A Writing Weekend Getaway

This past weekend I treated myself to a mini writer’s retreat. I rented a little cabin through Airbnb (free plug here for the Airbnb site and this cabin in particular). While there’s nothing particularly stressful about my home life, I just wanted to get away for a couple of days, and give myself an excuse to not get distracted by the hundreds of little things that can pop up when you’re sitting at home trying to write.

This little cottage was perfect: cozy and rustic but still had all the amenities (air conditioning and wi-fi being the most important), easy to find but not in the middle of town. Being surrounded by nature is relaxing and inspiring for me. It was refreshing to wake up to a rooster crowing, and take an afternoon stroll down the road and be greeted by a horse at his pasture fence. Even though nothing I’m writing on right now features farmlands or roosters, this sort of environment pus my mind and spirit at ease and therefore lets the creativity rise to the surface.

Here are a few take-aways from my writing weekend:

  • Two nights is not long enough. Next time I decide to take a writer’s retreat (whether by myself, or with a group), it needs to be longer.
  • I didn’t feel guilty about being anti-social. Actually, I spent several hours chatting with my wonderful host (who is also a writer) and had a lovely time. A writer needs to be a keen observer of people, which is hard to do if you’re a hermit. But for just a couple of days it was nice to not put on makeup and not leave the house except to sit in the garden and write.
  • I really need to live in the country, preferably near the mountains. While I don’t want to live so remote that it takes an hour to get to the nearest grocery story, it’s nice to drive down a two-lane road and not see a traffic light—or a traffic jam—for a few miles.

So now I’m back to my regular life, driving through the bustling city and wearing makeup and looking presentable. But I came away from this weekend feeling refreshed, inspired, and with several writing tasks checked off my to-do list. The trip was well worth it and I hope to do it again soon!

My view of the garden when I sat outside to write

My view of the garden when I sat outside to write

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Live Forever

Last month I submitted a short vignette to a writing contest. This contest was put on by the Iceland Writers Retreat, and the grand prize was a free ticket to the conference in April. I did not win (*sob*) but I’m glad I participated, and I send all congratulations to the winner. (You can read the entries by the winner and the two runners up here – which I encourage you to do, after reading my post here, of course).

The rules were simple – write 500 words inspired by an image of the Harpa Concert Hall in Reykjavik. I won’t put their image in my blog post, of course, but I will give you a similar image that I took when I was in Reykjavik a couple of years ago (too long ago! I need to go back!)

Anyway, here’s my little piece, and a lovely picture of Harpa to go with it. Enjoy!

 

Live Forever

“If anyone is suicidal, they should come here,” he says to me.

“What?” I turn from the view of the bay and stare at him. “You are so insensitive.” It’s been a few years since my cousin died, but still…

“I am not. I mean, my God – just look.” He waves his hand at the vista before us.

A fierce wind is blowing, turning the water into a basalt gray; mere moments ago it had been a rosy yellow like the sky. I know it’s a fierce wind because I see the boats jumping on the water, but we’re safe inside this concert hall of glass. No, it’s more like crystal. Great blocks of manmade crystal, all glass-smooth, put together like a giant puzzle. Stairs, walls, ceilings – you can see through everything. It’s half mathematical wonder, half art masterpiece.

“We may be a hundred feet up, but it’s not like anyone could get through this,” I say finally, laying a hand against one of the clear cubes of the wall. “And I didn’t see any balconies on this place.”

He looks at me. “Now who’s being insensitive?”

“You brought it up.” The sky is turning white with clouds. I’m glad I wore my thicker boots today – by the time we leave, it might be snowing.

“So?”

“So, you just…oh, never mind. You’re a jerk sometimes, that’s all.”

I expect him to get huffy – or maybe just laugh off my insult, which is more annoying than when he gets huffy. But instead, he does neither.

My hand is still pressed against the cold glass wall, and he suddenly covers my hand with his. “I’m not being a jerk,” he says quietly. “Don’t you see it?”

I look at him. “See what?” I ask.

“This. Everything.” He grips my hand. “Stop being so pragmatic for just a minute. Stop thinking about how we’re probably going to get caught in a snowstorm, or how much our coffees cost earlier, or how a jumper could actually get outside this building so they could fall to their death in the water.”

He’s never talked like tHarpahis before. His face is strangely bright in the gray light coming through the glass. I want to ask him what he’s talking about, but suddenly I don’t know what to say.

“If anyone is suicidal, they should come here,” he says into my silence. “The water, the sky, the mountains, the light… There’s too much beauty, and you feel like you’re on top of the world. There’s no way you could end it all here, no way you’d want to anymore.”

The snow starts, tiny crystal flakes dancing just past our fingertips. The overcast grayness has suddenly brightened into joyful white light. Now I understand him.

“If anyone came here wanting to die,” I whisper, “they’d realize that they could live forever. And that it would be beautiful.”

A Traveler’s Moment of Reflection

Sometimes it’s the little things that grab your attention.

There are the famous museums and the great monuments. Every city, town, and country road has its own uniqueness, its glamor both great and small. Sometimes those small bits of glamor capture your senses, and come to define a place in your mind long after you have left. When I went to Iceland I found such a moment – not in the vast verdant wilderness of the country, but behind a gas station in the middle of the city.

