she adored crayons, and drawing has been her favorite creative outlet ever since. Eliza received her BFA in Graphic Design at the University of Wisconsin-Stout; shortly thereafter, she abandoned the mouse and embraced pen on paper to pursue a career in illustration. She began studying illustration in earnest and fell in love all over again with the picture books of her childhood. Now, Eliza has found her true calling — illustrating for the children’s book market and creating illustrated gifts for her online gallery.




For the schedule of all the blogs on this Virtual Book tour, click HERE.  Don't miss tomorrow's tour stop at It's Not All Flowers and Sausages.


Thanks to Dani Greer at Blog Book Tours for inviting me to participate today.  And thanks to Alex Cavanaugh for thinking of me and passing my name to Dani!

~H.A.P.P.Y D.A.N.C.E~

7:10 a.m., and the house is quiet.  And it isn't because the children are snug in their beds, dreaming of carefree summer bliss.

The beds are already made.

Any dreaming of carefree summer bliss is happening on the school bus.

That's right, the children have gone back to school...and now my vacation begins.  Just kidding!  Sorry if I sound a bit giddy.  And please don't misunderstand.  It isn't that I haven't enjoyed my children immensely this summer.  I have!  It's been one of the best on record.  But, this schedule-oriented, deadline-loving, early-to-bed-early-to-rise, muggy weather-hating, I-need-silence-to-work writer is doing the happy dance today!

Back to business as usual.  And the first step is:

Re-evaluate my goals for 2010.

I approach the year in two five-month blocks.  Think about it.  On January first, it's easy to look the year to come straight on, as a twelve month entity.  But summer derails all my best-intended goals.

In reality, I'm on-track in all aspects of my life (my writing, the housework, my health and fitness routine, etc.) from January through May.  Then, school lets out -- and all hell breaks loose -- for summer break.

We sleep in, sometimes staying in our jammies until it's time to put the swim suits on and head for the pool.  We eat Cheez-Its and Diet Coke for lunch.  I put baskets of clean, badly-wrinkled laundry back in the dryer, because I never get around to folding the clothes the same day I wash them. Every evening I remember I didn't take meat out of the freezer, so I dash to the store to buy steaks for dinner.  We start a feature-length movie at 8:30 at night, eat dinner on the living room coffee table in front of the TV, finish the dishes at 11:30, shoo the kids off to bed by midnight, and finally fall into bed in the wee hours -- only to get up late the next morning and do it all over again.

And my WiP gathers dust in the binder where I put it, back when I was preparing for the trip to France.

But today begins the second five-month block of 2010.  August through December sees the return to normalcy around here.  My beloved daily schedule resumes!  (*fist pump*)

So, re-evaluation time.  I took pages of notes in France, for a new story floating around the edges of my mind.  But I won't turn my attention there just yet.  First things first.  I'm sticking to my original deadline of finishing the first draft of Overcome by November first.  I want to attend the Georgia Writers Association's Red Clay Writer's Conference on November 6th with a completed manuscript in hand.  So I need to write, on the WiP, e.v.e.r.y.d.a.y.

Also, I need to get my @ss back in the gym.  I've managed to maintain my weight, more or less, this summer, but my muscle tone is disappearing.  I can't wait to get my sweat on.

This week, I'm easing into things.  Organizing my desk, mopping a sticky floor here and there, actually planning a couple meals.  Tomorrow I hit the gym with Lorri.  (But afterwards, we're heading over to a friend's pool where she's hosting a "Our Kids Are Back In School Let's Drink Margaritas and Celebrate Party.")

And I'm going to write.  At least 500 words.  E.V.E.R.Y.D.A.Y.

By next week, I should be completely transitioned back to my regularly scheduled life.

What are your goals this week?  Please share -- it'll help me to feed off your motivation energies!

Don't Do It -- Evah!

Other distracting activities include:

• Using a cell phone
• Eating and drinking
• Talking to passengers
• Grooming
• Reading, including maps
• Using a PDA or navigation system
• Watching a video
• Changing the radio station, CD, or Mp3 player.

Did You Know?

