Turning the Page

The past few days have been interesting to say the least. BJ and I have begun serious work on the travel book. She’s been processing photos while I deal with the text portion, etc. Her work seems to be progressing much faster than mine.

For the last several months, what with being on the road and then getting re-established here in Kalispell, I haven’t done interviews or book reviews for blogs or Amazon, either. I haven’t felt that I’d gotten settled enough yet to take on either type of activity.

A couple of days ago, though, I got an email from one of the publishers that I review for. It asked me if I’d please do reviews on their new line of ebooks. They’ve decided to put some of their books into ebook format first. Later, the manuscripts will go into print form.

About the same hour of the day, I received another email from the other publisher that I review for, which asked me to take at least one of their coming releases for review, and gave me all the pertinent data on the offerings.

While all of this is going on, I have my hands full with getting a new travel blog put together—it’s going to be awesome—as I take care of poetry book manuscripts, travel book work, keeping up with blogs, and the rest of the daily activity.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I merely surprised that so much could come together so fast and at the same time.

I know I will do a couple of reviews. I’m already thinking of whose interviews I’d like to do and how I will approach them. It sounds like a lot, but in truth, most of my real “work” of writing is that travel book which takes far more thought and consideration.

I know others among the ICL crowd and those of my connections and friends on FB, LinkedIn, and other social networks who have far more on their plates than I do. And most of them have families. Just because I’m thinking on things doesn’t mean that meaningful progress has been made toward them.

Oh, yeah, I was also approached by another writer who wanted to send clients my way if I had room for them. Someone up there must be trying to tell me something. Either that, or… oh, we don’t want to go there.

I have several pieces still to go out in the next couple of weeks. I’m keeping my fingers crossed on those. Hey, a girl can dream. Besides, rejection is good for the writer’s soul. At least I keep telling myself that.

That’s my update, gang. BJ and I have been taking small tours in the state to use for that new blog I was talking about. That camera of hers will be worn out before we know it. It’s amazing what you can see on the road at 6 am.

Take care, all. Until later,

Claudsy

Kalispell, Comparisons, and Creating Books

Any time you’re away from a place for an extended period of time, you take a good hard look at it when you return.

Sister Jo and I returned to Kalispell Monday. Given my poor eyesight, it generally takes me a bit longer to pick up on changes along city streets. This time I didn’t have any difficulty spotting some of the changes.

Our list of notations began before we arrived in Kalispell. They started along the I-90 from the Idaho state line. The high north-country had moved from winter’s grip into its other season—construction.

By the time we entered Kalispell we were mentally prepared for other observations to add to our list of changes.

A car dealership gone from one street, a new building going up on another, the new highway bypass opened up with the requisite stoplight all made for immediate notation. Work begun on the perimeter of the apartment complex parking lot in December had begun again this past week. Winter hiatus was finished evidently.

There were small signs of change everywhere.

One of the things we had to get accustomed to on the road was the fact that change happens quickly, though some flavors linger over distance. We recognized the fact that we constantly remembered certain aspects of the places we left behind. It takes little to recall a place that has affected us in some way. The result is an automatic comparison to where we are now and an evaluation of which is better and why.

The funny part is that even little kids do this “I remember when… and it was… I think I liked it better then.”

So it has been for us throughout our trip. When we returned to Montana, we got to do it again but with many more comparisons. We had all of that knowledge from our previous life here and all that we’d experienced while on the road. I’ve noticed that it makes for a heady combination.

How does one compare the Redwoods with Glacier Park? Which is better—a beach or lakeside? Is there a better?

You see the difficulty, I’m sure. I find myself trying to decide where we found the best food, or whether the people here are as friendly and helpful as those we found in Tennessee, or if I’ll be able to find pine needles here as long as the ones I found in Idaho to make my pine-needle baskets.

On top of all that is the knowledge that we get to travel this mental road every day we work on our book. I have this virtual picture of us sitting around our work area doing an imitation of “This Is Your Life” and arguing about the virtues of each place and how it affected us and why or just what happened at that convenience store we patronized at that last little beach town along the Oregon coast.

I’ve already begun the comparisons. In the end that is part of this process that we must go through in order to put together our thoughts for our book. They are necessary for the writing and the layout design.

I wonder, though, if we all don’t continually write our lives’ books from those small, silent comparisons of things seen, conversations voiced, and people known. Are we, when all is said and done, merely a compilation of comparisons from our years of life?

I know that memoirs are something we all have. The question is—do they make us what we are? You tell me.

