amusement
A young brother and sister play with a water bottle for about an hour. First they take turns tossing the bottle to make it land upright on the ground. Then they roll it and kick it back and forth. After that, they relocate to a flight of stairs and toss it up and down.
limiting
She channels her thoughts through narrow conduits of social justice jargon.
ominously
I don't know why a cloud of bees has formed above the bed of a pickup truck, and I don't get close enough to find out.
outmaneuvered
On seeing his grandma approach with the stroller, the toddler wails that he isn't ready to leave. He stomps off shouting, "Bye!" She blows him a kiss. He softens enough to send her one back. Her relaxed posture misleads him into thinking he's safe from capture. He toddles closer, grinning. He's still grinning when she snatches him up and straps him, wailing again, into the stroller.
overcoming
Her coughing fit ends, and her soulful voice crawls out, cradling each note of a slow melody.
sonogram
During the sonogram, the technician asks me to be patient as she tries to locate one of my ovaries. "It's like deep sea diving," I murmur, and she laughs. (The outer office has an ocean resort atmosphere. Soft pop music and a decor of seashell pink, cloudy white, and calm blue.)
soothes
Some shimmering classical piece is playing in the background, and I'm sinking into the sofa, my thoughts calm.
Showing posts with label ideas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ideas. Show all posts
Friday, February 28, 2020
Friday, November 2, 2012
NaNoWriMo Notes #2: Super Power Caps Lock
If you were to look at the draft of my novel you'd find passages written entirely in caps lock - sometimes a sentence or two, other times several pages.
Whenever I'm writing and suddenly get a new and exciting idea that feels right, that makes sense and completes the scene or character, I hit caps lock and start typing at a fast pace. Doing this helps me focus on the writing and capture as much of the new idea as I can, instead of getting caught up in more minor concerns like sentence structure and consistent punctuation. Later drafts will take care of those.
This super power caps lock habit reminds me of the old Super Mario Nintendo game when Mario eats a spotted mushroom and balloons in size, looking that much more formidable as he stomps on his foes or dodges man-eating plants that shoot fireballs.
Whenever I'm writing and suddenly get a new and exciting idea that feels right, that makes sense and completes the scene or character, I hit caps lock and start typing at a fast pace. Doing this helps me focus on the writing and capture as much of the new idea as I can, instead of getting caught up in more minor concerns like sentence structure and consistent punctuation. Later drafts will take care of those.
This super power caps lock habit reminds me of the old Super Mario Nintendo game when Mario eats a spotted mushroom and balloons in size, looking that much more formidable as he stomps on his foes or dodges man-eating plants that shoot fireballs.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Week in Seven Words #105
coding
The online coding tutorial rewards you with a blue check mark on every exercise you successfully complete, and it's a good feeling to see one surface on the page, a sense of progress and mastery, even if you later realize that you have to go back to those old exercises because you've forgotten something important about the correct placement of semi-colons and the script you're trying to write isn't working anymore.
freeing
I like brainstorming on the train. The rocking motion seems to loosen things up in the mind.
impregnable
The blue doors on the school are like portals in a fortress, admitting no one. I expect that at any moment a sphinx will alight on the steps and demand an answer to a riddle in exchange for entrance.
marigold
The Shakespeare Garden is quietly alive in the winter sunlight. And on a plaque I find this passage from The Winter's Tale:
The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun
And with him rises weeping...
The marigold flowers are nowhere in sight; only the promise of them.
relaxed
Boats drifting by on the river. I don't need to know where they're going.
unruffled
Ducks and seagulls are scattered across the lake. When they take wing the water hardly stirs.
whimsies
Two of my favorite things are Thing 1 and Thing 2 from The Cat in the Hat.
The online coding tutorial rewards you with a blue check mark on every exercise you successfully complete, and it's a good feeling to see one surface on the page, a sense of progress and mastery, even if you later realize that you have to go back to those old exercises because you've forgotten something important about the correct placement of semi-colons and the script you're trying to write isn't working anymore.
freeing
I like brainstorming on the train. The rocking motion seems to loosen things up in the mind.
impregnable
The blue doors on the school are like portals in a fortress, admitting no one. I expect that at any moment a sphinx will alight on the steps and demand an answer to a riddle in exchange for entrance.
marigold
The Shakespeare Garden is quietly alive in the winter sunlight. And on a plaque I find this passage from The Winter's Tale:
The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun
And with him rises weeping...
