Help! I'm being buried under books

I have this incurable disease called bookaholism. I fully expect to meet my demise under an avalanche of books.

In an attempt to decrease the odds, I began to weed out my collection a few years ago. One way I did this was to put together a basket of books and donated it as an auction item...specifically a bunch of   books about writing that I knew would never have their covers cracked open by me again. Hey! Maybe the winner gleaned a few nuggets of knowledge from them.

I also packed up a box of books dealing with a subject I was no longer interested in and donated them to my local library. I even listed a bunch on Amazon and sold a few there.

But despite my efforts, it seems to me these critters must secretly multiply.

Last year I surrendered to the siren call of an E-Reader and requested one as a birthday present. My husband readily acknowledges he is an electronic dinosaur so I did the seeking and purchasing of a Kindle Fire. Surely now the ever-encroaching tide of books would come to a stop.

Not so. Now I find myself cribbing minutes to read the growing list of downloaded e-books on my reader. Just yesterday I made a stop at the local Goodwill store and walked out with a sack of books.
To be honest, only one of them is for me...the rest are to be given away.

There's more than one way to control this disease.

Distraction to the Writing

Have no idea why I chose this topic to write about. I share my home with only a retired husband and a cat, Sammi. Husband has been trained to not disturb when my fingers are poised over the keyboard. Still working on training Sammi.

At the moment she is making passes between my feet lodged on the floor. If I knew better, I'd guess her message was, "I want to go out side." But, she has already conveyed that message earlier--way before the sun started coloring the sky--by scratching on the wall above the headboard of my bed.

So really, I don't have distractions other than my tendency to indulge in unimportant whims like cleaning the bathroom or cooking supper.

Would love to hear about your distractions to your writing. Could be a productive way to put off writing tomorrow's blog...you think?

Writing Flash Fiction

I enjoy writing flash fiction. What is flash fiction, I hear you ask? It's a piece of writing that tells a story with a beginning, a middle, and an end using only 300 to 500 words. Today I'm sharing a writing exercise using the following words to write a flash fiction story: Linseed oil – turpentine – palette cups. You get to tell me if I succeeded or not.

The apprentice gathered a handful of paint-filled brushes and dropped them into the turpentine-filled jar.

He brushed aside straw-colored hair leaving a steak of ocher on his forehead. Once more his gaze returned to the wet painting on the easel. Could add just a stroke or two to the mouth. Make the smile a little fuller. Feeling guilty, he shot a look across the room to the two men deep in argument.

“Ten lira. That’s all that painting is worth to me. Take it or leave it.”

“But Patrone, just the special colors you demanded cost me more than that.”

The visitor shrugged his shoulders and turned away, shaking his head. 

Maestro grabbed at his cloak, forcing the man to halt in his steps. “I’m pleading, Patrone. What will I have left to live on once I pay my model and the apprentice?”

The man yanked his cloak out of the artist’s clutches, dug beneath its surface and pulled out a leather bag. He loosened the drawstring and shook out several coins. Holding them out in his hand, he said, “Here, this is all I can spare.”

The artist snatched the coins from his open palm and bowed deeply. He followed his visitor out the door and down the steps to the entrance.

Left alone, the apprentice returned to his work. The model, Lisa, had already left but not without some curt comments about her meager pay for the long hours Maestro required for this painting. He swiped at the palette cups, regretting the waste of paint. Tomorrow, the same costly colors would again be squeezed from their tubes. There was always another painting that needed to be done if they were to eat.

The sound of a more amiable conversation drifted from below. What a way to live. Much as the need to create beautiful pictures drew him, he realized this was not the way he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

He stared again at the wet painting. Lisa was a charming subject, no doubt about that. But there was something about… He snatched up a brush lying nearby and with just the suggestion of hesitation dipped it first into the linseed oil and then in the Crimson Red. He leaned close to the canvas, wanting to be exact in the placement of the paint. There! Just one or two dabs.

He stepped back and surveyed what he had done. Now! That will make everyone wonder what the lovely Mona Lisa was smiling about.

Did you enjoy it? Will you help me give it a name?

It's Day Four

Some days it's better to just quit fighting and relax into the flow of things. This was one of those days. Maybe it's the years I've accumulated but I no longer stress if the time to write never shows up. Hey! There's always tomorrow, right?

But since the challenge is to post a blog every day for thirty-one days, I will prop up my eyelids with toothpicks long enough to get something written here.