Until later,

Claudsy

Another Departure Looms

Yes, we're leaving first thing in the morning for parts north. We've been dawdling in Central California. Our friends here may miss us after we leave, but we’ll certainly miss them more. They’ve spoiled us rotten. The kids (read that as one dot and two exotic birds) have kept us entertained each day. And we’ve had wondrous weather while we were here that we could not fail to miss our resting time here.

My writer friend, Mikki, and I have had the opportunity to talk writing, and projects, and gripe about all those things that writers feel the need to vent about. It’s been marvelous. I don’t get the chance to do that face to face normally. It’s gonna hurt, giving that up.

After our opportunities to roam beaches, watch elephant seals, and tour local wineries, we have plenty of material for whatever projects we wish in future. We've sampled local produce from the open air market, enjoyed meals at the local eateries, and generally luxuriated in California's Central Coast environs. That's not bad for an otherwise stormy April in the rest of the country.

Were we privileged? You betcha, and we don't feel one whit of guilt over it, either. Oh, yeah, we've enjoyed ourselves very well, thank you very much.

So, today we’ll get the last of our laundry done, repack the car toward evening, get ice in the cooler tonight, get final showers taken, and God willing, get my hair cut. Before bed, we have to get the car gassed up as well. We’ll pull out first thing in the morning, coffee in hand, and good-byes on our lips.

We’ll try to remain smiling, but it will be hard. We’re part of their herd now, according to Dylan, their Corgi. He believes we belong here, not out wandering the highways in search of new sights and interests. And we feel the same way about Mikki and Richard.

Once we get on the road, though, and point the car north, we’ll do Monterrey first, where we hope to do the aquarium during our stop. Neither of us has seen it. Now’s our chance.

From there we’ll move on to the Redwoods where we plan to camp for a couple of days at the least. Of course, assuming the primal urge doesn't force us to remain longer so that we can soak up all that serenity, we’ll try to keep it down to a couple of days. I’ve camped there once before, back in the nineties¸ and know the spell with which the forest blankets the area.

We’re not putting an itinerary on the calendar this time in any form. When we feel like stopping, we will. When we need to move on, we will. Much of our return will depend on how we feel on any given day. We’re old enough now to allow ourselves that luxury.

So now you know why we’re taking our time going back. We want to spend a few hours in San Francisco, too. We’re both looking forward to that.

The Oregon coast calls to us along Highway 1, the scenic highway. Sunsets along there and the lighthouses there make for great photo ops. That drive also allows for great photos.

In the Tacoma area we’ll take the time to see Jo’s kids and family for a couple of days before heading east along I­-90. We’ll see her oldest son in Central Washington during that trek. We won’t be able to get into an apartment until the middle of the month of May, so there’s no real hurry. It’s not snowing here at the moment. It is up there.

And there you have the situation with us. We’ve had our ups and downs, mostly with the weather and the continuing rising costs of gasoline and, consequently, everything else. We just didn’t budget for that kind of rise in costs.

Yet, when we look back, we managed to huge amounts of material and experience  in 20 states in five months, and much of that while stationary in only a few of them. That’s not a bad track record, don’t you think? The really hard part will come after we re-establish ourselves in Kalispell. Jo gets to put in months of work in PhotoShop while I work on the book and the articles for magazine submission. If luck and writing perseverance prevail, those articles will help us put money back in the savings account. So, keep those fingers crossed.

I can’t promise when I’ll get to post on anything again after today, so you’ll just all have to keep an eye peeled for the slightest blip on your radar screens. I’ll try to pop in again before getting back to Kalispell.Take care and God bless.

Claudsy

A Sighing Do-over

In that pre-dawn hour, just after the early morning bathroom run and crawling back into bed, comes a time when Muse takes her dipper of brilliance and sprinkles profound and inspired thoughts through the near-slumbering mind. The mind pursues these wisps of creative wonder along pathways destined to come to naught.  Sleep again overtakes thought, and morning finds only hints of earlier mental journeys.

Why do so many of us never learn from our frustration? Why can’t we allow ourselves to get out of bed and use that hour to write down all of those magnificent ideas and ponderings? It’s not as if we’re going to forget that we had them; we only forget what “they” were about.

This morning I had half an essay written in my head—a nice lyrical piece on this subject. When I woke, it was all gone, except for the initial idea for the piece. Frustration, directed at myself, ensued.

