Writing
I Hear Them . . .
by Lisa A Kramer
I hear them, calling out to me, in voices that whisper just beyond understanding.
"Tell my story," they say.
"Let my voice be heard."
"Pick me, pick me!" Unknown voices from the past whose stories have yet to be told. Souls wandering the earth, yearning to be heard, to connect, to be remembered. Spirits of nature, lost in the vagaries of time, longing to reconnect with human voices. Imaginary voices gathering dreams as they hope to be given life.
They are all there, whispering, touching, feeling, being.
And yet . . .
I cannot find the way in. I cannot write the stories down. I cannot hear the voices clearly enough to give the stories the life they deserve.
I am lost in the wilderness of voices.
Can you...
"Tell my story," they say.
"Let my voice be heard."
"Pick me, pick me!" Unknown voices from the past whose stories have yet to be told. Souls wandering the earth, yearning to be heard, to connect, to be remembered. Spirits of nature, lost in the vagaries of time, longing to reconnect with human voices. Imaginary voices gathering dreams as they hope to be given life.
They are all there, whispering, touching, feeling, being.
And yet . . .
I cannot find the way in. I cannot write the stories down. I cannot hear the voices clearly enough to give the stories the life they deserve.
I am lost in the wilderness of voices.
Can you...
The Moon Made Me Do It
by Lisa A Kramer
I was browsing through some random writing from the past few months in search of inspiration and found this so I thought I'd share. Enjoy! ;)
I couldn't help myself. The moon shone silver and spectacular, opulent in its pregnant fullness. It called out my name in a voice I hear with my body, not my ears. It said, "come out and play."
So I did.
I walked out the door in my nightshirt and bare feet. I suppose it was chilly out, but I didn't feel it. I didn't think about checking on the kids or locking the door. They're old enough to be left alone for a while anyway. They are both teenagers and both drive. They don't need me anymore.
But...
I couldn't help myself. The moon shone silver and spectacular, opulent in its pregnant fullness. It called out my name in a voice I hear with my body, not my ears. It said, "come out and play."
So I did.
I walked out the door in my nightshirt and bare feet. I suppose it was chilly out, but I didn't feel it. I didn't think about checking on the kids or locking the door. They're old enough to be left alone for a while anyway. They are both teenagers and both drive. They don't need me anymore.
But...
Life at One Inch
by Lisa A Kramer
Hello! Hello down there. Can you see me?
Look up. Way up. I'm visiting with my friends the osprey family and I noticed you walking by.
You might think it's dangerous for a small person like myself to hang out with osprey, but that's just foolish big people thinking. Tiny people know how to get along with our friends in nature. Osprey love fish, and I have a deal with this family to help them find the juiciest locations for fishing, in exchange for occasional rides for business or pleasure. Today I helped Mr. Osprey find some fish to feed the little ones and then decided to come up and visit them in their nest. Some strange and fascinating big people have...
Look up. Way up. I'm visiting with my friends the osprey family and I noticed you walking by.
You might think it's dangerous for a small person like myself to hang out with osprey, but that's just foolish big people thinking. Tiny people know how to get along with our friends in nature. Osprey love fish, and I have a deal with this family to help them find the juiciest locations for fishing, in exchange for occasional rides for business or pleasure. Today I helped Mr. Osprey find some fish to feed the little ones and then decided to come up and visit them in their nest. Some strange and fascinating big people have...
The Moon Calls
by Lisa A Kramer
In honor of the super moon, I thought I would repost this little piece of fiction originally posted on March 21, 2011 at Women Wielding Words (the former incarnation of this blog)
The Woman moves silently through the sleeping household, pulling on a silken bathrobe as she cautiously makes her way toward the sliding back door.
The tide surges in her blood and she cannot sleep. She hears a mysterious call that echoes from inside her head, if only she could understand what the voice was saying.
She slides open the door and steps out into the night air. A cool breeze whispers more secrets as it ruffles her hair gently. The sounds of night hesitate for only a moment, sensing the intruder...
She slides open the door and steps out into the night air. A cool breeze whispers more secrets as it ruffles her hair gently. The sounds of night hesitate for only a moment, sensing the intruder...
Reading Recommendations
by Lisa A Kramer
For a short time as I ventured deeper into the world of writing, I thought I would write book reviews as a way of building a larger audience.
That didn't last long for a number of reasons. Perhaps the most important reason, in my opinion, is that reviews tend to either crush the breath out of someone or make their heads swell so much they stop trying to improve. Reviews don't help, except when it comes to book sales.
Another reason, closely related to the "crush or swell" possibility, is the fact that I am actually starting to form relationships (virtual and in person) with many writers--all of whom have ventured into a scary and emotional journey. Many of them have decided...