The marigold flowers are nowhere in sight; only the promise of them.
relaxed
Boats drifting by on the river. I don't need to know where they're going.
unruffled
Ducks and seagulls are scattered across the lake. When they take wing the water hardly stirs.
whimsies
Two of my favorite things are Thing 1 and Thing 2 from The Cat in the Hat.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Week in Seven Words #37
linger
Things that get put off and delayed do not go away. Why do I keep letting myself think they do? Though I turn my mind to other chores and tasks, the things I've tried to put off still sit there (I can see them out of the corner of my eye) siphoning away my concentration until at last I just have to deal with them.
neglected
I don't want a human life to go by unobserved. The people who seem invisible, unloved, and unwanted by others - I used to think they're ignored in large part out of a lack of time and willingness, also an indifference and callousness (life's busy, so much to do, can't stop to look, and are they worth it anyway?) but there's more to it than that. There's an underlying fear too, that anyone can slip through the cracks.
penne
Maybe it's the colder weather, because I get a craving for pasta this week; I like the way it bubbles in the pot, the billow of steam as I tip it into the colander, and the plentiful plate of it drenched in tomato sauce, garlic, basil and mozzarella.
phoenix
A new week, and new ideas rise out of the unceremonious ashes of old ones.
puddled
The world is overrun with cold water. Every step is a squelch, a splish, a spatter.
straining
I want them to understand. I point, repeat, stare at them with a desperate encouragement, ask questions, try to urge them out of a state of passive absorption. I wait for the light to flow into their faces, the glimmer of comprehension, that tells me they've learned - and that even if they don't grasp everything, that they want to at least struggle with the material, to lean forward in their chairs and puzzle things out, ask questions, throw suggestions out there without a fear of being wrong.
vaccine
The nurse administering the flu shot asks me if I'd like her to tell me when the needle is about to go in. I tell her it's not necessary, because I'm going to watch. Ever since I was a kid, I've never taken the suggestion to look away during a shot. Much as the sight is unappealing, if I don't look I'll tense up; maybe when I look, it feels less like something is happening to me that I have to just passively take.
Things that get put off and delayed do not go away. Why do I keep letting myself think they do? Though I turn my mind to other chores and tasks, the things I've tried to put off still sit there (I can see them out of the corner of my eye) siphoning away my concentration until at last I just have to deal with them.
neglected
I don't want a human life to go by unobserved. The people who seem invisible, unloved, and unwanted by others - I used to think they're ignored in large part out of a lack of time and willingness, also an indifference and callousness (life's busy, so much to do, can't stop to look, and are they worth it anyway?) but there's more to it than that. There's an underlying fear too, that anyone can slip through the cracks.
penne
Maybe it's the colder weather, because I get a craving for pasta this week; I like the way it bubbles in the pot, the billow of steam as I tip it into the colander, and the plentiful plate of it drenched in tomato sauce, garlic, basil and mozzarella.
phoenix
A new week, and new ideas rise out of the unceremonious ashes of old ones.
puddled
The world is overrun with cold water. Every step is a squelch, a splish, a spatter.
straining
I want them to understand. I point, repeat, stare at them with a desperate encouragement, ask questions, try to urge them out of a state of passive absorption. I wait for the light to flow into their faces, the glimmer of comprehension, that tells me they've learned - and that even if they don't grasp everything, that they want to at least struggle with the material, to lean forward in their chairs and puzzle things out, ask questions, throw suggestions out there without a fear of being wrong.
vaccine
The nurse administering the flu shot asks me if I'd like her to tell me when the needle is about to go in. I tell her it's not necessary, because I'm going to watch. Ever since I was a kid, I've never taken the suggestion to look away during a shot. Much as the sight is unappealing, if I don't look I'll tense up; maybe when I look, it feels less like something is happening to me that I have to just passively take.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Week in Seven Words #36
cerulean
The sky is a crisp blue, the air is clear and cool, leaves crackle across the cobbled paths; I sit on a low stone ledge with a notebook on my lap and a mind full of contented thoughts.
crumble
He holds my idea like a leaf between his forefinger and thumb and lifts it up to the light. It looks papery and dry. He rubs his fingers together, and it disintegrates slowly.
delay
Life can feel like a game of Tetris; if I get too distracted or take too long dealing with any one thing, every obligation, burden, assignment, and duty just piles up in weird insurmountable towers.
