Archive for the ‘writing’ Category
may musings
It’s about time to think about the month of May and what it means to me; I’m going back to the haiku form that I first used for March:
As your name suggests
Possibilities abound
Nothing definite.
Better, worse, the same?
Your warm optimism taunts
One way to find out.
This is part of my Monthly Musings series. Also be sure to check out Cheeky’s May reflections.
If you’d like to join, scribble something about May and send me a link.
—————
[tags]may, poetry, haiku[/tags]
seeds of truth: my growth fiction contest entry
For those of you who didn’t catch it in yesterday’s post and/or to save you a click, I’m posting my entry to The Moon Topples Growth Fiction Contest, you know the one that captured 4th place among the Author Awards?
The theme of the contest was growth, and the entry had to be less than 500 words. It was wonderful and inspiring to see the submissions go in so many different, innovative directions, so do check them out.
I particularly enjoyed:
Brilliantdonkey‘s entry #25: White Lies
Goodthomas’s entry #19: Thinking of Others
Heartinsanfrancisco‘s entry #22: The Scar
Reading the Signs‘ entry #9: Forget-Me-Not
Seamus Kearney‘s entry #4: Paolo and the Snakes
Sounds cheeseball, I know, but it really was just a privilege being part of a great collection of writing–the fact that my peers selected my piece among their favorites is quite humbling. I’m just getting my feet wet in the realm of fiction, so I’d appreciate any and all feedback.
And thanks again to Maht at The Moon Topples for organizing the contest!
Seeds of Truth
Anna cupped her growing belly as she leaned over the sink and stuck two fingers into the soil of the basil plant on the windowsill.
Still not time to water.
How many basil plants had she killed in her overanxious desire to see them big, leafy, and oh so healthy?
Not this time, she swore.
So instead of filling up the watering can, she peered out the open window past the basil and saw a bumblebee buzzing around her orchids. She used to be afraid of anything with stingers, but after much trial and error, she learned that if she let bumblebees do their thing, they wouldn’t even notice her. Her only job was to cultivate the orchid seeds and keep them alive for when a bumblebee’s turn would finally arrive.
“Unbelievable! Another car bomb,” yelled her husband from the next room.
She heard the unmistakable pop of the recliner being unreclined, but her eyes remained fixed on the furry black and yellow visitor.
Although she considered digging out her camera to capture the moment, she didn’t want to lose a single second of the golden sunlight catching the white of her orchids, which made her squint, and, accordingly, smile. And besides, just because she had accepted coexistence with Bernie, as she called the bumbler, it didn’t mean she trusted him.
So she shifted her weight onto her right foot, crossed her arms, and titled her head for a better angle.
“How can we continue to stay there when it’s obvious that they’re going to have to build their own country with their own rules?” asked her husband, tapping the remote control on his leg in time with Bernie’s fluttering wings. “Honey, come here and see this,” he said.
“Why don’t you come here and watch this instead?” she said without turning towards him.
After one last look at debris, he turned off the television, threw the remote on the couch, and joined his wife at the window, standing just behind her.
Over her shoulder, he watched the bumblebee kissing the orchid’s waiting, yellow lips.
“You know that the laws of aerodynamics say that a bumblebee can’t fly?” he whispered into his wife’s ear, careful not to disturb the romantic moment before him.
“Obviously no one told the bumblebee,” she whispered back, and they laughed.
As the bumblebee moved on, she noticed some weeds had shot up in the cement cracks of the walkway. She didn’t remember seeing even a hint of them yesterday.
“I’ll get those tomorrow,” her husband said, following her gaze. And then the tiny sprouts of basil on the windowsill caught his eye.
Perfect, he thought, envisioning a rich pesto in their future, and hugged his wife, wrapping his arms around his world.
—————
[tags]short fiction, short stories, moon topples growth fiction contest[/tags]
adoring april
Time for my April Monthly Musing seeing as we’re only a weekend away from the end of these lovely 30 days.
I love April, second only to October, my birth month. Makes perfect sense because if you mapped out the year, they’d be on opposite sides of the scales, balancing out the coldest of the cold and the warmest of the warm with their usually pleasant although often unpredictable temps.
