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Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

“The road of life twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the destination.” Don Williams 

Oregon’s Highway 395

My kind of journey is one in which I travel slowly and has many twists and turns and surprises around every curve in the road. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Sunshine Blogger Award

Just Words   kzackuslheureux. wordpress.com  awarded me a Sunshine Blogger Award. It’s always nice to think that I’ve brought sunshine into someone’s day, so thank you very much. I’m using my Bean’s Pat to pay back the honor on a daily basis.

Bean’s Pat: Write to Done http://tinyurl.com/89wxokt  One’s writing is something that can always be improved, and this is a great blog to help you do just that. It’s also a new way to look at your “quirky” family. 

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The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
And I must follow, if I can,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say —
J.R.R, Tolkien

Listening to the Planet’s Pulse

A jet paints the desert sky with its contrail. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Yesterday, if you look at it the way I tend to do, was a wasted day. Nothing on my daily to-do list, including blogging, was accomplished.

I woke up in a mood to do nothing, and nothing I did. At my age, when more of my life is behind me than ahead of me, wasted days frighten me.

But today I awoke refreshed, ready to once again try to give my life meaning. I began it with a short hike here in the fresh desert air above Tucson. As I walked I realized yesterday was not wasted. I had needed just such a day and it was time I stopped feeling guilty about taking it.

Am I contemplating this northern cardinal, or is the bird contemplating me? -- Pat Bean

Then I started truly noticing my surroundings in a different way. The saguaro cactus weren’t simply cactus; they were homes for wildlife, shade for them, too, when the desert sun-scorched the earth.

I listened to the hum of the city around me. I felt the earth beneath me beat with the sound of traffic on distant highways, and watched as a jet flew overhead, marking the sky with its contrail. There was a part of me that longed for the absolute silence I’ve heard only once in my life.

That occurred in Utah’s Escalante wilderness when a photographer and I drove the Burr Trail for a newspaper story we were writing and photographing. I was amazed how still the earth had been back then, realizing how noisy a simple refrigerator’s hum could be.

But this day, I also enjoyed the feeling of being a part of the pulsing world from which I had tried to escape yesterday. What a difference a day makes.

Bean’s Pat: To Write is to Write http://tinyurl.com/72lmlwy This is a blog I could have written with only minor changes. It made me laugh. I chose it two days ago, and now I wonder if it influenced my yesterday. P.S. Thanks Jim http://notyethere.wordpress.com/  for sending me Tolkien’s quote.

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 “You see the woman across the room, you think, She’s so poised; she’s so together. But she looks at you and you are the woman across the room for her.” – Diane von Furstenberg

“Identity is not found, the way Pharaoh’s daughter found Moses in the bulrushes. Identify is built.” Margaret Halsey

Life is full of both beauty and thorns. I'm thankful for the words of others that have helped me past the prickly patches. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Still Finding My Way

I found the two above quotes this morning on Story Circle Network’s weekly offering of wise words and writing prompts. They touched me.

I know that next year they may be words with no meaning to me. It’s often that way with the quotes I write down in my journals.

Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day or the next day, I will be more secure within myself. The loss of two pets within eight days took a toll on me. I know I still have a way to go to get back to feeling like the gutsy, daring old-broad that I’ve worked hard to create.

Perhaps tomorrow it will be Tolkien’s quote: “It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him,” that is most meaningful to me. That was actually a quote that meant a lot to me during one exciting, but difficult year.

Other people’s words have helped me through life. They’ve let me know that I’m not as alone as I feel, that others have walked my same path.

Their words make me glad to call myself a writer. I can only hope that my words have occasionally touched others as I have been touched.

Bean’s Pat: The Blood Red Pencil http://tinyurl.com/6selj7b Simply a good blog for writers to follow

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“Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. To “Why am I here?’ to uselessness. It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus” – Enid Bagnold

These cactus made me think of John Denver's "Sunshine on My Shoulder Makes Me Happy." -- Photo by Pat Bean

Where Ideas Come From

I was asked this morning where I get my writing ideas.

It’s not the first time I’ve been asked this, and I still stumble over the answer.

This morning, my inspiration for my blog was a walk through a desert landscape filled with many varieties of cacti.