lighten
It's worth it, to put the book aside, the article, whatever it is that's due soon and demanding time, and just sit and talk to good people; one of them in particular, known mainly for his jokes, shares a beautiful serious story with me.
morose
Autumn mutters to herself and shakes raindrops out of her rags.
nocturnal
I wake up in the middle of the night, strangely keyed up and unwilling to turn over and try to sleep again. Like a mouse scrabbling around in the dark, fixing up her nest, I spend a couple of hours sorting the piles of paper on and around my desk, slotting them into folders, drawers and piles, throwing some out, tidying them into short neat stacks.
styrofoam
As the silence stretches on, I feel the need to supply conversational filler. It's like stuffing styrofoam chips into a shipping box; if I leave too much space unfilled, the fragile object inside will break.
The sky is a crisp blue, the air is clear and cool, leaves crackle across the cobbled paths; I sit on a low stone ledge with a notebook on my lap and a mind full of contented thoughts.
crumble
He holds my idea like a leaf between his forefinger and thumb and lifts it up to the light. It looks papery and dry. He rubs his fingers together, and it disintegrates slowly.
delay
Life can feel like a game of Tetris; if I get too distracted or take too long dealing with any one thing, every obligation, burden, assignment, and duty just piles up in weird insurmountable towers.
lighten
It's worth it, to put the book aside, the article, whatever it is that's due soon and demanding time, and just sit and talk to good people; one of them in particular, known mainly for his jokes, shares a beautiful serious story with me.
morose
Autumn mutters to herself and shakes raindrops out of her rags.
nocturnal
I wake up in the middle of the night, strangely keyed up and unwilling to turn over and try to sleep again. Like a mouse scrabbling around in the dark, fixing up her nest, I spend a couple of hours sorting the piles of paper on and around my desk, slotting them into folders, drawers and piles, throwing some out, tidying them into short neat stacks.
styrofoam
As the silence stretches on, I feel the need to supply conversational filler. It's like stuffing styrofoam chips into a shipping box; if I leave too much space unfilled, the fragile object inside will break.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Week in Seven Words #11
brighten
After a night of little sleep and a few days in a slump, I don't think I can be inspired that afternoon. I'm mistaken. Her lecture thrums with intelligence and possibility.
countdown
These are days spent counting different things. I don't want to think about how many more afternoons like this I'll have in their company, these people with whom I've found such a shared language. Of course I plan to see them in the future, but it won't be quite the same.
discarded
Walking home I spot a lovely white carnation in a garbage can. It remains upright among discarded newspapers and food cartons. A few blocks later, while crossing a courtyard, I see a squirrel sitting in a large shrubbery pot and tearing through a bun. He probably snatched it up from the garbage can three feet away, where someone had tossed it away nearly whole.
inexpectation
Expect to be continually surprised. What I say may cause a young man to snort wine from his nose. A young woman who pops in and out of my life will stand with me in the entranceway of an apartment building for close to an hour pouring out her doubts and feelings and hopes about some of life's most personal matters. Other people will sometimes be there and sometimes won't be there; every moment they're present is to be savored, for however long it may last.
sealed
While quickly translating text, the sensation of running up against gates tightly shut. We send out our hands and fumble for keyholes or crevices; hopefully the means will occur to us - the root, the context, the sensation of I saw that word ten verses ago, didn't I?
torpid
The urn beneath the drainpipe is flooded. In the froth of rain drops and run-off, long green leaves churn listlessly.
vantage
From ground level it looks like the tree has shed all its blossoms. But from the second floor window, I spy some flowers peeping from the uppermost branches; pink and white, they're surrounded by blowzy brilliant green.
After a night of little sleep and a few days in a slump, I don't think I can be inspired that afternoon. I'm mistaken. Her lecture thrums with intelligence and possibility.
countdown
These are days spent counting different things. I don't want to think about how many more afternoons like this I'll have in their company, these people with whom I've found such a shared language. Of course I plan to see them in the future, but it won't be quite the same.
discarded
Walking home I spot a lovely white carnation in a garbage can. It remains upright among discarded newspapers and food cartons. A few blocks later, while crossing a courtyard, I see a squirrel sitting in a large shrubbery pot and tearing through a bun. He probably snatched it up from the garbage can three feet away, where someone had tossed it away nearly whole.
