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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Scribbles and Scrambles - Why I Write...

At the end of October I promised to post even more random and strange things since I would be up to my eyebrows in words for my self-imposed NaNoWriMo deadline. I currently have 33,000 words of the 50,000 required and I don't hate the story. This is good.

Anyhoo, an internet writing group/loop posed the following question: How do you explain your compulsion to write to non-writing friends and family?

My answer:

I drool and act edgy until my husband suggests I put in a little writing time.

No. I use the hunting analogy.

My husband is an avid deer hunter. When the season rolls around, he starts rack shopping, even if the freezer's full. One year we drove by a perfect Christmas card scene. Huge puffy snowflakes swirled in the air and danced in front of a brilliant moon. Trees glistened with icy glitter and a massive buck stood in the midst of it all. I was awed into silence.

My husband expelled a breath, and then said. "I wish I had my gun."

I need to write like he is driven to clomp through icy streams, sit in trees in negative temperatures, and shoot Bambi.

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