Why I Write Fiction

Our writers' group met last night. We do group critiques, up to three pages. No empty, feel-good, back patting here - just good, solid, rip-it-apart critiques. I usually come away with great information I can use to improve my work.

I write fiction. Mystery, suspense, sometimes a little sci fi.  Usually, I only write non-fiction when I do humor because, let's face it, sometimes you can't make this stuff up. But last night I took in a piece I had written about losing my mom. It was purely non-fiction, just as it happened, and it had been hard to write.

It was the first time I've ever felt defensive receiving critiques.  One person suggestive I change a location and I thought,"But that's where it happened." Another argued a reaction and I thought, "But that's how I felt." Someone suggested I inject a little humor and I thought, "My mother was dying. I don't remember laughing at all that month."  I even resented it when someone referred to the first person POV character as "she". That was me, damn it.

I know my reactions weren't exactly rational. The others were doing what they're supposed to do. They were critiquing the writing, not the events being written about. But for me, it was just too personal. I think I need to stick to fiction.

* * *

Last week, blog friend Maryann Miller presented me with this lovely award.

Thank you, Maryann, and I hope you'll forgive me but I'm going to play fast and loose with the rules on this.

First, I'm going to answer the questions you gave me: 

1. How long do you spend putting together a blog? - I'm a slow blogger. Even on a short post I've probably spend hours hunting for just the right a picture or joke to include.

 2. What other writing do you do? - Besides blogging? For years I only wrote book length fiction with the occasional short humor piece mixed in but I've started trying my hand at short fiction.  In fact, I've got an announcement coming on Monday.

3. Do you blog because you like to, or because you were told you have to by a publisher? - Honestly, some of each. I got started because I was told to. Most of the time I enjoy it but there are days when it feels like a time consuming chore.

 4. What is a story your family likes to tell about you? - Um, I really can't think of any. Maybe the stories they tell about me have to be told out of my hearing.

 5. When you visit another blog, do you promote it on social media?- Not often. I'm really not into the full social media thing. I don't even Tweet. Guess I'm going to have to get better at that.

Now I'm going to pass this award along to a few other bloggers but I'm awarding it N.S.A. No strings attached. No rules. No questions to answer. No pass-along requirements. I'm just going to let them know their blog provides a bright spot in my day.

If they want to post the award on their blog and mention my name, that would be great. If they want to pass it along, that's great, too. But neither are required. N.S.A - just enjoy.

So, here are the bloggers I'd like to share this N.S.A. award with (OMG, I ended that sentence with a preposition!):

DL Hammons
Linda Grimes
Liz Fichera
mooderino
Arlee Bird 
Carol Kilgore

Okay, I hope Maryann forgives me for changing the rules and I hope those I've passed this award along to enjoy receiving it.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Joke of the Day:

Little Johnny and his family were having Sunday dinner at his Grandmother's house. Everyone was seated around the table as the food was being served. When Johnny received his plate, he began eating.
"Johnny," said his mother, "please wait until we say grace."
"I don't have to," he replied.
"Of course, you do," his mother insisted. "We always say a prayer before eating at home."
"That's at our house," Johnny explained. "But this is Grandma's house and she knows how to cook."

Remembering 9/11 - the Personal Side

This weekend we're all going to be remembering 9/11, which is as it should be.  There are so many images we've seen over and over, they're part of our collective memory.  But we have our personal memories, too.  I think it's fitting that we share some of those.

Everyone remembers where they were when they heard about it.  I was working at the American Red Cross then.  I hadn't been listening to the news that morning, had no idea what was going on when I walked into my office and was immediately pulled into a meeting.  Disaster had struck and we needed to mobilize, nationally and locally.  I was sitting in that meeting, half watching the large TV on the wall when I saw the second tower go down.  For a moment there was silence, then we pushed on.

I remember the frantic call from my son.  They were evacuating his little boy's daycare center, which was located just outside a major Air Force base.  There was a fear that military installations would be targeted.  My son was on the road and couldn't get there in time.

But my most intense memories came later, when I was assigned to relief operations at the ARC Respite Center, World Trade Center.  We had set up in a university building, inside the perimeter around ground zero.  A place where the firefighters, police and other emergency personal working the pile could step away, eat, drink, rest, talk before returning to what was probably the most horrific job they would ever do.  Most of the memories I have from that time I would rather forget, but I will share this one.

We had set up a sleeping room lined with cots for those that refused to leave the site, to go home and rest.  They came in, slept for an hour or two, and went back to work.  On each cot, along with the bedding, was placed a small teddy bear.  The Red Cross often has teddy bears at shelter sites, to comfort the frightened - usually children.  I was working the kitchen that day but happen to pass by the sleeping room.  The door was slightly ajar, leaving the first cot in view.  The firefighter had simply stepped out of his boots and shed his helmet and coat before falling onto the cot.  He was sleeping.  And clutched tightly in his arm was a small teddy bear.  A very small comfort in a sea of misery. I was grateful we were able to give him that.

Will you share a personal memory of 9/11?


No groaner today.  Instead, a simple prayer - God Bless America.