Within 100 yards of leaving my daughter’s driveway, I had seen half a dozen different varieties. Their differences set off my brain on a path of comparing the cacti to the people I know. Tall and short like Mutts and Jeffs; sunny like the blooms on a barrel cactus or especially thorny like the cholla; open to life, like the saguaro’s wide-stretch reach to the sky, or closed up like a low-growing hedgehog cactus.

Perhaps it was this old dead saguaro, looking much like an old man reaching for the sky, that was the real inspiration for today's blog. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I saw a large prickly pear cactus that glowed pink around its edges. It made me think of someone like myself, who prefers to look at the world through rose-colored glasses.

The truth is my writing ideas come from everywhere, at least the starting point. If I’m lucky, as I was today when I went searching for a quote to go with today’s blog and found Bagnold’s great one, I get a bit of inspiration that will tie my thoughts into something more meaningful.

Then there are days when I sit down to write about one thing and end up writing about something entirely different. It’s as if my fingers on a keyboard take charge.

I suspect that unless you’re a writer probably none of this makes any sense.

Oh well. That’s the writing life. Some days you communicate, and some days you don’t.

Bean’s Pat: Wistfully Wandering http://tinyurl.com/dxb8xhp Alice Springs. This blog was my choice for today because it is a place that is calling for this wandering/wondering old broad to visit.

 

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More About Maine

“I felt like I’d been misplaced in the cosmos and belonged in Maine … I had to live this long, have the experiences I’ve had, to create what I do. I knew I wanted to write for years, but I had to be ready so I wouldn’t blow it. The move to Maine was the final step. ” — Terry Goodkind

Travels With Maggie

Acadia National Park -- Photo by Pat Bean

Yesterday’s blog of a simply photograph, quote and my Bean’s Pat was a throw away, the kind of blog I write when I need a break from writing.

The comments it brought, however, got me thinking more about Maine and the nine days I spent there. The trip was part of a six-month, 23-states-and-Canada, 7,000-mile journey I made in 2006. It was my first time in New England.

I dawdled along the way, so that far too many of Maine’s birds that I wanted to see had already migrated by the time I reached Bar Harbor, Maine. I saw only eight new life birds of the twenty or so I had expected to find. And a storm blew up the day I was supposed to go whale watching.

Other than those annoyances, everything else about my Maine stay was perfect.

Bar Harbor streetscape. While I missed the birds, I caught the town's off season serenity. -- Photo by Pat Bean

One of the nicest things about my stay just outside of Bar Harbor was the free shuttle bus that stopped at my campground every half hour or so, and which took me all over Mount Desert Island, including Acadia National Park while my canine traveling compainion, Maggie, stayed behind in the RV.

The park is full of natural wonders to explore. One of these was Cadillac Mountain, the highest summit on the East Coast north of Rio de Janeiro, and the first spot in the mainland states to be hit by the morning sun in the fall and winter.

I was on its summit one dawn to catch that first ray of rosy light. I laughed, but to myself, when one guy standing nearby spotted a herring gull and got all excited because he thought he had seen a bald eagle. No reason I thought to extinguish his excitement. Later in the day I did see a bald eagle soaring over the park. I hope that guy also saw it.

As replacement for the canceled whale tour, I took a trolley tour of the island. Our guide was full of facts and trivia, such as President William Howard Taft’s 27 strokes on the Kebo Valley Golf Club’s 17th hole back in 1910, and the fact that scenes for the Dark Shadows TV soap opera had occasionally been filmed on Mount Desert.

Hopefully the next time I’m in Maine – a revisit is definitely on my to-do list – I’ll arrive before the birds have migrated south.

Bean’s Pat: All Write: Spring and the Cigarettus Smokerus http://tinyurl.com/7ox9d76 As an avid bird watcher, I laughed my head off at this. But, warning, if you don’t have a sense of humor some among you may find this offensive and sexist.

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Here's what my old manual Remmington looked like. Someone on e-Bay wants $299 for its memories. Mine are worth a whole lot more, but I don't need to spend $299 to recall them.

 Mark Twain, according to Wikipedia, claims that he was the first important writer to present a publisher with a typewriten manuscript. It was the 1886 manuscript for “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.” Historian Darryl Rehr challenged the claim, claiming it was Twain’s “Life on the Mississippi” written in 1883, that was the first.