Dr. Wayne Dyer postulates that when a person wakes for unknown reasons early in the morning, it is due to higher powers speaking to the sleeper. Dr. Dyer never identifies the higher power but allows the individual to make a personal interpretation of the term. He goes on to say that the best and most inspired writing, painting, or whatever creative outlet the person uses, comes during that time just after the pre-dawn wake-up call.

I must agree with him, for that is when my mind is the most free from daily concerns, sees the world in the least cluttered way, and has the most fluid writing ability. I agree and would like to accommodate that axiom of taking that free-thought time for writing.

The problem is that sleep tempts me too well. There is always a dream to finish so that I have an ending to that particular storyline. Or, I didn’t get into bed until the wee hours of the night and haven’t had enough sleep to keep me awake to do more than make that bathroom run.

Sleep and its many guises will become an issue again after tonight. BJ and I are beginning the last leg of our tour just after dawn tomorrow. Neither of us sleeps well nor long while on the road. We’ve learned all about that already.

There will be many very early mornings in the coming month, some far earlier than we’d wish. My wish is that with all the new sights and adventures, inspiration will become more delegated to regular working hours and not to those frequently interrupted ones devoted to sleep. There are times when only a sigh and a do-over will suffice.

One question haunts me sometimes. I wonder how many Pulitzers, Nobel’s, Oscars, etc. have been left at Muse’s doorstep because the sleeper couldn’t be bothered to write down the words on the calling card?

Until later,

Claudsy

Finding Inspiration Wherever You Are

During our trip Sister Jo and I have learned many things and had good and not so good experiences. The interesting aspect of every day so far is that no matter where we've been there has been more than enough to use as inspiration.

The most profound understanding that I've come to is that regardless of where one is inspiration abounds. Whether one seeks it out or not, it arrives on silent feet to rattle one's sensibilities and leave reflection in its wake.

Inspiration comes in many guises and waits only for recognition.

Types of Inspiration

According to the dictionary there are seven different definitions of "inspiration."  Like all concepts, inspiration can only be defined by itself. The current definitions are:

1. an inspiring influence--action, etc.
2. an idea
3. a result of inspired activity
4. a thing or person that inspires
5. theological--a devine influence directly and immediately exerted upon the mind/soul. The devine quality of the writings or words of a person so influenced.
6. inhalation
7. act of inspiration, quality or state of being inspried.

Synonyms: stimulus, incitement

The Muse deals specifically with inspiration for the writer, musician, poet, artist, even engineer. But what inspires the Muse?

I may not be a typical writer, but I'm inspired by more things than I can ever use. Spectacular sunset colors can bring lines of poetry to mind, unbidden and spotaneous.

Overhearing a snippet of conversation in the local convenience store can create the basis for an entire scene of dialogue for a story.

Seeing how a group of old friends or older relatives interact can give me both characters and plot aspects. It can also give me glorious realistic regional dialogue.

Watching the signs along the freeway gives me place names for stories or ideas for historical pieces in both non-fiction and fiction.

The world has so much to offer by way of inspiration. All a person has to do is keep mind, eyes, and ears open and ideas will flow. The fun thing is that no one has to go far from home to find such inspiration.

For instance, take a walk through the yellow pages. It's remarkable what you can learn about a town through that simple act. I'd be willing to bet that you'll find businesses you didn't know existed in places totally unexpected.

If you find fifteen different computer stores, ask yourself if enough people live in the area to warrant that many computer stores. Perhaps your community has grown more than you thought. Perhaps one of the stores has exclusive contracts with the school districts in the area. There are questions that will come to mind.

What about the Doll Hospital downtown? How long has it been there? Who owns it and why did they begin the business in the first place? What kinds of stories does the owner have about the store and its customers? And what kind of customers frequent the place?

See what I mean? So many questions about one small business in one town can lead you in so many directions, each of them inspired.

You know that old barn down the road? Who built it and was it a dairy barn? How long ago was it abandoned and why?

Sit at the local hangout for the WWII generation and listen to the guys talking about when they were younger. Listen to the subjects they talk about and the emotions that surface. A world of characters, plots, and description resides at those tables. Living history sits in front of the watcher waiting to be absorbed.

Inspiration walks the earth each day to be absorbed, activated, and utilized. It's up to each person to recognize it. I'm hoping that you all can find your inspiration today and each day. Whether it's a highway sign, a want ad in the local paper, a commercial on the tele, or something one of the kids said at Sunday School, keep those senses open to possibilities.

Until we talk again,

Claudsy