Let's talk about writing space. Where do you do your writing? I'm blessed to have a kid-free home with only my retired husband to intrude on my time. As I've mentioned previously, the daily pages I write almost first thing in the morning are scribbled on a small desk in my bedroom. That works fine for eating my breakfast while I fill in the lines.

When a laptop entered my life, the only space available was in the living room where, like at this moment, it has to compete with the television show my husband is watching. This devise is usually dedicated to social media postings like Facebook, Twitter, and Google+ which just seem to multiply and take up more and more of my time.

For a designated workspace, I trot the fifty feet or so out to the little cabin situated by the barn. That's where the serious stuff happens. That's where I do the research, where the writing resource books are kept and my accumulation of past writings and publications that I just can't bear to get rid of fill every spare open space. There are even storage boxes underneath the kitchen table I inherited from my mother-in-law. Twenty-five years or more (I've lost count) sure does create a lot of saved paper!

Butterfly Thoughts

Another typical Texas winter day...gray overcast skies and dripping clouds. May need to wear my boots to slosh through standing water when I trudge out to my cabin later this morning.

I titled this posting butterfly thoughts because that seems to be the way my mind is working this morning...flitting from one room of memories to another...alighting on first one thing or another but not delving deep before going on to something else.

Since writing and reading consume such a large portion of my attention, my thoughts touched upon the books I've read in my lifetime. Two came quickly to mind--mainly because their titles captured my imagination and upon reading, the style of their content has stayed with me.

Many, many years ago I stumbled upon The Scent of Water, a novel written by now-deceased Elizabeth Gouge. Reading her prose mesmerized me. She had the ability to take ordinary happenings in a person's life and somehow, draw aside the curtain and provide a peek into the soul of her character. I devoured everything of hers I could put my hands on and was never disappointed.

In more recent years, I discovered the writings of Julia Cameron, someone I would delight to sit down and chat with over a cup of coffee. But, somehow I suspect she would prefer tea. The Sound of Paper, the latest I've consumed although she recently published a new book, ntrigued me from the start. Her perspective on the writing life transformed me and to this day I continue to practice her recommendation to write what she calls Daily Pages. It's become a ritual to set myself at the desk in my bedroom, light a scented candle, and open the spiral notebook that stays accessible. Then, in as constant a motion as possible, I hand-write until I fill three pages. Whar I write is of no consequence; the objective is to keep the pen moving. Having developed this habit, I am continually amazed by the ability to now basically write on command.

That's just one of the considerations that occupied my thoughts upon waking this morning. I'll save my ruminations about the months I lived in Hawaii for another posting.

Day Two of a Thirty-One-Day Challenge

Okay, okay. So I'm a glutton for punishment. Have to admit I just can't ignore a challenge. So, hopefully, you can look forward to getting some kind of gibberish from me every day for the whole month.

A month or so ago I downloaded a fifteen-lesson course that promised to teach me everything I needed to know about successfully using a blog to promote my books. What with the busyness of the holidays and a rash of book-signings, I've managed to peruse only lesson one and two.

The subject of lesson one was the importance of your blog name. Since this blog has been active (off and on) for a couple of years, I saw no need to expend any mental anguish on something different. I like the name I came up with...Comparing Apples & Oranges...it provided an opening for a wide variety of subjects.

If you've been curious enough to read past postings on this site, you will see how eclectic my postings are. In 2013, I did a series on the origins of common sayings and shared about phrases such as "What's Under Your Hat?" and "Mind Ypur P's & Q's."

2012 delved into the origin of a host of Christmas traditions like the history of the Candy Cane and the Kissing Ball. I tapered off in 2014--far fewer postings--mostly dealing with what was happening in my writing career at the moment or somehow related to writing in some way.

Tomorrow I may write about Lesson Two...and then perhaps not. May just wait and see what the Muse brings to mind to share.

Remembering To Blog

Why is it so many projects begin with tons of enthusiasm and before you can pop a balloon, the new adventure turns into an ornerous chore?

I really had good intentions when I began this blog website. I mean, really, how difficult could it be to take five or ten minutes and jot down what was pressing on my mind at the moment. Didn't happen!

So anyway, New Year's Day 2015 has arrived and it calls for new beginnings...I think. A friend just shared information about the Ultimate Blog Challenge so I say to myself...what the heck, might as well give it a try.

This is what you get for day 1. You'll have to keep coming back to see what kind of nonsense I put down in the following days.

Oh by the way...if you'd like to take the challenge, just go to this website  http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/sign-up-confirmation/