DiVoran Lites – Page 21 – Rebekah Lyn Books

Eavesdropping Again

One of my birthday presents was an eavesdropping event on my way home from a walk. I had left the woods and heard voices amplified by the emptiness of a garage. One was a man’s voice and the other a woman’s. Their voices were like the day: sunny and warm, mellow and perfect. They spoke in Spanish, so I couldn’t understand the words, yet somehow I felt I was at a performance of the highest order. The woman’s language rang with rhythm, the man’s with resonance. Then he talked, then he sang,,, quietly, but like a mariachi. Then woman spoke. Then it was his turn: he whistled a song like “Amapola.” I wanted to hear them again. I walked to the end of the block, crossed the street, and went past the house on their side. I never saw the couple, and I hoped they wouldn’t see me. When a neighbor got in her car and drove past, I was standing and musing over a contrail in the blue sky. I did take time to wave at her. After I listened for a while, I walked slowly past the garage opening, trying to look as simple as possible so they wouldn’t suspect me of snooping.

I passed the young woman in the yard next door. She was talking on the phone. She must have been speaking to a teen-ager because I heard her say, “…honors band…” Her voice, which was a counter point to the garage man and woman, reminded me of a poem by T. S. Eliot about a group of people talking in a train station. If I remember rightly, it was during wartime. The voices spoke one after the other as into a rapidly moving microphone.

I turned and walked back once more. That was when I heard a gust of the whistling song as if the man couldn’t contain his joy another minute. I couldn’t justify another pas-by, so I hurried home to write this post for you.

What does all that have to do with writing? You tell me. I love to hear what you have to say.

Why Am I Here Cleaning Toilets

Why am I cleaning toilets — Writing Life

The kitchen is all mine again and now the laundry is Bill’s. When he first retired he dabbled in both. I remember him and his engineer friend discussing how they did the laundry. I’m glad I got washing the dishes back. I do have a dishwasher and I really like to use it, but you still have quite a few things to clean up in the kitchen, especially after supper. I didn’t realize until that job was more or less usurped how important doing dishes was to me.

When I was a child, my parents had a restaurant. When things got busy my brother and I washed dishes. We lived in Colorado where many people came to be treated for TB, and the Health Department insisted we use antiseptic in our rinse water. The antiseptic was pink and beautiful.

When we got together for family dinners with grandmothers and such I always had to help with dishes. I enjoyed it because all the women were in the kitchen talking. and I felt like a part of something important and meaningful.

Actually, I am learning how important it is to my creativity to engage in physical tasks. Washing dishes, dusting, cooking, making beds, and yes, even laundry, frees something in us so that our brains are able to work out problems and be roused to new heights of inspiration.

Long ago, a myth about writers said they drank and took drugs and often went crazy. That myth has pretty much been put to rest. There are a few more, though. One, we are rich and have lots of time, two, writers are the most important people in the world, and above ordinary mortals, and three, we must be famous or we’re not really writers.

I’ve recently re-read one of my favorite writing books, A Broom of One’s Own: Essays on Housecleaning and the Writing by Nancy Peacock. The New York Times selected her first novel as a Notable Book of the Year. But, she still had to make a living cleaning houses. It was hard, but the job suited her need for autonomy and solitude. She could think while she was working, and she could listen to books on tape to keep up with her reading. She got many stories from and about the people she worked for. She wrote more books.

A writer friend who had three teen-age children said once when she was cleaning the bathroom she thought humorously, the world waits for me, why am I here cleaning toilets.

Almost everybody has to do that now and again (and again). It helps a lot to know how much our psyches and bodies need to work. Housework and yard work are good for the soul. I for one am grateful that I am able to work and that I have work to do.

What is your favorite job around the house or in the yard? What is your favorite myth about writers?

Writing Tip by Divoran~Pumpkin Soup

The holidays are on their way. We like to start planning early. This year we’re doing a de-construction menu. What you do is make different dishes from traditional recipes. For instance, you might make a turkey casserole with dressing and cranberries instead of a roasted turkey with stuffing inside. You can find recipes to use or you may make up your own. I think I’ll make pumpkin soup.