I passed by this gas station every evening on my way back to where I was staying. Behind the gas station and convenience store was a little garden. Beyond that, a walking trail led around a lake (or perhaps an inlet of the bay.) I never explored the extent of the trail, or even the depths of the garden, because I only ever came to this place in darkness or at sunset.

The statue of the boy in the garden was a dark silhouette against the sunset. I couldn’t read the Icelandic plaque, even if there had been enough light. I wondered how many lives passed through this garden every day – jogging on the trail along the water’s edge, or enjoying a snack from the gas station. I wondered whose life had inspired the statue.

Here, at this serene spot of glamor in the middle of a city, I found a sight that captured my mind. I had many wonderful experiences in Iceland, and I look forward to going there again for more. But this little stone boy at sunset will always be Iceland to me.

~Oct5 171

What International Travel has taught me about English

English is my native language, and I’m very grateful that my mother tongue is basically the Latin of the 21st century – the language of universal commerce. I say grateful because I always want to keep an attitude of humility when it comes to the global dominance of my language. I never want to be one of those travelers who, upon arriving on a foreign shore, arrogantly expects the locals to speak English and is offended when they don’t. I appreciate every person in another country who does speak English to me, and I usually try to learn at least a greeting or a thank you in the local language.

I’m far from being a seasoned traveler, but my experiences both overseas and with foreigners in America has taught me a few things about my beloved English.

Normal conversational speech is way too fast. And I’m from the American South where we taaaalk….reeaall…sloooow. If you’re in a non-English-speaking nation, or talking to a local at home who is still learning English, slow it down. Whatever you think is absurdly slow is probably still a little fast, especially if the other person’s English is very poor. And be sure to annunciate each word. We all tend to mumble and blend our words in the comfort of our mother tongue. A side note: resist the urge to shout. The other person knows English as a second, third, or fourth language – their hearing is probably fine. I tend to be soft spoken, so I’m not usually a shouter, but if I have to repeat myself several times, I do remind myself to speak slower and clearer, not necessarily louder.

Don’t judge or correct. If someone says something to me that makes grammatical sense but not contextual sense, I ask for clarification about the word that I think they might have misused. Asking for clarification or explanation is a more polite way of letting the non-English speaking person know that they goofed. Nobody likes to embarrassed, even if they made a legitimate mistake. By using this technique, I’ve often had the other person admit they probably used the wrong word and ask me for help. It’s much nicer to be asked to help someone with their English than to be the language police making corrections all the time. Also, whenever I’m tempted to judge someone’s English or get impatient, I ask myself how well I would do at talking to them in their language. Since I know far less Norwegian/Chinese/Farsi/etc. than they know English, I choose to be grateful that they’re trying to communicate with me at all.

English is hard. Grammar and spelling rules, exceptions to those rules, different pronunciations for the same letter combinations… Even us native speakers – and yes, even us grammar nerds – have trouble remembering all the rules and conventions of English. Yes, every language has its quirks and inconsistencies, but most everyone agrees that English is near the top of the list of difficult to learn. I’m always appreciative when someone has taken the time and mental effort to learn English, even just a little bit. Again, if I ever catch myself growing impatient with a non-native speaker’s improper use of sentence structure – like saying “You is” or something – I remind myself that I likely couldn’t do half that well in their language. And again, I keep an attitude of gratitude. I’m thankful and humbled that I was born into an English speaking culture. Not because English is better than other languages, but because I’m blessed that one of the complex languages of the world today comes naturally to me.

Looking Back, Looking Forwards

Like so many others at this time of year, I find myself musing on the past and dreaming of the future. I thought I’d share a few reflections of 2013, and what I’d like to see myself accomplishing this coming year.

Highlights of 2013:

-I got to see one of my favorite singers, Eivør, live in concert. Definitely a dream come true – especially since the concert was not only here in the US (unusual for her touring schedule), but a mere two hours from my house.

-I made my first official submission and got my first official rejection. I submitted a short story to a fantasy anthology, and it was rejected. I was very excited about this, because even if I decide to self-publish my novels rather than trying for agents or publishers, I wanted to get some submission experience under my belt.

-I took a trip to Iceland. It was my first trip to that country, and also my first solo traveling experience. I loved the city, the country, and the culture, and I know that I grew a lot from the experience of being all alone in a foreign country.

-I wrote several guest posts for other blogs. It’s exciting to see my writing featured on other websites besides my own blog, and hopefully I’ve added value to the readers of those blogs.

Goals for 2014:

-I want to go back to Iceland – specifically for the Iceland Writers Retreat. Networking with other writers in the land of the Nordic Sagas would be more than awesome.

-I want to finish the first book of my fantasy trilogy. My original goal was to have the second round of rewrites and edits done by the end of 2013. That did not happen. So 2014 will be the year to finish the edits, get it off to my beta readers, and at least begin the publication process.

-I want to get something published. Whether it’s the fantasy novel, a short story, or even getting paid to write a blog post, I want to have a published piece of work to my name before the end of this year.

-I want to read more. Writers need to be readers; and while I of course love reading, I didn’t do much of it this past year. I had a rather short to-read list for 2013, and I didn’t get through very many of them. You can track my reading habits on Goodreads, if you like – and I want to post more books on my profile this year than last.

Now I’d love to hear your thoughts! Did you have any goals accomplished or dreams realized in 2013? What do you have planned for 2014?