Everyday Canvas

Writers and Ideas and 9/11

For "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" 

Discuss this quote: “I think of myself as a bad writer with big ideas, but I'd rather be that than a big writer with bad ideas.”
― Michael Moorcock

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As I always say, to each his own. Michael Moorcock can think of himself and his writing in any old way he wishes.

As for me, I am not into big ideas or bad ideas. I am into writing. I am not a big writer as far as fame and fortune is concerned, and I never go after fame and fortune, but I am a big writer because I like to write a lot. I always did.

Just to be a writer is good enough for me. To be a better writer, though, one has to put up with one’s own bad writing and hope that it will get better. Since day one, I have been working on that one.

As to ideas, any idea can be developed into something. When you least expect it, the simplest of the ideas can produce good results. The same can go for bad or big ideas, too. It depends on who is writing it and who gives it the time and effort to develop it.

For: "Space Blog" 
Schnujo's NOT Doing NaNoWriMo

9-11  (13+) A poem about September 11, 2001. #2170507 by Schnujo's NOT Doing NaNoWriMo

Write about that day in 2001. 9-11. What were your thoughts?

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My husband and I were watching CNBC that morning. On the screen, Sue Herera said something like, “Something’s going on behind us at the twin towers!” Then she turned a little and asked the cameramen, “Can you direct the cameras there?”

That’s when we saw the first plane half in and half out of the first building. The rest bothers me way too much to write about. Each time I think of what followed, that horror attacks me and doesn’t go away for days. Suffice it to say that, we followed each step the New Yorkers took and every darn thing that happened after that.

What I can add is that, on a personal level, my older son was working in downtown. He lived on Long Island and took the train to be at work at 10 AM. He had to be just in the train then or barely out of it when the first plane hit.

He called us from his cell, asking us what was happening. The problem for most of the people on the streets was that no one knew what was going on. So, we watched that catastrophy step by step and informed him as to the goings on, with him calling us every five to ten minutes or so.

The trains had stopped, then. He couldn’t go back. So, with everyone else, he began walking uptown. Then, he got into some bar around the Colombia University where people were watching TV. He was thinking he could get a ride with someone and go over one of the bridges. His father told him to go back to the train station and wait till the trains would start working. I was even afraid of that.

At that point, like us, everyone thought it was war and we were being attacked. The trains began working sometime around 4 PM and my son went home, after that.

We were all affected badly. The sorrow lasted even to this day, and those images still haunt me. My son stopped working in the city for good. That trauma caused some kind of a PTSD in him, and since he refused therapy, I am sure he still feels the effects of it.