Finding that "thing"

I've always loved writing, taking pictures, and doing artsy-type projects.  When I was growing up, I had these friends across the street and we would spend all day playing with the "Invisible Man", going on missions and trying to defeat the bad guys - it was all pretend.  Silly as that seems now, my imagination grew at a steady rate.

I've been plagued with a heavy dose of practicality, too.  Which means while I loved made up stories, art, and taking pictures, those were never my dream career goals.  I went to college for business.  What's more practical than that?

Now in my mid-twenties, my imagination is trying to punch through my skull, screaming "I'm still in here!  I make you happy when you exercise me!  DO SOMETHING WITH ME!"  My practical side is fighting back, saying things like "there are so many people in the world doing photography, writing, arts & crafts, you'll never become good enough at anything because you'll get bored first.  Succeeding is hard.  Don't spend time and money with your imagination."

Well, that's my story anyway.

Lately, I've been jealous of my friend I follow on Instagram (insert huge hipster sigh here).  She takes great pictures and gets a ton of likes and followers.  My creative side is so green with envy.  I told my bff and she said "you can do that, just do it too!" but inside, I know that photography only interests me slightly.  I know how to take a good picture, and every once in awhile, I go on a photohunt, or take "artistic" pictures of things, but I hate editing photos and honestly, I get bored quickly.  I also get really frustrated when I can't get the shot I want.

So, what's my "thing" - that thing that I choose to get good at, to practice and develop over my life time so my imaginative side doesn't shrivel up and die?

Back in September, my boo and I went to the shore and ended up meeting a writer on the beach (I'd post a link back, but the post isn't worth it).  She told me if I wanted to write, to just do it.  Using her dreams as inspiration, she had published a lot of stories.

Lo and behold, last night, I had a dream I think I can actually produce a good story from.  As soon as I got up this morning, I started taking notes and doing research.  That has never happened before.  (I always thought the only novelists who did research were the non-fiction writers.)

Maybe writing is my thing.  If I keep in mind it's supposed to be fun and for me, perhaps that's the answer.  That's why I started blogging again in the first place.  Practice, practice, practice.  We shall see what emerges from these deep dark mid-twenties time.

Writing by Hand

I've been putting off writing this card for awhile now.  It's sitting on my coffee table; a response needs to be written to my old friend turned penpal.  I love writing to her, and getting responses.  How awesome is it when you get a handwritten card?

Problem is, when was the last time you hand wrote anything?

Do you know, they don't even really teach it in school anymore?  I read this interesting article about what learning handwriting means for children, and why it matters that its missing now from school.  Now, I've heard a lot about this subject and pretended to be able to argue why it matters.  Most of it is logical, you can't write, it's harder to read, it's harder to keep up in school.  English and grammer and proper form gets lost.  Doctors scripts are illegible...

But did you know?  It helps develop linear thinking!  And a bunch of other things (read the article for more details - I refuse to rehash it here)!

In school, did you ever notice how the cheerleaders all had that same way of writing?  And you could tell a boy's handwriting write off the bat?  It seemed there were a few different styles and you could match the person to the script immediately.  Funny how self expression comes out in writing, is it not?

I'm terrified for the future.  What are these kids learning?  How homogenous will our culture become?  If our technology suddenly fails, who will have the skills to survive?  What if future generations can't express themselves?

I'm well aware I'm crazy.  But it's something to think about.  And discuss.  And maybe do something about.

Bueller.    Bueller.       Bueller.      


Bueller.......

Dreams

Last night, my work computer was stolen, I lost my contact 3 times, and I watched a piece of food fall out of a fat lady's rolls.

All while I was sleeping.

Lately, my dreams have been crazy.  The writer lady I met at the beach told me she uses her dreams as inspiration.  If I use my dreams, here are the books I will write:

1. Children's Book:  a water bottle who gets to go with his owner to the Olympics.
2. Thriller/Mystery Book:  four friends go to a bar in a building everyday after work.  The bartender mysteriously changes one day.  That day, two cleaning ladies are found dead in the bathroom they were cleaning.  The next day, someone sitting at the bar is murdered.  Each day, someone else disappears and the friends are desperate to figure it out before one of them dies.
3. Fiction:  There's an older couple living in a huge mansion with servants.  They take you in and tell you their servants are always 1/2 working, and they think their house will fall apart soon because they stopped trying to make money and are far to generous to fire these workers who have families and are, quite frankly, too dumb and unskilled to work anywhere else.  You, being the ever problem-solving person you are, realize the money making potential of a huge vintage closet you find upstairs....
4. YA Fiction:  At night, the grocery store comes alive.  There is a guy who writes one word on every cereal box in the joint, you have to go through all of them to figure out what he's saying.  There is a group of skater kids who fly through the aisles.  There's a gang of kids who hangs out telling ghost stories, while a gaggle of girls start a "no boys' allowed" club. 

I have so many more, too.  

Would you read any of these stories?

Meeting a Writer

One of my lifelong dreams is to be a writer.  A storyteller.  Someone who writes books, from home, for a living.

And I haven't blogged (written) in months.

A few weeks ago, bf and I were at the shore, enjoying a few days of calm, work free days.  It was a quiet beach, the weather was perfect, and as we were walking back to our towel and umbrella set-up, the family in front of us asked if we'd take a picture of them.

Bf took the picture of the grandma, granddaughter, mother and uncle.  We ended up talking to them for awhile.  Trent talked to the uncle who was a garbage man from Binghampton, NY.  I ended up talking to whoever wasn't taking care of the granddaughter.  The grandma was a writer who called us a "beautiful couple".  She had just written a book about an interracial couple, and we reminded her of them.

I asked her if she did the whole write an outline and make sure the story follows the proper build up, climax, let down cycle thing they always taught us about in school.  Nope.  She just writes.  She has a dream, she knows it will make a great story, and then she writes it.  In a few months.

Her advice:  "just write.  Stop talking about it and thinking about it and just do it."

Who knew Nike's slogan applied so well to every single aspect of life?