I Wonder…
We are on spring break this week at my house and while we’ve been pretty busy experiencing things, one thing we’ve haven’t experienced much of are sun breaks during this very wet and cold vacation. Because Mister Soandso has limited vacation opportunities right now and this is a nutty-nutty time at work for me as well, we are spring breaking at home. Picture three children, none of whom agrees on how they want to spend their time combined with buckets of rain, hail, and more rain… and, well, please send this mama cocktails.
As you might imagine, we took the kids to see a movie one night. The movie was fine, although it would have been a lot “finer” at say $3 a person. It may have been “great” if it had been free. Anyhoo, there in the theater, waiting for the movie to start, I noticed how many things are a constant at movie theaters: worn seats, the sticky floor, and for my children, surround sound.
Like this:
There Is No Away
Tomorrow is garbage and recycling day around these parts which means I’ve been scurrying about, collecting all the recycling that arrives via the USPS and trips to varied shopping places. Every two weeks I trundle my big blue box on wheels out to my alley and hope. I hope that all those numbers encircled with an arrowed triangle get “reduced, reused, and recycled”. But I know that it is an inexact science, this hope of mine. It is better today than it once was, but it is still not perfect.
Because reducing, reusing and recycling is not enough to break chains.
As I scrubbed out the old peanut butter tub and thought about if I had another need for it in my house (buttons? maybe the Borax?) I automatically checked the bottom for the code. Of course it is a 1, after all, it is a “necked bottle”. Which led me to wonder why the heck isn’t everything made out of the magical stuff that 1s and 2s are? My guess is it comes down to money.
Recycling ain’t cheap folks.
Like this:
Oatmeal
I Am Oatmeal
The oatmeal, beige and wholesome,
Clings to the pot’s edge, the spoon, to her.
Resting the spoon across the pot’s rim,
She hears its pop and hiss.
The smooth surface hints at calm. It hides the raging heat and steam below.
Until too late, it explodes,
Flinging that scalding wholesomeness
Upwards, outwards, everywhere.
Pressure released, the surface is calm, but waiting.
Like this:
Do You Feel Lucky?
Bonus post!!! Who doesn’t like an internet meme? In the land of blogs and Twitter, a meme taking the cyber-world by storm is a fun version of “Tag!” although I think it is better to shout “Winner! Winner! Chicken Dinner!” myself.
Anyhoo, my dear friend and the kick-ass writer, Bill Cameron,* tagged me in The Lucky 7 Game which is the writer’s version of playing tag. And just like the game of tag you played as a whipper-snapper where you ran all about getting breathless and having a grand old time, I giggled to see I’d been tagged. And then, my critique partner, Jen Stayrook, tagged me too! Holy schnickies, I had better go buy a lottery ticket because I am feeling lucky, very lucky indeed.
*I love Bill’s latest book in a major fan-girl way and not just because he uses my name in it. I cannot wait until it’s published. 
The rules are simple:
If you’re tagged, you have to do the following:
- Go to page 7 or 77 in your current manuscript
- Go to line 7
- Copy down the next seven lines/sentences as they are – no cheating
- Tag 7 other authors
So, for the first ever time, I’m sharing with the whole freaking world (or at least the minuscule part of it reading this here blog) my WIP (work in progress). It is in its third draft which is to say it is much improved from its first draft and miles to go until it is ready for the whole freaking world to read the whole freaking thing. (I’m on my third cup of coffee, why do you ask?)
My novel, Bent Not Broken, is a historical young adult novel with three protagonists. Since I was tagged twice, I’m doing both options in step one – here are excerpts from page 7 and page 77.
On page 7, Anna is talking.
“When she sits back down beside me, I notice how tired and old she looks. A daily cocktail of booze, cigarettes, and pills has a way of wearing a body down faster than out. It’s a long and slow way of killing one’s self.
Excusing myself, I head into the bathroom. The fluorescent bulbs flicker and dance in the mirror. I run my tongue over my teeth and squint at my reflection. Nothing’s broken, only a bit loose and swollen. I’ll live.”
And on page 77, Vera says,
“He puts down the pencil. His slim arms raise and he caresses the broken keyboard like a lover. The piano was surely beautiful once, but now its keys look like the mouth of an apple-faced woman begging from a doorway. It sits there, legless. Its wood is scarred and battered. A broken shadow of itself, the piano balances on wooden boxes that once crated machine parts and vegetables. It too begs for our attention.”
Well, there ya go. Now to the less painful part of the process, sharing with you seven writers I think you should read more of…
Oh crumb-bum. How to choose, how to choose…. Oh I know, I’ll pick the last seven books/WIPs/short stories or blogs I’ve read.
Myra McEntire (Bill also tagged Myra – give us a second quote please Myra, please.)
Jen Stayrook (Also been tagged, give us page 77 of “Spring of Innocents” pretty please!)
Whew. How much fun is this? Well, for a writer who wants everybody to read, read, and read some more, LOTS.
Seriously, this is a fun way to get people reading more stuff that might not typically find it’s way on your proverbial book shelves. And also, a fun reason to get lucky. *wink*
What We Know About Sex, Discrimination and Violence
Over the past two weeks or so, several political and current event stories have piqued my interest. They are the stuff I am mulling these days. Bits of stories that grabbed ahold of me and won’t let go. And most of them relate to sex, discrimination and violence.
These stories stop me. Each has a line or a word that shakes me and makes me want to shake the people involved. Perhaps it is my complete “Libra-ness” showing, that idealist in me that wants us to treat one another as we want to be treated. That child within me that learned early that if I couldn’t say anything nice, to not say anything at all. That very humane part of me that wishes the world was more humane and that humans more easily lived humanely.
Like this:
I’m Not Funny…Very Much
A few weeks ago a friend of mine read a short story I was getting ready for submission. She said she was surprised that it wasn’t a comedy and her words made me pause for a moment. But she’s correct. I don’t write funny even though I call myself a comedian. Or it might be more truthful to say I don’t write funny very much.
I started out blogging the funny – searching for the humor in my life as a stay-at-home mom to three small children. It was how I coped with all the varied frustrations of my life. I looked for the funny and then shared it in hopes of making other folks laugh with me, as if having a whole group of folks shaking their heads at my kids’ antics would somehow get me through those moments with more grace.
Like this:
We See Mostly What We Look For
Ever convince yourself of something, only to find out you are wrong? I figure I am probably in good company here. I think it’s probably some sort of evolutionary coping skill that didn’t work out quite like we hoped for, like the appendix for example. Because much like how that little hanging bit off of your large intestine remains ignored until all hell is breaking loose in there, the difference between what we see and what we look for is typically of no merit. Until it is.
Missives posted on Mondays and Fridays. Unless the coffee and chocolate run out...
Copyright © Kristina Martin and Ten Minute Missive, 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kristina Martin and Ten Minute Missive with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
