You know that story that starts “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times?” Well, for me, not much has been going on this week and yet I’m exhausted by everything that’s gone on this week.
I survived a long weekend with everyone home – always a good thing.
I’ve suffered jaunts out close to midnight every night driving my eldest in to his new night-shift job. Good because he’s working full-time (with benefits – yay!), bad because anytime I go out after ten o’clock it wakes me up and takes me that much longer to unwind and get to sleep.
I got up one morning (the morning after spending a late night reading Christine’s book) and while I was filling the kettle for my morning cuppa, twisted just a quarter inch the wrong way and couldn’t move for two days, but it made me focus some on my writing.
I’ve been over-plotting I think. Generally I approach writing in a curious combination of plotting and pantsing. I know the characters intimately, I know the general story line – I know where the story starts, how it ends and generally the steps that have to happen to get the characters there, but I don’t like to have an indepth outline where every chapter is mapped out. I have worked that way, but it really bugged me – and I felt my writing came out stilted trying to stay with that storyline. But I think I forgot that and tried over-plotting on this one. So I closed down my outline document and opened up my story and just wrote forward. Hallelujah 4,000 words. I found myself writing a very different scene for me – one that pushed my personal comfort boundaries, but you know, by the time I was finished, I’m quite pleased with it, and I think I’m going to end up with an antagonist who will be conflicted and challenge the reader as they both hate him and feel sorry for him.
Oh on Saturday Paula was asking me about our new fridge – what a kafuffle that was! It was delivered last Saturday. Damaged. So it had to be refused and returned to the store. Another one came on Tuesday. We decided upon a side-by-side with an ice/water dispenser, and now I’m sitting drinking a lovely peach/mango juice with coconut rum over ice. Delicious! And much better than the Tylenol I should be taking for headache that started during today’s TRW meeting…
…where I nearly sailed past the off-ramp I needed as I’d forgotten it was at a different location this month. The best part of the meeting was handing over the goodies Red Garnier sent me for Wylie and Amy, along with my own little additions to their gift. Yay! I can finally talk about them! Wylie got a copy of Lover Revealed personally signed by JR Ward, and Amy unwrapped a lovely book Temptation of a Proper Governess signed by Cathy Maxwell.
When I got home this evening, my husband pointed out a column by Neil Crone in the local paper, the Oshawa This Week. Neil is a comic actor who also writes humorous observations about his life a la Dave Barry. I had the privilege of meeting Neil at a WCDR breakfast where he came and spoke about surviving colon cancer. Today’s column was about how he and his sons were invited to attend the Orono Fish and Hunt Club and try their hand at shooting.
Now when I tell people I ‘went shooting‘ down in Dallas, I tend to get some very strange looks. But Neil summed up how I felt perfectly. I looked to see if I could find a link to his column, as they have put it up on their website in the past, but it looks like they’ve stopped that. Hopefully I won’t be violating copyright laws by quoting from his column here:
…We had the time of our lives target shooting with handguns, rifles, old fashioned muzzle-loaders, shot-guns and replica M-16’s. My boys thought they had died and gone to heaven. As for me, it was all I could do to maintain any semblance of adult reserve and not shriek ‘Me first! Me first!’ whenever a new gun was brought out.
It really was fun. Beyond the obvious exhilaration created by the thunderous bang and kick of the weapons, there was an intriguing story or history behind every gun we handled and a few we didn’t ….”
In today’s politically correct society, I’d be willing to wager that Mr. Crone will end up getting dragged through the bushes backwards for his article, but I completely understand what he’s saying. Target shooting down at Sue’s parents’ place in Texas was a blast, and I would love to try my hand at it again.
I’ve seen first-hand the other side where people have handled guns carelessly – like when our ten year old neighbour and his best friend were playing in the bedroom he shared with his brother. The two boys found the 14 year old brother’s .22 rifle that he’d stashed under the bed. The friend picked it up and aimed it at my little neighbour and, not realizing it was loaded, pulled the trigger and killed him. (By the way, the rifle had recently been returned to them by the police after the brother had deliberately shot through another neighbour’s front window missing the man by inches. Do NOT ask me why the parents had given the gun back to him. I know as a parent it would have been taken from him forever.)
But I grew up listening to tales my father told me of how before his father left to fight the Germans, he handed his wife a gun – ironically enough, a German luger – with the instructions that should the Nazis succesfully invade England, she should use it. (I never did figure out if he meant on the Nazis or themselves). And the farmers where I grew up needed guns to keep away wild dogs and coyotes, and rarely bears. So I know that as much as people hate guns, there is a need for them – though I don’t get the need for the average man to own an AK47 or other type of assault weapon like that. But target shooting is fun! And I hope the public will understand Mr. Crone’s article, even if they don’t have the insight that I was given.