Rain, Tin Roof, and Reading

When I was young, my grandfather’s house had a tin roof. I remember sitting in a chair, laying my head back, listening to the light pecking resonating a hypnotic rhythm while watching water drip off the edge.

I’m very fortunate to have a home in the middle of the woods, quiet, serene, and it has a tin roof. When it rains, I lay on the chaise lounge on my porch listening to the drops hit the roof while reading a good book. That sound pulls me deeper into the story.

 Yes, I have been known to fall asleep. That’s okay, the rain on a tin roof also makes for some good dreaming, and I will admit, on more than one occasion, I have abruptly awakened after rolling off the chaise.

The Good, The Bad, and The Gray

Stories have characters who are essentially good and some who are bad from the beginning. My favorite characters to write are the gray, those who just can’t be good all the time, and those who are bad yet give us surprising moments of goodness. I enjoy the challenge to show the breaking moments when a situation turns the normalcy just enough to give a glimpse of another dimension to a character.

I think of myself as a gray character. I have days when I am the best version of me, days when I don’t want to be around myself, and days that start off in a clear direction, ending so far away from where I originally started.

At any time, life can twist us a little, changing our mood. Just remember, on your best day, share a bit of joy with others, and on your worst day, commit an act of kindness. It is surprising how on a bad day, being kind gives a glimpse to the dimensions of your character.

Imagining All My People

I took a day trip to the place that provided inspiration for the book I have just finished. I walked around seeing my characters in certain places. I am sure the passerby’s thought I was some lunatic just walking around smiling and occasionally stopping to sit on a bench. Oh, if they only knew what was actually going on in my head. Then again, with this book, it may be a good thing they don’t know.

Hummingbirds, Chickens, and Attitudes

I sat on the porch drinking coffee this morning minding my own business. I noticed a couple of hummingbirds having a disagreement at the feeder. It was entertaining until they decided to bring their drama to me. I dodged left and right, getting buzzed a few times. I suppose one decided it needed back up. Next thing I know, six hummingbirds go at it, and I’m trapped in their turf war. I duck and cover my way into the house.

An hour later, I go to the chicken coop to feed. Those high school mean girls were on a roll too, fighting with each other, pecking at me, and I swear one of them gave me side eye. I threw up my hands and backed out of the pen.

I wondered what was next, two squirrels boxing it out over an acorn? Then, I thought about it. I have to admit over the past week I have felt a little irritated.

Maybe we’ve all had enough of summer, maybe we’re all struggling with the changing of seasons, or maybe, we’re all experiencing a pissy mood happening on same day. Hmm, food for thought.

When Your Web Won’t Shoot.

I am a person with a deep belief, if there is a will, there is a way. When I write myself into a corner, do I just sit there with fingers on the keyboard, waiting on a great epiphany? No. I ask the question, what would spiderman do? I shoot a web to an adjacent wall, swing out over the proverbial pile of words blocking the way, and kick the crap out of some adjectives.

But I too, at times, run out of webbing.

I recently spent days writing on something just to realize it is not working. Did I bang my head on the desk? No, CAT scans are too expensive. Did I question my life choices? Yes, for about five minutes. Did I walk away and come back with a fresher mindset? Absolutely.

Sometimes, whether in life or writing, you just have to know when to say, well played Green Goblin, well played.

Lesson learned, move on.

Rules, Choices, and Getting Out of Mopping

I read a post on a social media platform where a woman wrote of seasoned writers making comments she perceived as negative regarding the voice and tense utilized while writing on her book. I did not see the conversation where she originally engaged with the group nor the comments. From what she posted, she sounded upset. This made me really think.

In everyday life, we run into rules where someone says you can’t do that, or you must do it this way. Over the span of history, rule breakers pushed evolution forward sometimes for the good and sometimes creating a disaster. It comes down to choices. For me, I ask the rule setter, why? I want their wisdom, information, and knowledge to seek out for myself if I agree or carry on with a rebel marching to my own drum vision. It all comes down to decisions and consequences.

Did I post a reply to the woman without knowing the full conversation or comments? Yes, by simply saying, write the story you want to write and the way you want to write it.

She may come up with the next best seller setting a new trend or learn from experience what works and what does not, either way, it is her decision. Whether things turn out great or bad, we must own and accept the choices we make.

I have to end this and flip a coin on my decision. Heads, I mop, tails I grab a book and stretch out on the chaise lounge. Darn it! I’m going for best two out of three.

All I Can Do

Kids bring things to us to fix, a wheel that keeps coming off or maybe a beloved stuff toy in constant need of repair. No matter if it is once or a hundred times, we put it back on or sew it up over and over just to make them happy.

We do the same thing with life in general, worry about what if I can’t find a way through this or figure out how to move forward, and spend endless nights wondering what to do to change the situation.

Writing is no different. We read, change, read again, and question everything down to the placement of a comma. Even when we think, I am finished, there is still that voice in our head muttering, “are you sure?”

So, today’s lesson: I have done all I can do. Whether you’re writing, just living everyday life, or fixing a child’s toy, stop obsessing. Someone will find the error on a page, life will keep moving on around you, and most importantly, admit when to call time of death on a toy because no matter how many times you drag a new one through the mud puddle, leave it outside, let the dog chew on it, or add a little spaghetti sauce stain, they know.

