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| In the neighborhood, June 2013 (kendaturner.blogspot.com) |
"Many eyes go through the meadow, but few see the flowers in it." --Ralph Waldo Emerson
I had a pretty good walk the other day when all along my route a world of words and writing accompanied me, and not just the mechanics of the notecard and pencil I carried in my pocket:
Fallen catawba blossoms poured out like popcorn around a tree trunk--simile.
A deer, white tail straight up, bounding across a yard--poetry.
A mug lying in the road in the midst of a wet puddle still smelling of fresh coffee--mystery.
Rustling in the mulberry tree and the surprise of a squirrel dropping to the ground right in my path--the unexpected.
A mother jogging with her pre-teen daughter--supporting characters/character change.
Sweet scent of honeysuckle--detail and description.
Two small bunnies, one following the other, across the road to the bushes beyond. "Think we're going to make it before a car comes?" "Dunno' but we'd better get a move on"--dialogue. (Or maybe foreshadowing. See next...)
Awful, stinking roadkill of an opossum--complication (I had to turn my head and hold my nose) and conflict. (Sorry, TMI?)
Honk of passing white van, wave of neighbor--satisfying ending.
"Seeing is a gift that comes with practice."--Stephanie Mills. I find this to be true. I must practice seeing. My proclivity is to walk with my head down, preoccupied with my thoughts, tuned out. I must consciously look up, look around, tune in, see things with a wider vision. And then it becomes a game--what can I see? What new perspective, what unexpected wonder or connection might I make? What new idea or breakthough will surprise me? And then writing is fun again.
What about you--is your writing vision already "sharp" or do you have to practice, too? What have you seen in any of your activities this week that has re-energized your writing batteries?
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