The question this week is whether life exists outside of writing. For me, the better question is, does writing exist outside of life? Without life experiences, is there anything upon which to base a short story, novella, or novel? I doubt it. Even a splendid imagination needs some comparison in order to work. If you only know one place or one type of person, it would be much harder to develop a well-rounded story line.
How does my life contribute to writing?
- Jack and I have traveled all over the country so I can draw on what various states look like. Even a WIP that takes place in Europe is made better by our having been there.
- We have a small family, but fortunately, they are all nutty as fruit cakes, and I often draw off them to provide story lines and character definition.
- In our travels but even more by our living in a variety of places—from
cities like San Francisco and Chicago to small places like Appleton, WI and Greenwood, SC—we’ve met and made friends with people from all walks of life, helping me to give depths to my stories and characters. - I’ve worked in a lot of places and in a lot of different career paths, so my imagination has an easy time making comparisons to other lines of work as well.
Does this all mean that someone who’s lived in one place all their lives without a great deal of change can’t write a great book? Gosh no. In fact, maybe it means I don’t have a good imagination and need all that outside stimuli to help me write. It’s all made life interesting, and I hope it’s helped me write better and deeper stories.
Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.
Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!
Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!
There was a time in my life where I wore a dress or skirt every day and dressed up for going to the theater or out to dinner. When Jack was at VMI, we attended five formal events a year. And I loved it. Then I got real.
town either. The last time I suggested he wear a tie to an event he looked at me as though I had two heads.
wide as the church aisle, all satin and with beads and sparkly doodads. And I’d have ten bridesmaids and a groom in a tux, and the church would be full of friends and family. Wow! Cinderella would have been envious.
around to his way of thinking and each year we dated my wedding dreams became more conservative.
at Jack’s parents’ house. We went camping for our honeymoon. The whole wedding, pictures and all, cost less than $500. And it couldn’t have been more perfect. For us.
I truly admire people who garden. They make the world a brighter place, a happier place. I could sit for hours surrounded by green plants and brilliant blooms…and talk to the person digging in the ground. But ask me to dig and pull weeds and plop a tiny seedling into rich loam? I’d destroy the whole setting in a matter of hours. I can’t tell a weed from a begonia. I don’t know which roots go shallow and which go deep. I can’t differentiate between a creeper and a tall plant that needs support. In short, I’m hopeless in a garden. Please don’t ask me to help in any way.
made the comment to my mom and aunt that I wondered how one particular yard had such beautiful, big blooms, and a woman I hadn’t seen standing there said, “It takes a lot of work.” I imagine so!
I absolutely, positively, without question believe in TRUE LOVE. I believe because I’ve seen what it looks like and what it doesn’t look like. I’ve known some fine, wonderful women who have not won in love. Here are four ways I know true love exists.
we always talked about it and decided which solution best fit us as a team. He moved to Idaho because I had a job opportunity. I gave up my work in order to follow him while he succeeded at consulting. When I had such horrid back problems I could barely stand to get out of bed, Jack got up with me at butt-ugly o’clock and walked around the parking area until I could function, then he faced a full day’s work. He never complained. We’ve always accommodated each other for the good of the team and for love. NOT true love thinks of themselves and not the other person.
surprise ice cream sandwich from Sonic or a hot cup of coffee. 😉 Feeling cherished means giving the other person what they need when they need it. For me that includes hearing “I love you,” too, but it goes far beyond that. NOT true love might say the words, might give the big gifts, but doesn’t show the meaning beyond them.
ever. He is of the opinion that when a man buys a woman flowers he’s feeling guilty about something. And he doesn’t buy perfume or pretty trinkets, though at times he has gifted me with some of my favorite earrings. No, my hubby is a practical gift giver.
my KitchenAid mixer and kitchen tools. He also learned what I do like in pocketbooks, in spite of the briefcase mix-ups, and he’s discovered that jewelry doesn’t have to be expensive for me to love it. One year when finances were particularly tight he wrapped a bag of miniature Baby Ruth candy bars, and it thrilled me. When the right sentiment is behind it, any gift can be wonderful.
given me gifts that can’t be measured in terms of money or usability: his name, his heart, and time to share his life.
took shots for it. Once hubby and I started driving truck and roaming all over the U.S., I lost my allergies. Hubby, on the other hand, is allergic to the world of the American South-Southeast.
anywhere near Virginia pollen, plants and trees, and he about dies. This is the reason we retired in the Northwest and not in the home of my heart, the Southeast.
I have a journal book. In fact, over the years I’ve spent a bit of money on many books for journaling/brain storming/idea keeping. One year I bought a pen with a small recorder in it so I could quickly record ideas as I was driving or just out of the house. Did I ever use it? No. I probably stuck it in my purse and then forgot it when I transferred to another purse. Lord only knows how many great ideas for best-selling books I’ve lost because I didn’t grab that pen, press the magic button and say, “falling leaf, red” or “blue Corvette, hair blowing in wind, girl named Sally Jean Johnson.”
imaginations come to mind while watching the stars cross the heavens, will be interesting reading someday. And maybe inspire that best-selling book after all.
weren’t a pantser I’d be better at practicing stuff.
of driving wherever the spirit takes me. And like my driving, if I didn’t write by the seat of my pants, I wouldn’t write at all. Being a pantser is for better or worse, just like my marriage.
Are you married to your APPs? If so, you might be wasting a good bit of time. I wouldn’t say I’m tied to my APPs—and I don’t have very many of them—but I do have an on-again-off-again love affair with a few of them.
wasters. I got along for the vast majority of my life without having weather, Google, Solitaire, etc. at my fingertips and led a very happy life. I think I could have gone the rest of my life without them. But since I do have them… Pardon me while I go play a game of Solitaire.