It has been more difficult than I anticipated to return to writing online.
For over a year, my stream of consciousness has bubbled over neatly clipped stacks of white lined sheets titled with the date, section, chapter, page, then categorized and colour-coded with liquid highlighters. This is how I journal/write.
I can Venn Diagram my ideas on the paper and link connections I’ve never tried to write out before. My thoughts flowchart into numbered lists and capital letters. It’s my short-term memory keeper, last ditch calendar, my notes to my future self.
All this changed my process. Again.
I am a plotter/planner and a pantser in real life. I love, no … yearn – for the structure of frameworks, but only so I can blow out the walls. They were only guidelines. Get to know them so you can break them.
My planner Self created intricate spreadsheets to remind me of good writing advice I’d learned. I could get myself out of almost any writer’s block and loved daily prompts.
This is a beautifully depicted walk through what we “creatives” see: Outline Your Screenplay ~ Adam Skelter
Eventually, I have to have my freedom. If it even has a whiff of routine, I will balk and conveniently forget my promises to complete this book. Give me liberty or give me death, which will dissolve into wails of “You’re not the boss of me!” when I have to.
But that fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pantsers writer in me… She is a much harder to manage. You can’t pin her into a shape because she is nothing but a mist. She’s there. Then she slips through the cracks, in and out, of ideas. Faded. She feels her way around the page. Having left her perfectionist self back in high school (when she had to toss and restart any page with a mistake) she has learned to look for the patterns and the colours. They repeat to take me through learning the best way I learn: Tell me what you are going to tell me, show me, let me do, then tell me again. And let me read it, then write it and update it continuously.
That is what creativity is. It’s (not just) the ability to spontaneously create, but to pull dots from here and there to give form to something fresh.
The pandemic gave me a unique opportunity to search out Catholic information online to build my own faith.
When has anyone interviewed a scientist who, when asked, admits to leaking mad-made viruses into the L4 Cache (say what?).
Gratitude: 5th floor balcony pool all weekend. Instead of feeling like I am missing out, I lean over to the ladies – my two rescue dogs – as I walk them and say “It’s not our days to swim.”
We are on duty. It is our turn to nourish to spiritual health. It is realizing that you would not change places with them. That’s how sure you are of the moment.
The rich local flavours as well as samplings from around the world. The Vatican, Archdiocese of Toronto, my own parish and a few more in town. Sure, I’ve been to a Catholic church! I have! Basement youth, Midnight mass, weddings and funerals, at the request of friends.
Long reads are like lazy Saturday morning stretches at the kitchen table with the paper and a good, steaming mug of coffee within reach.
That one spark of light – D.R.I.V.E.N. by Catholic Family Services.
It does not matter which side of the rage you are on, I want no part of that dance.
It’s like having an ear for anger.
Is your bible well loved?
I felt as if I would fall off the sharp edge we call straight and narrow.
“Is the ink dry on their name?” she asked.
The clv held their breath in hopes of a reprieve. She turned to them and said:
“What do you have to say in your defence?”
It was 11 minutes to 12; more than enough time for the ink splatter to dry.
That wasn’t a rabbit Alice saw; it was a fox.
I weaned myself off mainstream cable, slowly.
“You are addicted to the internet” he sneered.