inexpectation
Expect to be continually surprised. What I say may cause a young man to snort wine from his nose. A young woman who pops in and out of my life will stand with me in the entranceway of an apartment building for close to an hour pouring out her doubts and feelings and hopes about some of life's most personal matters. Other people will sometimes be there and sometimes won't be there; every moment they're present is to be savored, for however long it may last.
sealed
While quickly translating text, the sensation of running up against gates tightly shut. We send out our hands and fumble for keyholes or crevices; hopefully the means will occur to us - the root, the context, the sensation of I saw that word ten verses ago, didn't I?
torpid
The urn beneath the drainpipe is flooded. In the froth of rain drops and run-off, long green leaves churn listlessly.
vantage
From ground level it looks like the tree has shed all its blossoms. But from the second floor window, I spy some flowers peeping from the uppermost branches; pink and white, they're surrounded by blowzy brilliant green.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Ben Franklin and formative books
I've been reading Walter Isaacson's biography of Ben Franklin and thinking about the descriptions of Franklin's childhood in Puritan Boston, including books he cited as favorites or key influences:
- John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress
"A central theme of Bunyan's book... was contained in its title: progress, the concept that individuals, and humanity in general, move forward and improve based on a steady increase of knowledge and the wisdom that comes from conquering adversity." (Isaacson, pg. 25)
- Plutarch's Lives
"... also based on the premise that individual endeavor can change the course of history for the better." (Isaacson, pg. 25)
- Bonifacius: Essays to Do Good by Cotton Mather
"'If I have been,' Franklin wrote to Cotton Mather's son... 'a useful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book.'" (Isaacson, pg. 26)
It's interesting to consider how these books shaped Franklin (and also what ideas he accepted, and which ones he ultimately disregarded and discarded, such as Calvinism's notion of predestination); remember also that Franklin did not come from a wealthy home - his father was a tallow chandler, and Franklin did not have any sort of extensive schooling - these books were available to him at home, and at age 10 he started apprenticing at an older brother's print shop (an education in and of itself and an experience that influenced the course of his life). A lot of personal initiative then, from an early age. And while his knowledge and intellectual endeavors expanded throughout his life, these books seemed to form the germ of his later thinking and his attitude towards an individual's personal development and civic responsibilities (undertaken out of a sense of personal duty).
I wonder what books are considered foundational by modern young readers. There are different religious texts; and what about secular books? Which books did you find left a lasting impression on you, helped shape your ideas (to whatever extent and for whatever duration), impacted decisions you've made or values you've cultivated and considered important? Did you find these books in your home, on your parents' bookshelves? Were they given to you by a good friend or teacher?
Also, to what extent were the books influential - did you recognize them as being important or life-altering shortly after reading them? Or only years later? (or do you mostly just say they were, as part of the narrative you're constructing of your life and how you got to where you are?)
- John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress
"A central theme of Bunyan's book... was contained in its title: progress, the concept that individuals, and humanity in general, move forward and improve based on a steady increase of knowledge and the wisdom that comes from conquering adversity." (Isaacson, pg. 25)
- Plutarch's Lives
"... also based on the premise that individual endeavor can change the course of history for the better." (Isaacson, pg. 25)
- Bonifacius: Essays to Do Good by Cotton Mather
"'If I have been,' Franklin wrote to Cotton Mather's son... 'a useful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book.'" (Isaacson, pg. 26)
It's interesting to consider how these books shaped Franklin (and also what ideas he accepted, and which ones he ultimately disregarded and discarded, such as Calvinism's notion of predestination); remember also that Franklin did not come from a wealthy home - his father was a tallow chandler, and Franklin did not have any sort of extensive schooling - these books were available to him at home, and at age 10 he started apprenticing at an older brother's print shop (an education in and of itself and an experience that influenced the course of his life). A lot of personal initiative then, from an early age. And while his knowledge and intellectual endeavors expanded throughout his life, these books seemed to form the germ of his later thinking and his attitude towards an individual's personal development and civic responsibilities (undertaken out of a sense of personal duty).
I wonder what books are considered foundational by modern young readers. There are different religious texts; and what about secular books? Which books did you find left a lasting impression on you, helped shape your ideas (to whatever extent and for whatever duration), impacted decisions you've made or values you've cultivated and considered important? Did you find these books in your home, on your parents' bookshelves? Were they given to you by a good friend or teacher?
Also, to what extent were the books influential - did you recognize them as being important or life-altering shortly after reading them? Or only years later? (or do you mostly just say they were, as part of the narrative you're constructing of your life and how you got to where you are?)
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