That didn't last long for a number of reasons. Perhaps the most important reason, in my opinion, is that reviews tend to either crush the breath out of someone or make their heads swell so much they stop trying to improve. Reviews don't help, except when it comes to book sales.
Another reason, closely related to the "crush or swell" possibility, is the fact that I am actually starting to form relationships (virtual and in person) with many writers--all of whom have ventured into a scary and emotional journey. Many of them have decided...
Pirate Captain Sarah Lee* Reporting for Blogging Duty
by Lisa A Kramer
Yesterday I mentioned I was going to a Pirate Picnic at Sarah's school, which really entailed her fourth grade classmates sharing a booklet of writing about pirates with their guests while sitting on a towel in the gym and nibbling on snacks. They all prepared little booklets that contained narrative writing, descriptive writing, opinion writing, and expository writing. For those of you newish to my blog, I occasionally share my daughter's writing, to encourage her to keep at it. So today's post is an excerpt from the booklet, her descriptive writing piece:
The Evil Caribbean Pirate
Ahoy there matey. AHOY THERE MATEY, ugh . . . avast you shall go no farther. I have something for you! I have met a pirate,...
Sometimes Dreams Require a Helping Hand
by Lisa A Kramer
Walking toward a dream. Photo by Steve Kramer
We all have dreams. We all have goals in life that keep us moving in some kind of direction, even if the destination lies in the mist ahead.
So many of us who write blogs dream of becoming published authors, but that's not the only dream that exists in this blogging world. Some dream of making a difference in the world; some dream of making connections. Some dream of finding a way to travel and share experiences. Some dream of hiking the entire Appalachian Trail to prove to themselves and the world that they are not limited by disabilities or anything else. Some dream of becoming journalists or public speakers....
It's Not About Me! A Morning Epiphany
by Lisa A Kramer
"All of them, the novelists, the story writers, the poets, desperately long to win. If there is a prize, then there is someone somewhere on earth who desires it. Grown men pace their homes and scheme about ways to win things, and small children hyperventilate over the prospect of gold-plated trophies for penmanship, for swimming, for just being cheerful." (Meg Wolitzer, THE WIFE: A NOVEL)
It seems inevitable. I wrote my post celebrating the magic that happens when you dip in the creative pool, and then I get sucked into a whirlpool of worry and doubt a few hours later.
Why do I do this to myself?
It started, I think, when I got an e-mail. You know that excited thrill you get...
Why do I do this to myself?
It started, I think, when I got an e-mail. You know that excited thrill you get...
I Love it When . . .
by Lisa A Kramer
I love it when . . .
. . . my words and ideas flow from me with a life of their own.
. . . I can revisit ideas that never quite came to fruition, and give them new life.
. . . I don't let my fears and doubts stop me. I dive in, and say, "to hell with my inner critic, I'm doing this anyway."
. . . I wake up in the morning feeling like anything is possible.
. . . I feel the connection with the creative pool that surround us, and with the energy that connects us.
. . . time passes and I don't notice it, as I am caught in the creative flow.
I love it when that happens,...
. . . my words and ideas flow from me with a life of their own.
. . . I can revisit ideas that never quite came to fruition, and give them new life.
. . . I don't let my fears and doubts stop me. I dive in, and say, "to hell with my inner critic, I'm doing this anyway."
. . . I wake up in the morning feeling like anything is possible.
. . . I feel the connection with the creative pool that surround us, and with the energy that connects us.
. . . time passes and I don't notice it, as I am caught in the creative flow.
I love it when that happens,...
The Dark Side of Magic
by Lisa A Kramer
Don't listen to the fairy tales, my children.
Listen, instead, to me. I can teach you about magic, for I learned the lesson the hard way. Of course, I know you won't heed my warnings. You won't listen to my evidence. You won't hear.
You will choose to believe what you want to believe. You will search for magic that can make dreams come true. Just as I did.
I don't blame you. I fell for the fantasy as well. The fairy tales teach us that there is good magic, and bad. We've come to believe that fairies represent the light, with their pixie dust and glowing giggles. A flick of the wrist, a snap of the fingers and everything we wish for...
Listen, instead, to me. I can teach you about magic, for I learned the lesson the hard way. Of course, I know you won't heed my warnings. You won't listen to my evidence. You won't hear.
You will choose to believe what you want to believe. You will search for magic that can make dreams come true. Just as I did.
I don't blame you. I fell for the fantasy as well. The fairy tales teach us that there is good magic, and bad. We've come to believe that fairies represent the light, with their pixie dust and glowing giggles. A flick of the wrist, a snap of the fingers and everything we wish for...
