I7 is not for Vacation

Hi folks:
Forgot to post this last week - I'm on holiday (yes, I have to say it that way, I'm off to the U.K.!) until January 5th!!!
We'll have to see how Danny reacts to Roddy's death after that.
Happy Holidays,
Alex

H7: Hemorrhage, or "Bad News Arrives"

From G7:
"Ugh. Never. It's like he's gotten a boring-graft to his brain." Danny turned, finally, to the morning's work. "No thanks. I'm done with him," he winked at her, despite a twinge of ugliness in his throat. "He just doesn't know it yet."

***

Becca's voicemail hit him like a brain hemorrhage. Roddy's sister. Not the parents, of course.

"Danny? Roddy's - Roddy didn't - Roddy died, Danny. He got in a car accident on the way home."

That was all he heard the first time. It took him two full replays to get through the rest of the details, zombie out of his office and down to the street outside, and dial Becca's number on his phone.

G7: Graft

...from F7... Marina had gone back to the erasable wipe-board sheeting she'd used to cover her half of the desk. "Boring. Call me when it's over, why don't you. Or to tell me you've gotten engaged."

"Ugh. Never. It's like he's gotten a boring-graft to his brain." Danny turned, finally, to the morning's work. "No thanks. I'm done with him," he winked at her, despite a twinge of ugliness in his throat. "He just doesn't know it yet."

F7: Federal

"Really? A fight? But you guys never--"

"No it was a fight," he confirmed as he jabbed the power button on his computer. "'Where is this all going'? and all that. The old elephant in the room."

Marina frowned at Danny.

"Come on... you two have been doing so well this past year."

"I don't know..." Danny slumped in his ergonomic chair. The palette wheels and mock-ups were shreiking his name. "You know how it is. He's so proper and quiet and ... safe?"

Marina stuck out her tongue. "He's been 'safe,'" she injected, "for the last two years. What happened now?"

"So Friday I called him - you know this - to see if he could ditch early. I figured, Sasha's working in London, we might as well have a little fun too. But instead, he's like, it's not a federal holiday," Danny dumped the word like Eeyore, "so he won't leave early, not even an hour.

"Anyway, it's nothing. It just sort of set us off, and we fought all weekend. I just want to do something interesting with my life."

Marina had gone back to the erasable wipe-board sheeting she'd used to cover her half of the desk. "Boring. Call me when it's over, why don't you. Or to tell me you've gotten engaged."

E7: Elephant

Danny stopped arranging his desk in order to formally raise an eyebrow. "Decried, have you?" He laughed. "Well, I do declayah." When she passed him the marked up mock-up, his humor failed. "Seriously?" Whatever mood he'd tried to carry in with him deflated. After the weekend he'd had, he couldn't deal with Sasha's crazy demands right now. "I'm getting another coffee. Roddy and I had a fight."

"Really? A fight? But you guys never--"

"No it was a fight," he confirmed as he jabbed the power button on his computer. "'Where is this all going'? and all that. The old elephant in the room."

Marina frowned at Danny.

"Come on... you two have been doing so well this past year."

D7: Decry

"Pudding!" Marina cried, coming around the plateau of their massive, shared desk. Eyes on the collateral, she added, "We do good work, don't we?" and gave Danny a peck on the cheek.

"We do," Danny smiled. Marina was wearing a fitted purple sweater over a tight, pocked-leather skirt and striped stockings. Her hair was pulled back in tight braids that reminded him of antelope horns. She was ready to fight. "I want you to know, the bosswoman has requested a raft of changes, but I've already decried half of them."

Danny stopped arranging his desk in order to formally raise an eyebrow. "Decried, have you?" He laughed. "Well, I do declayah." When she passed him the marked up mock-up, his humor failed. "Seriously?" Whatever mood he'd tried to carry in with him deflated. After the weekend he'd had, he couldn't deal with Sasha's crazy demands right now. "I'm getting another coffee. Roddy and I had a fight."

