Seanachaí's News

 

On the last Sunday of each month, I compile "Seanachaí's News," a status report that assesses my work during the current month and also formulates my plans for the upcoming months. It will also give you a peek at my works in progress.

My Work During the Current Month

1. What does one write while cooped up in the back of a car? "Ruby June," of course.
2. Thinking, Planning, and Daydreaming takes a look at the intense thinking process I go through before I put anything on paper.
3. Words is a short piece that summarizes my going mad while trying to start a new book. Thanks, Matt, for identifying it as a palindromic phrasing!

My Plans for the Upcoming Months

1. After all of the whining and complaining this past month, I find myself working on a new book. "What's the title," you ask, "and what is it about?" So as not to jinx myself, I'll save the answer for another installment of "Seanachaí's News." Aren't I mean?

***

As always, I love to hear from you.

If you’re in the cyber-neighborhood, drop me a line.

In the meantime, keep writing, reading, and smiling.
It’s contagious.

 

Words

Words.

Your words. Other's words. Your words.

Words.

If you know what you're doing, don't let them destroy you. That's all I'm saying this week because all of those words are giving me a complex.

Thinking, Planning, and Daydreaming

How are you?

How am I? Well, if you follow me on Twitter or converse with me on Facebook, you know that I've been doing some pretty strange things lately (strange even for me).

Last Sunday and Monday I spent most of my time changing scenery. I moved from sitting at the desk to sitting under the desk. When that failed to impress me, I moved to the abstract rug in front of the bookshelf that holds the printer. After staring at all of those books shelved in a manner only a lunatic would understand, I abandoned my aching back and sat on my thinking couch for a while. 

Tuesday and Wednesday followed the same pattern except that I sat on the couch upside down, hoping the blood would rush to my brain and spark . . . something.

On Thursday I dragged one of those old leather arcade chairs in front of the sliding glass doors. I spent the entire afternoon  and evening staring at clouds and watching the chipmunk and rabbit frolic a little too closely to my garden.

Friday was spent in town observing people while I chauffeured my mother to her weekly must-be places. That evening I came home and listened to inspiring music while I began to make a list of things that interest me. The list was cut short when a storm halted all thought except unplugging all major appliances in the house and slamming all the windows closed.

On Saturday I read articles on existentialism, transcendentalism, and a bunch of other -isms that I've now forgotten. I talked with friends, family, and other writers about writing, life, and happiness.

He didn't move for 20 minutes. I didn't move for days.

So, why all the moving about, staring, daydreaming, reading, and chatting? I'm tackling the enormous task of searching for a new story idea. While I've probably looked like this little guy on the right (unmoving with a blank stare), I've been doing some serious thinking about plot, characterization, theme, and a bunch of other garbage. 

I also pulled out some articles written on the subject of finding a new idea to write about. Some were helpful; others were the ravings of snobs. I recall that one writer commented that if you cannot find a topic to write about, then you're barking up the wrong tree and should give up writing because you're not a writer and will never succeed. Wow, what a statement. I believe this individual failed to realize that preliminary writing involves thinking, planning, and daydreaming. I'm certainly not going to start something I can't finish and I'm not going to write myself into a corner without having first tested my ideas with some initial role-playing.

What are my plans for today? This writer is going to daydream a bit more and this afternoon I'm writing down the three solid story ideas that I've concocted this week after all of this vital wandering. Maybe I'll even come up with a few more.

Writers, I'm leaving you with this final thought: Without living, how can you know? Without knowing, how can you speak?

***

I want to send out a big "thank you" to all my friends who have listened to me whine and complain this week. Some of you have even thrown some great ideas and words of wisdom my way. I cannot thank you enough for that.

***

ANNOUNCEMENT

If you haven't visited the new Facebook group, History Writers, be sure to check it out. A friend of mine has created a new discussion group for readers, writers, and lovers of history and historical fiction. We're having a blast, and I hope you'll join us.

***

As always, I love to hear from you.

If you’re in the cyber-neighborhood, drop me a line.

In the meantime, keep writing, reading, and smiling.
It’s contagious.

"Ruby June"

After last month's "Mindy May," you probably saw this one coming.

OK, seriously, I got the idea for this short-short during my family's annual Memorial Day trip to visit my grandfather's grave. You all know him as "Ace" from my latest book, Haunted Voices from My Past: True Narratives of an Ohio Family. 

Anyway, we took an exit for a much-needed bathroom stop and as I waited for my mother's return, I noticed the area was infested with motels and the sky was littered with signs (most of them red). Add that with the dwindling month of May and some other strange sights along the way, and you've got . . .

"Ruby June" 

Ruby June crying best friends forever and writing soapy words on the window.

Ruby June gliding through the water and nabbed by a fish. Ruby June drowning in the sand, dirt caking under nails down to the quick. Man grilling hot dogs on a rotten porch close by. It sears your nostrils and creeps past the homemade flea market on the roadside. Glass beads on rawhide, two for a buck that’s killed in the ditch and bleeding in the ruby sky.

Ruby June dreaming of stretching out under the earth. If you listen, you can hear Ruby June in the maple tree that loses its leaves in the fall. Ruby June crying down the window, freezing in lights strung on pines. Cut down your own one at a time.

The sky is rosy orange but you can check in day or night. Ruby June pretending it feels good and right. Ruby June in the shadows, searching for the sheet. Ruby June, the two-legged cat, tiptoeing out of sight.

Ruby June hanging over the bridge and writing words in the snow. Hear the cocks crow. Red lights blinking on towers now. Ruby June and buildings lighting the night sky. King Avenue, a quarter of a mile. Next exit, take the road to the crumbling brick house and forget all you’ve learned. Ruby June getting the tune to sound right.

Ruby June smiling at the man with tattoos on his chest. Ruby June is bad, dropping on the floor. Make sure it’s dark. Hide the scars and cry really hard and no one will suspect. Ruby June howling at the moon.

Remember Ruby June in the field. Tracks in the wheat. Get beans in fast. Ruby June taking the dog out of the bun and feasting on relish.

Ruby June wanting a break, but blinking towers are back. Ruby June running from them coming down the drive. Drown in the river or spread arms wide and be the cat in the alley. Feet bleeding but they don’t care. Look the other way and lick stained white socks when it’s over.

Ruby June is the thought you get when blood stops flowing and you freeze to the floor. No animals now in the meadow or in the zoo. Ruby June is a month late and the drive-though is closed. Quiet now. Hands over my eyes and die.

Ruby June spread over a blanket, raining on the dirty wool and drowning in a red stream.

Give me back my doll, Ruby June. You’ve killed it.

***

You're probably shocked by the direction this piece took. So was I. I had no intention for it to be this dark. It just happened that way as I was writing in the back of a darkened car that was eating up the interstate. I often find that my work takes a different direction from the original plan. In this case it worked. Hopefully the next piece will be a little brighter.

Keep your chin up!

J.E.

***
 

ANNOUNCEMENT

Make sure you check out E. Michaels' latest addition to The Feel Good Series. The book is entitled Little Duck Gets Ready for School and includes a story to read and color, activities to complete, and games to play. 

Yeah, I know it's summer vacation, but now is the time to get your youngster used to the idea of the first day of school. I remember my grandfather (who was a bus driver) driving the bus down to our house during the summer vacation before my first day of school and letting me practice getting on and off the bus. It helped immensely. Hopefully this book will do the same for your child through an encouraging story with games and activities that have a school-based theme.

***

As always, I love to hear from you.

If you’re in the cyber-neighborhood, drop me a line.

In the meantime, keep writing, reading, and smiling.
It’s contagious.