And if I’m about anything, I’m about balance, being a Libra and all.
April is special, though, because it gives me a bit of warmth, a glimpse at the months to come, a feeling of being more alive and wanting to get out and feel the sunshine on my cheeks again–which is saying a lot for someone who really, really doesn’t enjoy baking in the sun. Needless to say, the SPF always comes first.
I didn’t use to get Spring Fever when I lived in the United States, and maybe that’s because where I lived, the weather never got spectacularly warm until Julyish, so what was the point anyway…but here…I have felt my entire mood shift in just a month.
I find myself getting up earlier and earlier, not being able to fall back asleep once I start thinking of getting up and out and walking with Luna and getting so warm that I have to take off even the lightest of jackets. I feel more energized, wanting to clean out all the must and dust of winter, smelling the freshness of flowers mixed with cleaning solutions as they waft out of the window and balcony door, which, thankfully, I have been leaving open all day now.
Not even sending off my American taxes in the middle of all this can spoil the mood.
April also marks the beginning of Spring Cleaning down at what we call “il giardino.”
It’d be safe to assume that P did the majority of the work as I was busy taking photos; bless his heart, he actually told me I could bring a book!
Here’s part of the area after many hours of P’s hard work:
And here are two of our new little friends:
Now go check out Cheeky’s thoughts on April, and then get out there and enjoy the final days of this special month.Don’t forget that you, too, can appreciate each month as it passes by recording your thoughts–and letting me know so I can link to you.
—————
[tags]april, gardens, calabria, lizards, snails[/tags]
ode to march
For my second Monthly Musings, it’s time to tackle big bad March.
I had originally planned on posting each Musing on the first of the month. Yes, I know March is nearly over, but since I made up this meme only for me, I can make up the rules as I go along too. Kinda like Calvinball, for those of you who remember my fascination with a little boy and his tiger.
Anyhoo, I’m most definitely not a poet, but this time, I decided on a haiku–thanks for the inspiration Bella and Guinness Girl!
Maybe I’ll do this for all the months now.
Or maybe I’ll change my mind come April.
I love power.
Me and My March
Flippant, fickle month
Warm, cold, wild, calm, cruel, and kind
My kindred spirit.
—————
[tags]march, poppies, flowers, haiku, poetry[/tags]
sunday scribblings: inspiration
Prompt #51: Inspiration
Oh the irony that I vaguely posted on this subject a mere two days ago, and here I am doomed blessed to revisit inspiration once more.
I’m not going to lie to you. The first thing that came to my mind when I read this prompt was the 1984 heart-warming ditty of Chicago, “You’re the Inspiration.” But since I have no specific memories attached to that song other than singing obscenely loudly (hardly unique to this tune), let’s move on.
Let’s talk about writing. Again.
Many writers refer to their projects as their babies, and I feel the same. If we’re lucky, the reward is a healthy, well-composed baby, and the path to get there is paved with inspiration–great when it’s around, torturous when it’s in hiding.
For me, inspiration comes when it comes, and there’s just no amount of pushing that’s going to convince the baby to come out until it’s ready. (I’d say “good and ready,” but this writer certainly cannot guarantee goodness the first time around.)
As far as I know, there’s no writing inspiration equivalent of a C-section just yet, and doesn’t sound like a particularly enticing idea anyway, but I do hear that walking around sometimes helps move labor along; with writing, I have to agree with this tactic as well.
Breathing fresh air and connecting with other living things–people, animals, or simply nature in general–often gives me that extra push I need to complete something, to break through a mental block, to inspire me to continue. And this isn’t limited to just writing. That load of laundry that’s beginning to move by itself? The floor that hasn’t been mopped since B.O. (before Obama)? The layer of dust that blurs my niece and nephew’s photographed faces?
It’s not a sure thing, but all of these chores have a much better chance of being tackled after I reintroduce myself to the outdoors.
Procrastination? Nah. Inspiration!
And there’s no better time than Spring to drink in all the inspiration I can stand.
—————
[tags]inspiration, writing, spring, primavera, flowers, sunday scribblings[/tags]
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
Calabria Guidebook
Recipes
