My box of words
Choosing and stockpiling
I take inventory.
I tuck them away
in my little treasure box
lined with memories
aging and gnarled
the edges curling.
filled with promise.
Choosing the right ones
is a challenging
not always accomplished
Copyright (C) Penny Wilson
“It took me years to become a writer. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up until I was in my late 40s but what finally pushed me in that direction was finally understanding what I loved so much – words – how they sounded, their definitions, how I enjoyed forming sentences or thoughts and what made music and reading so special to me. I had been in love with words all my life. It was time to honor them.”
… and he later asked me to expound on those thoughts. Interestingly, I had already created a draft to do precisely that! I will happily double down on the view that words are special and wonderful and every positive adjective out there – in other words, they are indeed magic to me! But I will also compliment my friend on putting into words for himself how divine words are—then capping off his last sentence with the title and intention of his blog – sublime!
Furthermore, I felt it was important to delve deeper into the subject on a more emotionally-evoking aspect of it for me, and purely because words are that exciting. I see many new blogs on WordPress, where it feels like the commitment to writing and using those precious words well is lacking in the presentation of their work. I’m not just talking about me being a Grammar Nazi (which, at heart, I am) but just taking words and placing them willy-nilly without any forethought to whether they rightly belong in that order or in that thought process. It feels like massive disrespect to those words I hold so dearly. Add to that, they sadly also don’t care enough to spell them correctly, in the right context, or even in a flow that makes sense. It diminishes the glow I feel that words deserve to be bathed in.
Now, I’m fully prepared to be called out that reading is subjective, and maybe the things I’ve mentioned here, another writer could feel about my pieces – I’m not perfect, I do make mistakes in my writing, and gotten called out about it to which I happily thank them. What I’m referring to primarily is a gross misunderstanding of how to write a coherent thought. Words are meant to deliver information about the subject matter, concept, or story idea – not take away from the purpose of what those definitions are relating. Sadly, I’ve read many who, as I said, don’t seem to be that committed to pulling off a sound thought. That makes me sad because I revere words. I hope that we all remember how unique and magical words are, letting this opinion and concern of mine be recognized the next time a post begins to percolate in a writer’s brain.
Thanks for reading! Comments and/or slap downs encouraged. 😉
I’m so happy to share that this book has published!! It is such a relevant anthology of the times, showcasing the arduousness of 2020. 114 writers, poets, and artists have contributed to this book filling it with stories of the difficulties and raw emotions in navigating current social, political, and medical travesties. Black Lives Matter, the Covid-19 pandemic, Trump, and the insecurities felt during the upheavals occurring in our nation, and our world is front and center in this anthology. It is a book facing them all head-on, revealing our humanity but also our strength. I would encourage you to get your copy!
If you prefer paperback, click here or Kindle, click here. And remember, I’d be happy to Authorgraph it digitally, if you choose to purchase an electronic version instead. Thank you for your support! 🙂
When I look deeper into this piece, I feel it doesn’t necessarily refer to just dealing with writer’s block. Humans are complicated, and sometimes facing things is a long-drawn-out process. Being scared is just one of the emotions one can go through.
Thank you, Nathan Cocker – Poetry 365 for this nomination. While I appreciate being nominated and answering the questions you asked of me, I won’t be selecting any blogs. I think most, if not all, writers I subscribe to deserve a nomination. Please take a little time to get to know me a little better. Thanks again for the opportunity to share my world, Nathan! I hope everyone takes a moment to read your work!
Nathan’s Questions For Me
Are you a cat, dog, mouse, or fish person? (Explain why…)
I love all animals so I won’t choose one. If I was of the frame of mind to have a pet, it would probably be a miniature pig.
What was your first music album / CD? (What was your last? Damn you, Spotify!!)
No idea as it was over 40 years ago now. I can tell you my first concert was Styx – the Babe, I love you Tour. I was sixteen at the time.
Which is your favourite Beatle and why?
Ringo Starr because I love drummers.
If you could be any character from fiction or movie, who and why?
I would want to be any noble character who is always willing to stand on the right side of history.
What was your most disastrous date night? Tell all the gory details!
I can’t say that I ever really had one.
No regrets. But, what is your biggest regret? (No politics)
Marrying my first love. Although, I would never have had my first son. He was worth going through the ending of it.
What was your scariest weather moment?
Tornado that the funnel was starting to rotate above our home in 2001. It did touch down but when it did, it was about 1/2 mile away from us.
What is your favourite city? Explain why?
Boston, Massachusetts will forever be my favorite city. There is such a rich history there and the city is beautiful architecturally. The people are wonderful too!
What did you want to be when you were growing up?
A singer, then I wanted to be in the Air Force, not married and never having children. I never became a singer or get into the Armed Forces but I did get married (2X) and had two children.
If you could make a mixtape (OK! or, a spotify playlist), which are the first 5 tracks?
LP – Lost on You Pink – Raise your Glass AC/DC – Back in Black One Republic – Counting Stars Shawn Mendes – There’s Nothing Holding Me Back
You have the luxury of writing your own epitaph. Please tell us all? (and make us cry…)
I won’t be writing an epitaph as I’m not getting buried. My body and my brain are getting donated to science. But I will tell you that I’ve asked my children to make sure the Obiturary starts like this…
Zarah heard screams, then pounding – silence. What happened? Her hands and feet were tied. The room was dark but she could see shapes. They did not move.
“Zarah?” A voice called.
Zarah didn’t know who could know she was here. What should she do? Was someone coming to rescue her? Who else could be looking for her? Her kidnapper knew she was here. But, if he sent someone to torture her more, she wanted to stay hidden.
Just then a small critter, which she couldn’t see in the dark, ran over her leg. Automatically, she tried to scream, but the gag stopped her, yet her legs jerked without thought. Her feet hit something solid. She heard something above her make a sound, something off-balance. She couldn’t see what it might be. Would it fall on her?
Metal fell on the cement floor beside her. A door opened.
My mate and I found the perfect location for our new home. We built to our specifications to meet our needs. That’s always an exciting time for me. I love the anticipation of new views and new life. When our home was completed, I settled in for the birth of our children. Before they could be born though, a huge, fearful creature intruded and I had to flee for my life and safety.
“I hope they didn’t leave for good,” the man mused as he saw the two robins fly away from the nest they had just built in the bush right outside his window. Earlier, he had looked closer and saw one of them sitting on the nest. Had the eggs been laid yet? He was excited to watch their progress. Had they flown for good? He hoped not.
They never returned.
A Fair Trade
“I’ll trade you all of mine for only a portion of yours, a tiny portion,” the middle-aged man said casually to his friend.
“No way in Hell!” His friend exclaimed. “I’m sorry, but that kind of trade would do me no good.”
“Sure it would. You would gain a wider experience. You could see from a new perspective.”
“Nope. I’ll keep my limited experience and narrow perspective.”
“Well, don’t say I didn’t make the offer.
“You offered,” his friend laughed. “And, I was smart enough to turn it down.”
“How about five minutes?”
“Five minutes of Hell can be a real eye-opener.”
“Look at it from my point of view. I’ll take just five minutes of a childhood feeling loved and cared for. I have no idea what that might be like.”
“I feel for you, but I can’t. Sorry.”
They parted, unable to bridge that gap.
Herrmann was surprised to find himself in 1951 on a farm in Kansas. Still trying to make sense of it, he’s grown fond of grass waving under wind, trees and moonlight. His work has been published in print and online, even some of both in languages he can’t read.