An Aside About St. Patty's Day

Coincidentally, I was in San Francisco when they were having a Saint Patrick's Day Parade. Interestingly, though, the celebration was on the 15th rather than the 17th. My cousin said the Pope had changed the holiday because it interfered with holy week. Personally, and to show my love for Ireland, I wore my green on the 17th. Nothing against the Pope. This parade was interesting enough, filled with dancers and drummers and even a hurling team. No, it's not what you think; hurling is an Irish sport involving an "axe-shaped stick," like a long-handled paddle, and a small ball they toss between themselves using the stick. The show was complete with a row of police officers on horses decked out in their finest uniforms. I've probably seen better parades than this one, but it was enertaining.

Photo: As we walked around downtown San Francisco, we saw this float, possibly getting ready for the parade. Looking closely, though, I believe it was a tour bus/boat.

A Measly Paragraph

It's strange how inspiration works. I'm not sure I even believe in it. I've heard some of the best writing has been done when the writer forces themselves to write, rather than waiting for the inspiration to come. Now that I've waited nearly two weeks, I think I'm finally ready to continue chapter 9 and keep rolling. I'm not exactly sure what started it, but it might have been a thought as I was commuting to school on the bus the other day. I finally figured out what should happen--at least temporarily--in a paragraph I was stuck on so I could move on past it. Later I realized; it was a paragraph that stumped me. Mind you, it was a hard hurtle to jump, but it made me think that no two paragraphs are ever created equal [eek, what bad cliches]. I just need to keep telling myself, it's okay to write crap. You can always edit it later. Now you have to just write. I wonder if talking to yourself is a required part of being a writer. Actually, I'm sure it is. Excuse me for my rambling.

Photo: Trees at a hike when I went to Sedona, AZ. If you describe the trees as "bony" and the path beyond as "shrouded in darkness," it would be the perfect place for some kind of evil lair. Don't worry! I won't stay in Arizona for long with my pictures. With luck, I'll take some good shots in San Francisco this weekend. Hopefully at least one.

Morning Pages

I've started an exercise mentioned by the book The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron, called "morning pages." After you wake up, the first thing you do is write three pages (on paper, but I'm modifying it and doing it on the computer). Spelling, grammar, punctuation, etc. don't matter, and if you write "I don't know what to write," for three pages, that's fine. Of course, nobody wants to be that monotonous (at least I don't). You can use it to write angry, fearful, worrying things if you want, and it helps to get them out of your head. It leaves room to be more creative, and she says that anyone can do it and it can help in their lives. She said after writing these pages for a while, a character decided to show up and she began writing about him. Sometimes I feel like it's pointless, but that's my inner critic again. I believe anyone (even you!) can do this, and to me it makes me feel good, like I've accomplished something that day already. Just a thought.

Photo: This is a picture of cave walls found at Tonto National Bridge State Park, AZ. The shapes amaze me! It looks like globs of goo, but they're hard as rock.