Juggling Time
by Lisa A Kramer
I like writing in the morning
Ding dong, the words are gonna fly
Character's speaking
Adventures peaking
It quickly makes the time go by!
[Sung to the tune of "I'm Getting Married in the Morning]
I have recently realized that I am a morning person.
I prefer to do everything in the morning: exercise, run errands, teach classes, pay bills, and write, write, write.
If I don't get things started in the morning, very little gets done.
Ah, but there's a few problems with this system.
I'm a director of theatre . . . well, I still want to direct theatre productions. The theatre world is diametrically opposed to those who function better in the morning. So if and when I direct, I need to somehow become a morning person,...
I'm a director of theatre . . . well, I still want to direct theatre productions. The theatre world is diametrically opposed to those who function better in the morning. So if and when I direct, I need to somehow become a morning person,...
Endings and New Beginnings
by Lisa A Kramer
"Today's show, "Hit the Road," stories of heading out into the unknown during the time in your life when it means the most, specifically when you are still figuring out who you are." (Ira Glass)
The above quote from Ira Glass can be heard when he introduces Act II of "Hit the Road" on This American Life. I listened to a downloaded podcast of the program as I returned from driving my brother back to my mother's house after his most recent stint playing "Uncle Dad"--helping me out with Sarah so I could work after school programs while Nathan is away at a summer theatre job.
The statement struck me, because I wonder if anyone ever stops trying to figure out who we really...
The above quote from Ira Glass can be heard when he introduces Act II of "Hit the Road" on This American Life. I listened to a downloaded podcast of the program as I returned from driving my brother back to my mother's house after his most recent stint playing "Uncle Dad"--helping me out with Sarah so I could work after school programs while Nathan is away at a summer theatre job.
The statement struck me, because I wonder if anyone ever stops trying to figure out who we really...
Living a Life of Passion
by Lisa A Kramer
Once in a while I'm reminded that there are people out there who have mastered the art of living life with joy and passion--they represent the goal and the dream.
Sarah bought me a butterfly today. A symbol of my need to change, find my beauty, and fly.
Artists, writers, non-profit advocates--people who don't think about the paycheck or the title, but live to create, to learn, to share, to love, and to enjoy life.
I admit that, when that reminder comes, I feel a twinge of envy, and a dollop of regret. I find myself wandering into the realm of "what if . . . " What if I became brave enough to let all the "have to's" go...
Sarah bought me a butterfly today. A symbol of my need to change, find my beauty, and fly.
Artists, writers, non-profit advocates--people who don't think about the paycheck or the title, but live to create, to learn, to share, to love, and to enjoy life.
I admit that, when that reminder comes, I feel a twinge of envy, and a dollop of regret. I find myself wandering into the realm of "what if . . . " What if I became brave enough to let all the "have to's" go...
Writing as a Group
by Lisa A Kramer
I have a friend who meets with me for a mini-writing group of sorts. We talk, share our writing dreams, sometimes share things we've been working on, and then give each other a quick writing challenge.
Yesterday, I dragged my brother along, as he is with me, since he is here playing "Uncle Dad" to help out in this week of insanity. As we talked, he wrote a stream-of-consciousness blog post that reflected some of our conversation. When it was time to write, he suggested we do one of those group poem experiments, where one person writes a line, only allowing the next person to see the last word. The next person writes a line with that word as inspiration and...
Yesterday, I dragged my brother along, as he is with me, since he is here playing "Uncle Dad" to help out in this week of insanity. As we talked, he wrote a stream-of-consciousness blog post that reflected some of our conversation. When it was time to write, he suggested we do one of those group poem experiments, where one person writes a line, only allowing the next person to see the last word. The next person writes a line with that word as inspiration and...
Wisdom of the Crone
by Lisa A Kramer
You look at me and call me Crone. Ancient, wrinkled, old. Or perhaps you don't look at me at all. Perhaps you are one of those people who can only see those whose flesh contains the juices of young blood, young life.
I had the beauty of youth once. I was not born old. Some said my beauty rivaled that of famous beauties--Helen of Troy, Aphrodite, Cleopatra even Angelina Jolie.
But physical beauty is unimportant. It always fades away.
I would be honored to be connected with any of those women, but not because someone decided they were beautiful. Rather because they lived life with passion and intelligence, making their own rules on the way.
But I digress. Now you see only the wrinkles that...
I had the beauty of youth once. I was not born old. Some said my beauty rivaled that of famous beauties--Helen of Troy, Aphrodite, Cleopatra even Angelina Jolie.
But physical beauty is unimportant. It always fades away.
I would be honored to be connected with any of those women, but not because someone decided they were beautiful. Rather because they lived life with passion and intelligence, making their own rules on the way.
But I digress. Now you see only the wrinkles that...
