How does one really know what to edit out or keep in a manuscript? Readers tell you different things based upon their personal tastes and, of course, those are the readers I want to reach. This editing thing is so frustrating…
They went into their day not knowing they would return a different person than they had been that morning. We were also changed…
Yesterday there was a shooting, a killing, murders of children at a neighboring school. Marysville-Pilchuck High had been attacked by one of its own, a teen who couldn’t find another way to cope. As parents, we worried about how our young teens would handle the shooting of peers in a place where violent crime is very low. Friends and family contacted us, knowing the stress and fear it must be causing our kids, but sadly, they were ok.
I say “sadly” because I realize that this generation sees violence in the press daily, marketed to them in movies and video games as money-making tools, yet drive-by shootings, child abductions, and terrorist attacks still alarm our generation. We were used to Saturday morning cartoons, playing ball in the street, and walking to school. But for our children, violence has become commonplace and “sadly” they have become desensitized. Our children are warm-hearted and very caring kids, but they did not seem to identify with the situation. Yes, the shooting bothered them and it was the talk of the school, probably will be for a while, but they were detached – my husband and I were not.
We cried out of sympathy and respect for the distressed parents who were enduring panic, fear, and shock of not knowing if your child was dead or if he/she was the shooter. We could not imagine having to go to the hospital and having to inspect the bodies of two unidentifiable girls in critical condition to see if she was your daughter – 20 parents went to the hospital in an attempt to identify these girls with disfigured faces due to the gunshot wounds, all hoping she wasn’t theirs. We worried about the teachers, staff (especially the cafeteria worker to stopped the shooter), and the trauma they would suffer for the rest of their lives.
I feel helpless and search for answers or a cure to resolve the issues that empowered the shooter in the first place. I have none, for these parents can no longer make their children feel secure, able to trust friends or family, or teach them how to identify the “boogie man”.
All was taken away yesterday, they came home different from how they had left that morning.
Our hearts and condolences go out to all those touched by this tragic event…
Feels like it is going to be a lonnnng week. But wait, it’s Friday…
Ever had days when you learn that your hard work is not going to lead down the path the way you had planned? I know you have. We all have. It can be exhausting to learn that the hard work is not over, not even easing up. But I am a firm believer of learning from mistakes, mistakes make us wiser and I am very, very wise. I don’t quit, I just find another path to get to where I want to be. “Water flows many directions down a river, but it always gets to the bottom,” I said that. I am very wise, I’ve made a lot of mistakes.
Detours in our plans can be thrilling, scary, and better than ever imagined. But sometimes, they just piss me off. I am really ready for life to be easier, maybe I set my standards to high?
Still, feeling disappointment is normal. Getting angry is normal. Getting over it and moving on, normal. Guess this normal life normally gets frustrating. I know this too will pass, it always does. I know someday things will work themselves out.
How is it that they always seem to work themselves out? Things get worked out through trials and tribulations, we learn from the experience. If life were easy we would not grow “wiser and bolder”. Life is funny that way.
What paths unplanned led you to a better place than you ever planned on?
Do you ever just want to crap out those bad writing ideas that are blocking your creative process and let the good ones get flowing again? Sadly, there is no enema for that. My mom, a nurse, swore enemas took care of everything. Mom was wrong. So, when I am stuck between first person, third person, this scene or that, I walk away. I need to regroup. I do not regroup with prune juice and Metamucil shaken with a splash of Milk of Magnesia. No, sometimes my “regrouping” comes at a price to our furniture, walls or whatever can take on paint. I painted our kitchen cabinets. Well, not painted them so much as I painted on them. I even painted a huge wall mural in the living room. It’s not that I get writers block often, just sometimes. Sometimes, I am unable to relate to my characters for a moment. It’s as if I disconnect, but come back to loving them later. Does this happen to you? How do you handle writer’s block?