It was our second meeting back in the Firehouse; it’s great to be home. Eight veterans and a second-timer met tonight. We entertained seven readers and only ran seven minutes long. Not bad for a bunch of old friends.
We began with a discussion about writing tools. As in any endeavor, tools are helpful but not the defining factor in what you do. Would a carpenter allow a saw to make cuts without direction, or would a mechanic set his wrench to work on a vehicle as they take a coffee break? NO! Nor should a writer allow a software tool to change their writing style. Helpful is the keyword. Use every tool at your disposal to make sure you write well. But do not allow it to turn you into an automaton, a robot doing only what the machine directs. The old adage, Rules are Made to be Broken, may not be accurate in all cases, but sometimes it works, especially in writing.
I do break the rules (as evidenced by these posts.) Sometimes I look at my work and think, What idiot wrote this? I run it through an editing tool, whoops! I forgot two commas and a question mark; how’d I do that? Wait, there’s another issue, a semi-colon? Uses those things? What, again! No, I don’t want it to be a passive voice. But now I’m supposed to take out the comma I just put in. WHAT?
Okay, here’s what I want to do. The reader should pause after reading this, right?
You see what I mean. Computers and software get confused, just like the writer. But, when it directs you do something, you will read what you’ve written carefully and fix it. Right?
Moving on to the reading portion of the evening:
Seven of our writers had pieces to share with us. Because of the smaller group this evening, the time limit was expanded. Readers were given leeway to read extended excerpts of their work.
Your host will remind you how much time we can allot to a single piece at the next session. If we have an extended discussion, five or six minutes of reading should be enough to allow for constructive critique from the group.
Thank You.
Leading off our reading period, Peter Frickel introduced an interesting word. WABI SABI, I guess it’s technically two words but pronounced as a single expression. A worldview centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection is one definition. There are others, as there are in most translations of non-English words. WABI SABI is Japanese in origin, as well as I can determine. It is often described as things in nature that are imperfect, incomplete, or temporary. An Interesting Word. Peter read an excerpt from his Travels of Africa, where he begins his journey on a dusty road. He meets a Zulu man walking in the same direction. Fear, curiosity, respect, and kinship rise and decline in their time together. They leave each other’s company and continue their respective journeys. All is well.
A change in Tish McAuley’s employment has given her more time to write. She’s once again pounding the keys. Her piece last night took a lot of guts to share. Intuition is part of Tish’s makeup, it’s really more than that, but it’ll do for now. Knowing of an impending arrest, she warned her husband not to travel. As usual, he ignored her and traveled to Texas with their toddler daughter. Arrested in Texas, their daughter was put in the custody of the State. Tish had just a few hours to get her back before they took their little girl away. Such is the life of drug users. You go, girl!
By now, you’ve probably heard of GAIA. Bruce Haedrich introduced us some months ago. They have regular conversations, and Bruce shares them with us. This week they talked about the inhabitants living on GAIA. Oh, by the way, GAIA is our Mother Earth. She enjoys her inhabitants and talks lovingly about the Neanderthals and Denisovans people. They lived within their means used only what they needed to maintain Status Quo on the planet. But, she’s not real happy with the newcomers, the Homo Sapiens. They tend to think they’re more important than all the other inhabitants. They are jealous and vindictive. Responsible for the extinction of both Neanderthal and Denisovans races, they have killed off numerous other species. Raping GAIA, ripping the minerals from her core, they gut her. Poison spews from their machines to suffocate the plants and animals lucky enough to escape the weapons and tools of the Sapiens. What’s in our future, GAIA promises to tell us next time. Good work, Bruce.
Poetry is a writer making love with words. The subject can be anything, life, death, the wind, the sea, take your pick. Don Westerfield is a poet, among many other things. His words, even about his own mortality, carry the feeling of a person in love. My Time looks back at a life lived, enjoyed, realized, and sometimes even regretted. Twenty lines take us all through our lives. then will the trees sing written in lower case letters only is unique. It does not minimize the content but maximizes the fullness of life. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Don! Begin your tenth decade with a new poem.
Hailing from Baltimore, the city in which Edgar Allen Poe wrote many of his brilliant stories and poems, Richard Cope brought three poems to share with us this evening. He warned us, the subject matter might be macabre. Vagabond tells of an encounter with a Gypsy girl, tarot cards, and destiny. A chill rode my spine with its reading. Wheat and Chafe depicts the life of a woman enslaved by marriage to John Barleycorn. Her master must die in this haunting tale of hopelessness. A dark meeting with he who was really me is the dream produced by Absinthe. Dark, out of focus, a dream, true in substance haunts the mind. Images still float in my brain, Richard. Good Stuff!
Imagine losing your mind, your memory, your being, becoming an infant again. It can happen; just ask Peter McNally. Peter writes about suffering a stroke, two actually. His life is forever changed. He is no longer who he is; he’s back to square one. The remarkable story of a brain wiped clean; and the daunting task of recovery fills the pages of Peter’s story, Rewired. Most people would surrender, but not Peter. Today his is back! Welcome back; tell us how you did it.
Closing out the evening, Susan Haley read her poem, Resiliency. How does one face all the trials of today, tomorrow, and beyond? Susan knows. Life isn’t easy, but the resilient press on. A flood of emotion put into words fell upon my ears as Susan read. As always, Susu, keep on, keeping on.
The evening ended, as did the pouring rain outside. We ran a few minutes over; it saved us from a drenching as we raced to our vehicles. Our next meeting is on September 1, 6:30 PM, here at the Nokomis Firehouse. We hope you can join us, and until then, KEEP ON WRITING.
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