Once Upon A Time

I taught myself to type on an old Remington manual typewriter. I then got a job as a Western Union typist – I typed up telegraphs from people who called on the phone to send one. My biggest thrill was the day Tennessee Ernie Ford was on the other end of the line.

A familar happening when I typed on my old manual Remington

My typing speed went from 45 words a minute to 120 words a minute. But the job only lasted a few months before I quit to become barefoot and pregnant for what seemed like an eternity.

It was in the middle of my seven consecutive years of changing diapers that I decided I wanted to be a writer. For the next few years I banged out terrible fictional prose and dookie poetry on that old Remington. That’s how you began to be a writer.

Then I stuck into the back door of a small newspaper as a darkroom flunky, and over the next four years worked my way up to being the paper’s star reporter. I thought of myself as a cross between Lois Lane and Brenda Starr.

Eleven years later, when I was a reporter at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, I typed up my first story on a computer. I hated it – for all of two weeks.

At home, however, I was still typing away on that old Remington. But as the computers at work got better and better, I finally gave up my Remington for a home computer. I don’t question that the writing was easier and faster, but to this day, I still miss my old Remington.

Remember changing out typewriter ribbons, and making carbon copies. I suspect only those of us with more years behind us than ahead have such memories.

There was something extremely gratifying about manually slamming the carriage back at the end of each sentence. Then there was the ability to yank a piece of paper, containing nothing but meaningless dookie, out of the machine. The ritual then was to crumple it into a ball and toss the wad into a nearby waste basket.On especially bad writing days, the basket would be overflowing and the area around it a jungle of paper balls.

One simple does not get the same physical release of frustration from merely using a finger to hit the delete button.

The truth is however, that I don’t want to go back. Couldn’t even if I wanted, but it sure is nice to have memories. And that old Remington typewriter, which eventually was donated to a charity thrift store, created lots of them.

Too bad I didn’t keep it. I think I paid $7.50 for it at a garage sale in the early 1960s. I noted today that one similiar to it, if not the exact model, was listed for a $299 minimum bid on e-Bay.

Bean’s Pat: Wistfully Wandering http://tinyurl.com/836mqtu Ditto what she said. A blog for those with wanderlust in their souls. Be sure and check out her first 25 reasons, too.

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“Give me the comma of imperfect striving, thus to find zest in the immediate living. Ever the reaching but never the gaining, ever the climbing but never the attaining of the mountain top.” — Winston Graham

While this tiny creek is too small to make most maps, it makes it on the list of my favorite places. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Travels With Maggie

Wyoming's Grand Teton, photographed at the end of a hike to Taggart Lake, makes my long, long list of favorite places. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I get tongue-tied when people ask me what’s my favorite place among those Maggie and I have visited in our RV travels.

How do you name one among so many?

I’ve discovered beauty and awesomeness everywhere I’ve gone, from coast to coast and border to border.

I’ve ridden to the top, in a tiny cramped ball, of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, crossed the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, stood beneath Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln at Mount Rushmore, and gazed down on New York City from the top of the Empire State Building.

All these places were awesome.

But just as grand and beautiful in the eyes of this nature-loving old broad have been all the nature refuges, lakes, mountains, rivers big and small and even the trees, especially the redwoods, that Maggie and I have visited.

Yes. Perhaps that’s the answer. My favorite place is where Mother Nature resides. 

Bean’s Pat: 20 Minutes a Day: Saturday Morning http://tinyurl.com/6w8ce3h A writing prompt that had me laughing all the way through.

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 “It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: He catches the changes of his mind on the hop.” – Vita Sackville-West

The Write Word

Watching a sunrise is my idea of a good ritual to start any day. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Completing the rewrite of my book, “Travels With Maggie.” was high on my list of New Year’s Resolutions, yet I procrastinated doing it for the entire month of January.

February has been better because I finally turned on the light bulb in my brain and then took some advice from a famous dancer.

It dawned on me that the way I got through NANO (writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days) was by making it the No. 1 activity of my days, which have always been filled with many eggs to crack and enjoy. So, I decided “Travels With Maggie” would be my No. 1 priority.