Research on distracted driving reveals some surprising facts:

• In 2008, slightly more than almost 20 percent of all crashes in the year involved some type of distraction. (National Highway Traffic Safety Administration - NHTSA).
• Nearly 6,000 people died in 2008 in crashes involving a distracted driver, and more than half a million were injured. (NHTSA)
• The younger, inexperienced drivers under 20 years old have the highest proportion of distraction-related fatal crashes.
• Drivers who use hand-held devices are four times as likely to get into crashes serious enough to injure themselves. (Source: Insurance Institute for Highway Safety)
• Using a cell phone use while driving, whether it’s hand-held or hands-free, delays a driver's reactions as much as having a blood alcohol concentration at the legal limit of .08 percent. (Source: University of Utah)

(The above facts were copied from the Official US Government Website For Distracted Driving.

Please visit the site today: DISTRACTION.gov)

I have a steadfast rule in my car:  NO CELL PHONE USAGE.  I won't answer a call, not even with a blue tooth accessory.  I won't read or respond to a text message.  If my kids are in the car with me, and if it's appropriate, I ask them to type a text I dictate, or answer the phone.  Otherwise, I wait until I'm parked, engine off, to use my phone.

My cell phone voice mail message is:  "Hello!  I'm either away from my phone or driving the car, but I'll call you back as soon as possible.  Until then, have a great day!"  Of course, I worry that someone may take me for a snooty Oprah-wannabe.  But if that message-leaver is a friend or family member I love, making the call from her car, and she is reminded not to risk her life or the lives of others by driving distractedly, then I don't care if labels are cast on me.

Some things are worth that climb atop the soap box :D

Have a wonderful and safe weekend! 

Box-O-Juicy Words

The countdown is on, and in just five short days my upbeat children will enter again the hallowed halls of elementary and middle schools.  Summer swept us into her sunny whirlpool, leaving us giddy, light-headed, and incredulous that it could possibly be over, already.

And the promise of a quiet house, paramount for writers like me, is tucked in a box on the next page of my week-at-a-glance calendar, waiting like a gift to be opened on the 2nd.

My muse is having a hard time waiting.

To soothe her unsettled soul, I pulled out my Word Box this morning.

This is one of my favorite possessions.  The box itself was made by my mother in her small, basement stained glass studio.  The glass is clear with what looks like embedded scraps in various tints of rose-colored tissue paper and threadlike ribbons of black ink.  The hinged top is inlaid with opaque glass and beveled mirrored.  Mom did a great job soldering the pieces together.  I was heartbroken when one of the kids accidentally knocked it off the coffee table last year, but now I think the crack you see along the front facing side, and the fact that the lid now closes off-centered, adds to the box's life story and charm. 

Inside this box are juicy words.

Last year, I cut narrow strips of colored card stock, and over the course of several weeks I wrote upon them delicious-sounding, descriptive words.  The box stays in a prominent place (but no longer on the dangerous coffee table) where I add to it whenever I hear a vivid or picturesque word.

When Sidney and I cook together, we take turns swishing around the words and pulling two scraps of paper out.  Those words become our names for the evening.  Once I was Pristine Flabbergast, and Sidney was Polite Lovely-Green.

Since Muse is chomping at the bit to write, but I have a three-boy sleepover party ready to awaken at any moment and demand breakfast -- (...did I just hear a toilet flush downstairs?...) -- I decided to share with you my little early morning exercise.

I stirred up the words, infusing the papers with my creative energy, and pulled my hand away.  I wrote a list of all the words I could read without moving the papers:

Treasure

Disturb

Maple rose

Extinguish

Vibrant

Breathe

Loneliness

Frantic

Torch

Filter

Write

Silliness

Wander

Aura

Shoe

Remember

And from the words, I gave myself five minutes to compose a poem.  My rules for this game are it's okay to add short connector words (the, its, than, etc.), and if a word is better used as a different part of speech (silliness [noun] becomes silly [adjective]), change away!  With only five minutes, you really have to muzzle your inner editor and embrace the whimsical results.  Here were mine:

Remember

Filter not the silliness you write

Better to let its vibrant aura breathe

Than extinguish the treasure torch.

And...

...always wear your wander shoes.

I wasn't able to use disturb, frantic, or loneliness.  I guess my energy rejected them.  And Maple Rose missed the creative cut, too.

Feel inspired?  What funky word combinations can you come up with from this list?  (Ex. Frantic Torch)  Can you write a line of poetry using some of these words?  Please share your inspired results in the comments!