Waitin' (100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups)
by Lisa A Kramer
It's been a while since I wrote one of these, but it's time to dip my foot into these challenges once again. Be sure to visit the challenge to read other entries or join in the fun.
For more about the 100 WCGU, click here.
This week's 100 Word Challenge is a picture prompt:
Image from Maris World. Waitin' I remember standin’ with Jenna, waitin’ for somethin’ to happen across the river. We knew that if we waited long enough we would see somethin’—maybe a herd of unicorns galloping by, or the spirits of the water singing on the bank. We stood there, never crossin’ past the fence, cuz if we did we’d get in big trouble from...
For more about the 100 WCGU, click here.
This week's 100 Word Challenge is a picture prompt:
Image from Maris World. Waitin' I remember standin’ with Jenna, waitin’ for somethin’ to happen across the river. We knew that if we waited long enough we would see somethin’—maybe a herd of unicorns galloping by, or the spirits of the water singing on the bank. We stood there, never crossin’ past the fence, cuz if we did we’d get in big trouble from...
I Hate Writing Bios and Other Random Thoughts
by Lisa A Kramer
I've spent the morning trying to catch up on a variety of short projects while I wait for the next influx of grading which is about to invade.
Have I mentioned how much I hate grading?
But this isn't a post about grading, or a rant about the students who want to save their grades last-minute by making up work that should have been done months ago (I don't allow it) but still turn in final projects that show lack of effort, care, or learning. I'm not going to dedicate an entire post to that because it makes me feel like this:
Instead, I want to discuss the writing I absolutely hate to do, and that is writing Bios or About pages.
Why? You...
Have I mentioned how much I hate grading?
But this isn't a post about grading, or a rant about the students who want to save their grades last-minute by making up work that should have been done months ago (I don't allow it) but still turn in final projects that show lack of effort, care, or learning. I'm not going to dedicate an entire post to that because it makes me feel like this:
Instead, I want to discuss the writing I absolutely hate to do, and that is writing Bios or About pages.
Why? You...
Creating the Space to Create
by Lisa A Kramer
“Exercise the writing muscle every day, even if it is only a letter, notes, a title list, a character sketch, a journal entry. Writers are like dancers, like athletes. Without that exercise, the muscles seize up.” Jane Yolen
We've all heard the advice that if you want to be a writer, you must "write every day"
This used to stress me out, as the balls I have to keep in the air sometimes simply don't allow me to take much time to write, unless I sacrifice something very rare and valuable--like time with my daughter or sleep.
When I couldn't find the time or focus to write something daily, I began to tell myself things like: "You'll never be a writer, because REAL...
This used to stress me out, as the balls I have to keep in the air sometimes simply don't allow me to take much time to write, unless I sacrifice something very rare and valuable--like time with my daughter or sleep.
When I couldn't find the time or focus to write something daily, I began to tell myself things like: "You'll never be a writer, because REAL...
A Spot of Silliness in Celebration of Words
by Lisa A Kramer
Banner created by a long time friend of mine (too long to count) Geoff Casavant)
Today I’d like to celebrate the words I love to say; words that scintillate words that titillate and words that have their way every time you write them down or speak them to a crowd, these words have ways of standing out and proclaiming that they’re proud of being words so eloquent that your mouth delights in form words like “amorphous,” a shapeless word that conveys a sense of mystery, or “crepuscular”, a twilit word we never use enough-- instead we write of failing light and the growing dimness of dusk. “S”-sounds slip into my mouth with mellifluous ease, seducing me with their insouciance, a susurrating tease. However, it’s not just beautiful words that seduce me with their song but words that hit me viscerally --a cacophony gone wrong. Words that punch...
A Whirlwind of Change
by Lisa A Kramer
My life seems to have taken on a new metaphor.
I'll need to use mixed metaphors to explain, please bear with me. Last week I was mired in the chaos of too many things that seemed beyond my control. I was on a speeding train, going nowhere. I woke every night in the middle and never returned to sleep, as my mind whirled with all the things I had to do, along with all the places I felt I was failing. It was ugly.
But then, something shifted. I still feel like I'm moving at high speeds, caught in a whirlwind of change but the difference is that now I feel like I AM RIDING THE STORM!
Last week was one of the...
I'll need to use mixed metaphors to explain, please bear with me. Last week I was mired in the chaos of too many things that seemed beyond my control. I was on a speeding train, going nowhere. I woke every night in the middle and never returned to sleep, as my mind whirled with all the things I had to do, along with all the places I felt I was failing. It was ugly.
But then, something shifted. I still feel like I'm moving at high speeds, caught in a whirlwind of change but the difference is that now I feel like I AM RIDING THE STORM!
Last week was one of the...