Any sunset is the perfect time for the ritual of counting the day's blessings. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Then I started reading Twyla Tharp’s book “The Creative Habit,” in which she talks about the importance of ritual as a way to make sure she went to the gym daily so as to keep her body in shape for dancing. It’s the same, I thought, for writers. We must exercise our writing fingers and minds daily for the most benefits.

Twyla’s ritual was the taxi cab ride she took to the gym. She knew that once she got to the gym, she would both exercise and enjoy it.

“Some people might say,” Twyla wrote, “that simply stumbling out of bed and getting into a taxicab hardly rates the honorific ritual that anyone can perform. I disagree. First steps are hard; it’s no one’s idea of fun to wake up in the dark every day and haul one’s tired body to the gym … but the quasi–religious power I attach to this ritual keeps me from rolling over and going back to sleep.”

After reading that, I decided I needed my own ritual. I made it the simple one of  setting my alarm clock to signal the end of the writing time I had promised myself.

Believe it or not it worked yesterday when I woke up in the mood to do anything but write.  Just set the alarm clock, I told myself. And I did. And I wrote.

Bean’s Pat: Writing Though Life http://tinyurl.com/7r4wmez This is a great blog for anyone writing a memoir, keeping a journal or even just blogging regularly.

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A bouquet of black-eyed susans to brighten my followers' day. -- Photo by Pat Bean

“You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.’ Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Travels With Maggie

Dookie … Dookie … Dookie. That’s the g-rated version of my favorite S word. You know, the stuff that smells as bad as a skunk.

But it was the S-word I said several times yesterday, loud enough for Maggie to give me a quizzical look, when I couldn’t get my blog to post.

 

And a special rose to all those who nominated me for a blog award. Thank you. -- Photo by Pat Bean

My computer screen kept telling me there was an error on the page. That in itself was only worth a few dookies. It was while I was randomly pushing buttons to solve the problem and accidentally deleted two posts – the swan and the Henry Ford ones – that caused me to revert to screaming out the S-word. Maggie sat up on that exclamation.

It took me about three hours of fiddling before I finally got yesterday’s blog to post. The error, which was finally corrected, was nothing more than a wrong link for my Bean’s Pat. Why in the dookie didn’t the computer simply tell me that? I mean if it knew there was an error, surely it knew what it was.

Or am I giving my geeky, top-of-the-line computer to which I’m addicted, and which has more power than was used to take man to the moon and back, too much credit.?

Meanwhile, since I try to fill my blog with positives – because there’s already too much negatives in this crazy world we live in – I’m now going to mention that my readers have given me some awards that I failed to mention in a timely manner.

My grandmother told me never to brag about myself, but I think she was wrong. I think it’s OK to now and then give ourselves a personal pat on the back for a well-done achievement, just so long as we don’t get in the habit of playing one-upmanship.

The awards include: Three nominations for Versatile Blogger, a Kreativ Blogger award, and a Lamplighter Award. I must have done something right because they all came in the space of two days, overwhelming me. In defense, I flagged the notifications and then promptly forgot about them.

Finding them at the bottom of my e-mail messages (I was cleaning out my mailbox while trying to figure out how to solve my blog-posting problem) was the bright point of my dookie-S-word yesterday. Each of the nominators, if they haven’t already, will eventually receive a Bean’s Pat, because I think their blogs are great, too.

Now does anybody know how to recover deleted WordPress posts and put them back in the order they belong?

Bean’s Pat: http://lavenderdragonfly.wordpress.com/ Great blog of quotes to live by.

 

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“All things share the same breath – the beast, the tree, the man … the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.” Chief Seattle

Travels With Maggie

If you want to see wood storks, Pine Island is the place to go. One of these, perhaps the same one, sat in the top of the tree that help shade my RV from the Florida sun. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I spent a month on Pine Island, exploring such nearby places as the west side of the Everglades, Audubon’s Corkscrew Sanctuary and Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge, which were all wonderful places.

But if I wanted to see birds, which of course I always want to do, all I had to do was look out my RV window.

I was especially fond of the word storks that haunted the Dumpster area of the large RV park where I stayed. The also visited me and Maggie at our RV site.

Bean’s Pat: Ruthless Scribblings: 12 (and a half) rules for writing http://tinyurl.com/7bmd3d7 Some good things for writers to remember.

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