Writing Exercise

I just returned from a small writer's workshop/retreat at the ocean. It was a time to recharge the creative batteries and learn new things about the craft. In one session, the instructor said she was going to give us (me and at least a dozen other people) a single word, and then we were to write about it for twenty minutes. I'm not sure exactly what I expected, but the word turned out to be "Conan." Conan? What was I supposed to do with that? At first all that came to mind were images of Arnold Schwarzenegger as the famous barbarian. Then another possibility occurred to me. Here's part of what I wrote:

Conan. That's what the want-ad said. I needed a job, badly, and I was past the point of being too picky. So, I read on. Wanted: trustworthy person to job-share a position serving as nanny to 3 angelic children. Hours flexible. Benefits negotiable. Experience with preschoolers required. "Oh, I get it. Conan means co-nanny." ... I flipped open my phone and made the call. "After all, what's the worst that could happen?" I thought, trying to banish visions of Sesame-Street-gone-bad from my head.

It was a fun exercise with surprising results. Even though we all started with the same, very-specific word, we each came up with something completely different. No two interpretations were at all alike. Who would have thought Conan could be so inspirational?

The Many Moods of the Mountain

My husband and I have lived for many years with a beautiful view of Mt. Rainier out our windows. Although we have gotten used to it, we never tire of taking another look. "The mountain," as everyone living in this area calls it, is always impressive (when the rain stops long enough for us to see it). But it rarely looks the same twice. It's surprisingly versatile in its costume: sporting a new coat of fresh snow or stripped down to the bare essentials of rock and glacier; hat-less or wearing that strange stack of pancake clouds on its head; silhouetted against a sunrise or reflecting the alpenglow of a pink sunset; standing out stark against a deep, blue sky or peeking through a misty shroud. Sometimes the elements combine for more unusual effects. Occasionally, when conditions are just right at dawn, the sun projects the inverted shadow of the mountain against the underside of the clouds above. Spectacular. At other times, evening fog settles into the valley in front of the mountain creating the illusion of a lovely lake (as above). The show doesn't last long, so we keep our cameras handy. Even after all these years, I still marvel at the mountain's ever-changing beauty.

The Enigma of Poetry

Poetry is a great mystery to me. It's one of those things that I think I should be interested in more than I actually am interested. I wish I could say I'm deeply moved by it (or at least that I enjoy it). Yet on those infrequent occasions that I read poetry, it tends to bore me. And on the still more infrequent occasions that I try to write any myself, it comes out comical, like a limerick, instead of being profound or insightful or even serious. Example:

A Modest Man's Lament

When I am gone, my fellow man
With charity will cry
That such a good man, such a saint, did not deserve to die.

The eulogy will be quite grand.
Of this I have no doubt.
Every fault will be forgot, each virtue will sing out.

I think what gives me greatest pain,
In these my final days,
Is knowing that I’ll not be there to listen to the praise.

My friends will mourn me and lament.
No foe will dare oppose.
And secretly they’ll all be glad it’s me, not them, that goes.



I'm sure this must indicate some major character flaw (or intellectual weakness at the very least), but I will leave that analysis to someone with greater discernment than I possess.

Old Dog Learns New Tricks

We've all heard the saying, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Baloney! Although I may not be exactly old, I'm undeniably middle-aged. And I think I've learned more in the last few years than during almost any other period of my life. For example, I've learned a tremendous amount about the art of writing - something I had no formal training in before. I've discovered what's involved in trying to get a book published (agents, editors, query letters, literary conferences, etc.). I decided to study Italian after a recent trip to Venice. Perhaps most challenging of all, however, I've tackled some of the mysteries of the electronic age: mastering e-mail and my laptop, starting a blog, and constructing a soon-to-be-launched website. Those of us who didn't grow up with these technologies are at a distinct disadvantage, I admit. But with enough time, determination, and a little patience from the younger generation, we can march into the 21st century with our heads held high (which is much more dignified than being dragged, kicking and screaming, after all). "Is it worth the extra trouble and effort?" you may ask. Yes, it's exciting to learn new things and, even if nothing else comes of it, we're keeping brain cells alive! That's pretty important for old dogs.

What's in a Name?

Why Heatheridge House? The name has a long history for me. "Heather Ridge" was the apartment complex in Kent, Washington that my husband and I moved into when we were first married. The place was nothing that special, but I loved the name. I thought, if I lived in England where houses and estates have names rather than addresses, that's what I would call my home. Years later, when I applied for a business license and had to pick a name to go with it, I finally got my chance to use it: "Heather Ridge Arts." Fast forward a few years more to when I became serious about writing. While working on my first novel, "The Darcys of Pemberley" (a sequel to Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice"), I took delight in naming everything along the way - people and places too. So, when the Bingleys moved to a new estate in Staffordshire, I called it Heatheridge House. I will probably never have a chance to live in England myself, but my imagination spends a lot of time there - often in an old stone manor happily situated on a hill overlooking woods and water.