Today, I want to…

Today, I want to write.  Really write.  I want to print out my novel-in-progress and attack it with a yellow highlighter and red pen.  I want to figure out the damn timeline and people’s ages once and for all.  I want to wallow in words.   

I want to rewrite what’s been written to make it punchy and vibrant.  I want my readers to crave the next page if only to consume more quirkiness.   

In short, I want my brain to soar like my main character Laynie’s does when she is deep into transcription: 

Deep into it, fingers flying, right and left brains soaring, Latinate language free-falling in pixels to magnetic medium, Laynie. . .  

Even when I’m telling and not showing, I want to get away with it through choice of language and strength of character. 

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The Physician

I told my physician that I seemed to be in the tertiary stage of the disease.  He looked at me for a long time before saying,

“Do you know what that means?”

Photo by Sasun Bughdaryan on Unsplash

I gave him a puzzled look, cocked my head, and waited for him to go on.

“In this case, it would mean you are dead.”

“Oh.  Well.  No.  I’m not dead.  I’m feeling much better at the core of things, but I’m still sick.  What stage is that?”

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Zoom Zoom

If people had taglines, what would yours be?

My blog has a tagline of A Hillbilly Diva’s Blatherings which I really like.  The blog is just that.  My thoughts on sundry things, events, etc.  It doesn’t have a strong focus other than Appalachia and my love for this place.  And diva?  Well, that goes without saying.

But do I want to use that as my tagline?  Probably not.  It doesn’t encompass all of who I am which gets me to the rub.  Am I looking for a tagline for me as a writer?  Or as an overall person? 

And that gets messy.  At least right now, my identity is so wrapped up in writing that it is hard to separate it from me.  It took me a long time to find my life’s calling and I’m not going to abandon it now.  While my writing may or may not scream Appalachia, I’m not sure I do though the diva is certainly on point.

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The Magician’s Assistant

I am the magician’s assistant or I used to be.  I think I am on my way out.  I strut in sequins and spangles and fringe.  I wear my own top hat and stiletto heels.  Heavy eye makeup.  The men in the audience sit a little straighter when I come on stage. 

Photo by Mark Williams on Unsplash

That’s how it used to be.

The magician too has grayed at the temples.  There’s a touch of white in his neatly trimmed beard.  He is “distinguished”, “so handsome”, the ladies sit a little straighter when he bounces onto the stage – virile and larger than life, his black cape and cummerbund downplaying the beginning of his potbelly.

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