Epernay, France
Pouring champagne into a plastic bathroom cup on the nightstand…this weekend’s writing, at the French Open.
Happy Friday.
Here’s to finding a remote-controlled racecar on every public park bench this weekend.
Museum of Four in the Morning
I don’t usually post links to other people’s things. There’s enough of that going around. This is a beautiful exception: http://www.ted.com/talks/rives_a_museum_of_4_o_clock_in_the_morning.
Maybe it’s because I have a fondness for poets. Maybe this particular one ranks high on charisma and humor. Or maybe it’s because it hit me the way you wish everything in life would, always.
It’s a fourteen-minute TED Talk by Rives about collections, about searching, repetition, pattern, social media. It’s about coincidence. But for me, as a writer, it’s all, every second, about writing. It’s about having a weird dream of the lady you met at the super market that afternoon. Taking that dream and making it a story, and then taking that story with you back to the super market and trying to find the lady.
I promise not to bombard you with future links to other people’s things. A lot falls into my internet B bucket, but A–it just doesn’t happen often.
These Quick Bright Things
It’s spring, so seek them out.
Find them in your backyard.
Sketch them. Photograph them. Touch them with your fingertips. Squat down and stare.
Think about what they’re doing: what their wind feels like, how their sun shines.
They’re not friends. They won’t advance plot.
They’re details. Micro-environments. Codes.
Beautiful, awkward, leafy, and out of focus. Seemingly unimportant. Let them stand somewhere in your story.
Tethered by Letters
Yesterday, I accepted an editorial internship at the literary nonprofit journal Tethered by Letters. A lot of new and exciting things happening in their online forums and print journal.
“Talented. Eccentric. Passionate. That’s what you can expect from TBL’s international group of writers, editors, and publishers. Did we mention crazy? There’s a lot of that in there too. And for every moment of insanity, there are little rays of brilliance shining through. If it sounds amazing, it’s because it is…”
So look for me there.
Happy Mother’s Day to Mine.
Mom & I in Zeeland, Nederland
A few lines I found scratched in a notebook from college:
Vows to my Mother
I promise that by the time you get sick of waking up at 5am to put the twenty-five-pound turkey in the oven, I will find it endearing.
I promise to help my brother and sister in your absence, to be there in case of failed marriages or credit card debt.
I promise to retain a minimum of 27% of what you’ve taught me.
I promise to eat well and be kind to strangers, especially old ones.
For the interesting history of Mother’s Day, read this article by National Geographic.
Happy Friday before Mothers’ Day
Alright, so I don’t technically have a child. Yet. But, one has been growing in my uterus for the last 30 weeks; I’m going to count it. My presents this very first year include:
1. Two men’s formal-wear vests from my parents
2. Two cans of root beer from my husband
Click here for a story about motherhood before I knew much at all about it: http://www.versewisconsin.org/Issue112/poems/stroikStocke.html.
Pregnant Writer’s Advantage #1: A Thorough Cleaning of Your Belly Button
When there are other things on your mind–things other than writing, that is–you can either clear them out or let them consume you. Do some housekeeping (metaphorically), and get rid of them. Or do some housekeeping (literally), and let it take up your whole day. I’m treating pregnancy as a great excuse to do the former, though it would be much easier now to commence a thorough cleaning of my outie. I’ll spare us all the photo.
Happy Birthday to my dad, Soren Kierkegaard, and my sister’s dog.
Probably in that order.
Unabridged Adventure Series Part 7: The Things We Circle
I’ll admit, I used to be a circler. An underliner. A writer in margins. Until the day I wasn’t. In this two-thousand-three-hundred-and-fifty-six-page dictionary, someone circled page 1097. No other comments. No rabbit ears. No bookmarks. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind pencil or pen or inserts or coffee stains in books. Scratchings show use. Things you leave behind mean you were there. They make for interesting blog posts. But really, you can only scratch where there’s an itch: no coaster for your coffee, for instance.
Now I, occasionally, stumble across some arrogant aside written by College Christine, and my hope is that Old (Crotchety) Christine will find fewer but perhaps more meaningful quotations authored by Middle-Aged Christine. Or at least something mildly funny.
christine PS stocke 