BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


Leave a comment

No November

unnamed.jpgI’m shocked at myself. For the past several years I’ve participated in NaBloPoMo, that crazy challenge to publish a blog post each day. Not only have I participated, I’ve been successful. This year, however, I did not. And by not, I mean NOT. Not one single post has graced this blog since October, and now here we are knee deep in the winter holiday season.

Of course there are reasons, but none of them are terribly compelling. I could have done it. Maybe not a post a day, but at least one post sometime during the month. But nope, I did not. In fact I hummed along day to day more of less ignoring the fact that I even have a blog. A blog which I’ve nurtured for the past five and a half years. A blog that I’ve poured my heart into, not to mention quite a few hours of my life. And yet, there it sat, neglected.

Well, I’m here to apologize. I apologize to anyone who has wondered where I’ve been. I apologize to my poor lonely blog (as if it has feelings). I apologize to myself. I deserve to take the time and spend the energy it takes to sort out my thoughts and share them, even if nobody reads them. I’m back, and hopefully I’ll be around for a long time to come.


Leave a comment

Trying On Personalities

 

PatientPersonalities_6.23.17.png

I’ve been having a little fun with fiction. I’ve been trying on different personalities in the form of characters I’m writing. First person narratives are so different from third person. Getting into the character makes me feel like I really know him or her. Well, her. So far I’ve been working with female characters, probably because they’re what I know best.

Maybe it’s time to get a little bolder. I’ve written a few women, and they’ve been young. Far younger than I am. I suppose it’s because in my head I’m far younger than I am in my body. Teenage me is still alive and well, but fortunately she’s not in charge. Can you imagine? That would be a disaster.

Can I write older? I suppose I can try it, but it will be quite a bit more difficult. After all, I’ve been younger than I am now, but I’ve never been older. Of course I know older people, and I have my entire life, but it’s not the same as having that first-hand experience. Still, I think I’m going to give it a go.

Then there’s gender. At the moment I’m thinking in terms of simple binary, that is male and female. Again, these are the ones I’m most familiar with. Yes, I have met transgender people, and yes, the people I’ve met have been lovely, but I don’t know nearly enough about their experiences in the world to pretend to be able to write a convincing character at this point.

I’ve written characters from different backgrounds, from a former child soldier in South Sudan to an undocumented Mexican man full of machismo to a little girl living in foster care unsure of her future. None of these characters have been in first person, though. I think it would be enlightening to go back to some of these people (yes, I know they’re imaginary, but they’re still people) and write from their points of view. What is that scared little girl seeing and hearing in the dark in a strange bedroom far away from her family? How does his past haunt the Sudanese “Lost Boy” and does he feel survivor’s guilt? What, and who, did the Mexican man leave behind when he crossed the border? Was it worth it? Will he ever voluntarily go back?

It’s a fascinating exercise in empathy and creativity. At our core we share undeniable similarities. How these manifest, and how our differences separate us, are topics of unending wonder. I’m so lucky I can write my way into whatever personality I feel like choosing.


Leave a comment

Did I Really Write That?

I’ve been at this blogging thing since June of 2013, so a solid five years now. In that time I’ve published nearly 700 posts. Most of them have a fair number of words to them. Some, however, are quite short, and feature photos or a video instead of my usual ramblings. Still, that’s quite a few posts.

The thing about it is, I can’t actually remember writing all of those posts. It’s almost as if I was in some sort of stupor when I published them. Not all of them, of course, but I have stumbled across several that make me scratch my head in wonder. Are these really my words? Did I really say that?3d-clipart-question-mark-20.png

It’s not that I disagree with my past self, or that I’m embarrassed by anything I’ve written. At least so far I haven’t been. It’s just that it seems like the act of writing should leave more of an indelible mark. I ought to remember my words, as I remember the quilts I’ve made or the scrapbooks I’ve created.

Maybe words are just too common. Maybe it’s more like trying to remember meals I’ve cooked. Some stand out, for various reasons, but most just fade into the background to be forgotten. Maybe that’s how it is with words. Sometimes they stick, but other times they say their piece, only to be quickly forgotten.

I don’t mind, really. Sometimes it’s fun to see the suggested posts at the bottom of my screen and click on an old post. Sometimes it’s like seeing an old friend, but other times it feels brand new.