It’s the same way with writing. You can take things that have already been written, either your own, or someone else’s, and deconstruct and reconstruct them. Is that cheating. Is it unoriginal? No. The Bible says there’s nothing new under the sun and if anything is true that is! So how do you keep your work fresh and original? You use whatever you have as a launch pad for you’re thinking. I use cookbooks to get ideas for cooking and then change the recipes into something that suits me better. For writing, I use books, magazines, poems, paintings, people, and nature, what else is there…use that too.

Originality is not in saying something that has never been said before. How possible would that be? Originality is saying it the way you see it, understand it, and feel it. Try your best to write well and really communicate and you’ll have all the ideas for creative writing you could ever want.

One thing that’s fun for me is to know what’s supposed to be happening in a certain month. October is National Clock Month, Right Brainers Rule Month, and Dryer Vent Month. What? Dryer Vent, oh yeah, that’s what Jill Badonsky says in The Awe-Manac. Great. I have a story about a critter that got into our dryer vent. See how it works?

Now about the pumpkin soup. I’ve read some recipes and I have eaten about a ton of pumpkin pie in my lifetime, so let’s see, I’ll start with pumpkin. I may have to experiment a bit, toss some mistakes, or eat them in spite of their not being perfect. I’m not sure whether I’ll share the recipe or not. It’s too difficult for other people to follow exactly the way I do things. That’s originality, too.

Happy Writing

Love, DiVoran

Writing Tips~Patience

Book One

As we left for Orlando yesterday, we stopped at a red light. Here in the South we call all traffic lights red lights, but this one really did happen to be that color. A person on a motorcycle revved his engine repeatedly until the light changed. Did it make the wait shorter? No. did he waste gas? Yes.

When we got to downtown Orlando, we sat amazed when a car zoomed through a red light immediately before it changed to green. I’m sure he was in hurry or feeling anxious or mad, or something. Did he get where he was going faster? Maybe. I doubt it. When you are that heedless, you may not get there at all.

I have impulses too. Mostly it’s when I’m on the computer. If I were in less of a hurry and more careful I wouldn’t stress myself out nearly so much. I’ve been deciding for months that I want to hurry and finish my most recent novel quickly. In the mostly German community where I grew up the older people used to say, “The faster I go, the behinder I get.” That seems to apply to me, as well. I get nervous and overwhelmed and it spreads out from the computer to all the other rooms of my life. When I’m at the bathroom sink brushing my teeth I feel overwhelmed, or when I’m in the utility room ironing Bill’s shirts, I fret thinking I need to be doing my real work. I have a writer friend who once said, “The world waits for me, what am I doing cleaning toilets?”

When I started writing books, I said it wasn’t going to be this way. I was going to live, enjoy all the little nuances, and not rush through anything. But alas, now I’m trying to get finished so I can have a little vacation I’m planning. That would be a good reward for accomplishing what I set out to do. Alas, now that I have that deadline I feel worse than ever.

Do we know what all this rush and hurry stems from? Basically, for me, it’s fear. Did you know that the everyday ordinary child today has more fears than a psych patient in 1950? Just think how many more we may have accumulated over the years.

So, if I don’t get my book finished by the time of my own deadline, does that mean I’ll die or kill anyone? Nope. Does it mean I’ll go hungry or lose the respect of someone I love. No.

The Bible says we are but smoke; here today, gone tomorrow, and yet we think we have to rush around, make our mark, measure up. Then in the middle of all that…poof, she’s gone. I hope she had a good life. Oh, look at those pretty books she wrote.

I guess I’m saying that I really do love writing books. I love my characters, I love putting words together. I really enjoy working with others to make them the best they can be and get them off to market. But it’s possible that when I rush, the quality of my work diminishes.. Writing books definitely has its place, but so does brushing teeth, and ironing shirts.

Paraphrasing 2 Timothy 1:7. I heard the Lord say: “DiVoran, I have not given you a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power and of love, and of a calm and well-balanced mind.” My answer:, “Okay, Lord I’ll slow down and receive it. Thanks.”

Keep Writing,

Love,

DiVoran

Photo by Melody Hendrix