This week: Observations on a Spring Weekend Edited by: Fyn  
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On the outskirts of every agony sits some observant fellow who points. ~Virginia Woolf
Writers have to be observant. Every nuance, every inflection in a voice, the quality of air, even - they all get mixed up in this soup of the story developing in our minds. ~Susan Vreeland
Your protagonist is your reader's portal into the story. The more observant he or she can be, the more vivid will be the world you're creating. They don't have to be super-educated, they just have to be mentally active. Keep them looking, thinking, wondering, remembering. ~Janet Fitch
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The Green Tinge. It happened this weekend past. It only lasts for a day or three; that faint greenish hue that erodes the browns of Winter woods replacing it with a bright green essence that quietly screams that Spring has finally come! As if the forest has been newly washed, as if the yard has been stripped bare of months of grey and beige and color returns. As if a black and white TV morphs to a color one. Leaves appear, still curled, as yet, unfurled, but the color is there, should one look before the blanket has been spread over the woods. The tinge is one of my favorite moments in the Spring: the world is saying 'hang in there -we've almost made it!' Years when life ran amuck and I missed the tinge, I've always felt that I missed out on an important moment. It reminds me that no matter what else is going on in my life, or, around me, I need to stay present in the moments as they occur.
Daffodil's Silent Bells. A explosion of daffodils occurred, their bell-like flowers chimed and rang in that 'tinge' providing perfect counterpoint in the seasonal orchestra. There's a moment in Vivaldi's "Spring" when your mind's eye can see the burst of color even if you listen in Autumn! They are happy flowers, their heads nodding and dancing in the breeze. Yellow daffodils plopped in a blue and white pitcher on the dining room table make me smile. Daffodils are precursors to the 'stand up and be noticed!' stance of the tulips which refuse to be ignored.
Except that I mentioned them (the daffodils and tulips) to several folks who hadn't noticed them or the greenness taking over the woods and the walking trail. Their noses, of course, were buried in their phones as they walked. I wanted to exclaim, "You're missing it!" Sigh.
A Deep Breath. There is just something extra about the scent of freshly mown grass. Especially the first time in the spring when someone starts the cycle (usually muy husband) and the rest of the neighborhood pays catch-up! Sweet, it even smells 'green' and is memorable.
Need Paper Towels. That day when the temperture rises and someone shuts off the furnace and opens every window in the house. All those amazing scents blow in and through and out again, airing out the house.Suddenly you realize that the windows are in dire need of attention. How did they arrive at that state? Or is it that now there's a reason to look out? Hubby is a whizz with Windex! He even cleaned all the screens! Wish it wasn't pouring rain today, but even that smells better this time of year!
Spring Bird Song and Annual Critter Dance. The birds have changed their music playlists to accomodate the Spring Symphony. Cardinals, robins, wrens, and even the herons and the sandhill cranes are expressing their spring fever in new music to attract and convince potential spouses of their suitability. The herons and cranes stretch out their wings doing a long-legged prance. The squirrels chase each other, flip their tails like teenagers flipping hair out of their eyes. The treefrog and peeper chorus resounds in the evening air. And, on a similair but different level, suddenly the young men in the eighborhood are spending hours washing, polishing and buffing their cars. Their form of flowers, one could suppose.
Sheet Sails. Seventy degree heat had freshly washed sheets and blankets sailing along back yard lines, whipping and snapping in the breeze. (Guilty party here) But there is nothing like sheets dried in the sun, freshened by spring breezes when you settle in to sleep at night. After a winter of dryer sheets, the scent is intoxicating!
So what's the point of this? Details. Observations. Noticing the world around us and then incorporating such details (as appropriate) into our writing. Details and descriptions add layers and levels of nuance as well as bringing the reader in to the aura of a scene and allowing them to become a more active participant of the world of a character.
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| | SNOWS OF BETRAYAL (E)
Infidelity plagues divorcee's despair, but draws on inner strength fearing impact on kids
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Through tears and kisses I promised my love, he promised he would return safely.
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hbk16 says: Imagination renders someone's spirit endless. All is possible in such imaginary world. Imagination is the important mean to creativity. The author releases ideas from such world and build amazing writing piece. Yes writing renders distances short and lets countries close to each other. This is a great subject which needs further debates. It is indeed a provoking and featured issue. I like it.
willwilcox comments: This was just fantastic. I loved it.-Bill
Quick-Quill  writes: Growing up I never felt confident in anything I did. I was made fun of and put down. I lived in books. We didn't have TV. I'd remember finishing a book and thinking "What if this happened instead?" Then in my English class(8th grade) we did some creative writing. I'll never forget that assignment. We were told to write a story based on Washington crossing the Potomac River. I wanted to write something different. I told the story from two winter rabbits observing the arrival. The picture we were given had the soldiers standing around the fire. The end of my story was the mommy rabbit watching her husband being caught for Washington's dinner. I loved that story. I don't remember if the teacher did. It's stuck with me all these years. Look at your story from a different POV and see if it stands up.
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For Authors: May 01, 2019 Issue [#9520]
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