Thursday, July 13, 2017

Telling / Showing

Found a great article - which I've promptly lost, but now have found and inserted link at the bottom of today's post - about telling and showing. Needed to remind myself in order to fully explain the concepts to a client. I'd never seen it explained this way - and for some unfathomable reason it seems to have struck a chord with me.

'Using a spatial metaphor, the showing mode is also called a narrative with “small distance,” presumably because readers get the impression that they are somehow near the events of the story, while the telling mode correspondingly evokes the impression of a “large distance” between readers and the events.'

Showing - nearer to the story. I like that. Means, to me, that I'm up front and personal with what's happening, staring right in the face of the antagonist and protagonist, and hanging by my fingernails to the edge as I 'breathe' what's happening right before my eyes.

Telling - ok. It's an ok process. But I'm pretty far away from what I'm reading. I can see what's going on, the broader spectrum I suppose, and I can see the characters. But I'm a hands-in-the-face personality. I really like to see the sweat pouring from the heroine's brow as the villain, spittle splattering my face as he cackles his glee at undoing good.

Ah - seems too easy. But I like the visual. I'm a visual writer/teacher, too. I like to close my eyes and see what's happening. I don't rely on my writing imagination; I rely on my visual imagination.

Well, I must be running along. Going to play with a friend and his characters.


Sunday, July 9, 2017

Being Human

I suppose I've been in a kind of dream world for the last year. Thyroid issues dragged me into a deep cellar and I didn't even know it. Finally had the blasted thing removed in April, but the dragging down continues.

I wish I could say I was better. I'm not in a good place at the moment. Not writing, per se, but I edit my old stories. In fact, I've decided that I should step into the 21st Century and self-publish. It's not the 'bad' word that it used to be. I even note that Writer's Digest and others have awards for self-published books, something that was anathema even only a year or two ago.

I've pulled My Sword Sings from it's hiding place, dusted it off, and edited the first few chapters. Then, I presented to my writer's group, Skyline (off again/on again member this past year). They liked it. Which should be no surprise to me. But it is. My dearest friend, Margaret, warned me that an author is the last (or the first) to think their writing sucks. With clarity and friends, we discover we are good writers. Thank goodness for friends.

Clarity is not part of my ethos at this time. My body does not accept the meds. Doc and I push onward, waiting till my body decides it really needs the replacement hormones. Blasted bodies.

Being here, at my keyboard, might mean there is hope. I hope so. Sorry for the long absence. Praying this is the beginning of restoration of hope and writing and joy. Same to you!


My goodness, it's been over a year.

Monday, June 6, 2016

Phone Call

Been a long time, dear friends. No excuses.

I pick up the phone, after procrastinating for a few days/months/years. You'll see.

Hello, ___ Condo Association.

Hello! My name is Sharron. I live in F-8. I want to file a formal complaint. Can I do it over the phone?

Of course.

Two years ago (I told you!), the landscapers cut down the roses behind my condo. They were beautiful, classic, and very old. A board member told me, 'Your neighbor said she couldn't take care of them any longer.' I spoke with the neighbor, she never gave them permission to cut them down. ( I felt tears welling/they were beautiful roses.) But never mind that, it's over and done with. Two months ago, (I told you), they cut down the lilac bush next to my condo. Besides the fact that it was a glorious lilac that people would sit in their cars and contemplate, they had not bloomed yet. Who cuts down a lilac before it blooms? 'Your landscapers,' I tell her, 'couldn't tell a rose from a hole in their heads.' Two days ago, (I'm not saying a word), they cut down my mums. Mums don't bloom till the fall. You don't cut down mums anyhow. Once in awhile, if you want them extra full, you trim them, but you never cut them down. So I want to lodge a complaint against the landscapers.

Of course. And I'll tell Todd and he'll come right over and see.

Thank you. There's more.

All right.

My dog poops in my house. Sadly, he punishes me when I leave and his pooping is his sign of rebelliousness. I am even pulling up the carpet and putting down wood floors so I can easily clean his little presents. If he surprises me, and poops while I'm walking him, I run back to my condo and get a bag and scrape up his business and put it in the proper trash container. If someone else walks him, and he leaves a present, they clean it up. You can ask all my neighbors. I grabbed my cane and walked to the hose at the back of the condo. I turned the corner and almost stepped in dog poop. There are about twenty little piles of it all behind my condo. It is not my dog. I told you about my dog. Please tell Todd about this, also.

Yes, I will and he'll come right over and see.

Thank you. Have a good day.


Now why on earth would Todd come over and look at poop. And why on earth did I start the poop conversation they way I did. My daughter said the woman on the other end must have thought I was smoking something, or so old and decrepit, I'd lost what marbles I had.

We laughed for hours after I told her about this phone call. I hope you enjoyed it, too. I am a nut. I know!