To Delete or Not to Delete

I am heavily into editing my next book. Writing is the easy part, editing is the hardest involving the proverbial Shakespearian moment: To delete or not to delete, that is the question.

For me, I face the decision in the same way as I do everyday life dilemmas. I set aside my feelings, examine the angles of choices, and ask the tough questions. Am I making this choice out of fear or understanding? Will this decision advance or potentially stall?

Whether you are writing or debating the desire to increase the size of the chicken pen, self-honesty is the key. Will changes provide quality to the story? Do I have a serious addiction for Rhode Island Reds? My advice is simple, make friends with the delete button and there is no such thing as too many chickens

The Heat is On.

I do my best thinking when I go for a walk in the woods to hash out a point in a story. The plan is simple, dress, slip on my favorite sneakers, wait for the sun to rise enough for me to see critters and snakes, then take off before it gets too hot. I open the door immediately realizing I am stepping through what feels like a portal to hell. Suck it up buttercup, I walk and think on the story.

The heat and humidity either cause or uncover an underlying attention span disorder of which I am unaware of ever having. I am no longer thinking of the story but distracted by a squirrel running across the trail triggering the question, how do furry animals survive in this heat? This leads to, what animal would I want to be? A turtle, of course, just slinking around doing my thing, cool off in a river, swim with the catfish. Catfish, how do people noodle for catfish and not worry about what might be inside that hole? What if they are alone and get their arm stuck in a hole? Hole, I say to myself and stop walking feeling a startling epiphany. I have gone down a heat driven rabbit hole. Time to go to the house.

Reading, the other Entertainment.

I find joy in reading, transporting to other places, and giving my mind a break from everyday life. My taste in material is eclectic. I will read everything from biographies to dystopian novels. My choice is dependent upon my mood. I am the type of person who retains information better when I read it. Sometimes, it is a blessing and a curse.

One genre I do not seek out very often is horror. There are some great books in the genre and that is the problem, they are written by really good writers who get in my head living like a squatter that I cannot convince to go away for days after reading it. For me this leads to listening for every little noise at night or waking up to go to the bathroom catching my reflection in the mirror.

Any-who, todays point is: Read, let your imagination run wild, and for goodness’ sake, if you’re going to read horror, move the bench at the end of the bed before you break a toe trying to get away from the mirror ghost.

For Everything There is a Season

Have you ever made yourself paranoid and end up scaring yourself? I did this morning.

I have a lot to accomplish today. One of the tasks to do, before setting off on my day, is weed eat around the chicken coop. Mind you, when I weed eat or mow, it is like walking in the woods. I am in my head working on something I want to write and paying absolutely no attention to my surroundings.

Out of the blue, the thought, you might want to watch for a snake, interrupts my head writing. So, paranoia takes over. I step back really paying attention scanning the grass when I feel something brush my leg right above the ankle. I look down and a little over the shoulder. I see something dark, slim, and it moves when I move my foot. SNAKE! I drop the weed eater and take off like an over sugared two-year-old trying to get out of going to bed.

It wasn’t a snake. It was a dried-up old root that flipped up and brushed my leg when I stepped on it.

So, the lesson for today; to everything there is a season. A time to write, a time to think, a time to weed eat, and a time to start working out if I want to outrun a dead tree root.

Tell Me a Story

When we are kids, we ask our parents and grandparents to tell us a story. It is something about hearing their voices bring a character to life we find entertaining and comforting.

Today, the age of the audiobook is here. Not everyone is happy to hold a book in their hand. The audiobook has opened up a world for people who prefer to hear a story. If you think about the evolution of storytelling, it began with people sitting around verbally relaying tales. Then, someone decided to write the stuff down, first on a cave wall then on paper, and now…. Well, we are back to verbally relaying our tales but instead of sitting around the fire telling four people, now millions are listening.

Circle of life people.

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Where We Leave Our Dreams

July 3,

The question today is why did I wait so long to put my stories into print? As a single parent for many years, I focused on taking care of my family. I was thankful for continuing to create stories in my head. That ability helped me deal with the stress of everyday life and made it easier to fall asleep each night by telling myself a story. The desire to write a book remained close to my heart.

It took a while to get here. It may take you a minute to get where you want to be but I say this:  Life sometimes make a person lay their dreams to the side. The important thing is remembering where you left them.

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In the Beginning (again)

It has been a while. I did not stop writing. As we all know, there are unexpected things that happen in life that require our attention. For those who do not know me, my name is B.R. Almond.

My first novel, For the Love of D. H. Lawrence, tells the story of retiring female boxer, Jacqueline (Jake) Conner, facing life after leaving a sport she loves and one that saved her sanity. Life drastically changes and sets off a chain of event where she experiences falling in love for the first time and coming to terms with a past threatening her existence and the life of her younger sister.

For the Love of D. H. Lawrence is available in print and will soon be available via eBook.

 Stay tune, I’ve walked a hundred miles (or so it seems) in the woods and am currently working on a new exciting novel.

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