C7: Courting

...."Sorry, Europe," Danny sometimes joked with Marina, his office-mate, copy writer, and best friend. Mitch was one of the handsome economists; after recoiling from the "artistic" comment, Danny hurried a bit to his office and Marina's warm, frizzy blonde embrace. All up and down the hall, Barter's color palette repeated a brick red and mustard theme.

He entered their office like they were courting, swaying a bit with his hands clasped behind his back. When she looked up, he proffered a handful of their newest brochures like a bouquet.

"Pudding!" Marina cried, coming around the plateau of their massive, shared desk. Eyes on the collateral, she added, "We do good work, don't we?" and gave Danny a peck on the cheek.

B7: Barter

....(from A7)... "I do the posters." He closed, pointing to the line of blown up advertisements on the wall. They parted at the reception desk.

Danny and Mitch worked in different departments at Barter, a non-profit focused on developing a variety of income sources for the rural poor in Africa, Asia, South America and the U.S. "Sorry, Europe," Danny sometimes joked with Marina, his office-mate, copy writer, and best friend. Mitch was one of the handsome economists; after recoiling from the "artistic" comment, Danny hurried a bit to his office and Marina's warm, frizzy blonde embrace. All up and down the hall, Barter's color palette repeated a brick red and mustard theme.

A7: Artistic

"So you're artistic?" Mitch asked, brushing some droplets from the shoulder of his Patagonia vest. Danny flushed as if he was last-picked boy for the playground kickball team, and busied himself with his phone. The elevator doors finally opened at their shared floor.

"Graphic designer," he shrugged, pointing to his ears with what he hoped was an apologetic, slightly dismissive smile. Danny was the graphic designer; he was short and chubby, wearing a purple bow tie, with jean cuffs rolled up to his knees. Was Danny "artistic"? What did Mitch think? "I do the posters." He closed, pointing to the line of blown up advertisements on the wall.

the Sevens

Rather than dive into A7, I want to be sure I'm making the right commitment for the entire 26-word run of "sevens." If I'm going to continue doing this hundreds of times, I need to keep shaking things up.

So - the plan for the sevens is to write the first 26 sentences (or so... going over is allowed) of a new project. Tomorrow, whatever sentence incorporates A7 must serve as the first sentence of the paragraph, chapter or story that follows with B7. Friday will be C7, and so on, until this particular exploration runs at least 26 sentences long.

A new challenge, then! See you tomorrow morning, ready to write.

Z6: Zygote

(I can't believe I need to look this one up: the cell produced by the union of two gametes, before it undergoes cleavage according to dictionary.com)

Sometimes, Raina felt as if she and Zev were designed like a zygote - recently unioned from disparate sources, and destined to split down the center, and part.

Y6: Yard

In the small patch of thin grass between the stoop and the curb - what my mother dismissively called "that yard" - the dog snuffed at the dried remains of other dogs, and barked, once, at the empty street.

X6: There is no X6

Perhaps my vision will falter a bit here, as we clamber up our alphabet, and the more challenging letters begin to fall away.

She is exotically disfigured, her features almost fish-like, the angles of her face stretching up and away.

At least exotic has an "x".....

W6: There is no W6

Last night I reclaimed some writing time - real writing time - for me. Starting last night, I'm spending 3 hours every Tuesday evening writing across from a former professor at a local coffee shop. No rules other than silence, 3 hours, and talk breaks allowable only every 45 minutes or so.

Our inaugural event was marked by nerves and excitement, and the near-full revision of a story I'd lost touch with years ago. Next week's 3 hours hopefully won't seem as scary.

So "W6" is a win.

V6: Vociferous

"I am not vociferous!" Reston bellowed, which would have made me laugh if not for his size, anger and disorder. I eyed the one older couple sitting in the corner and chucked my chin, granting them permission to go.

U6: Utilitarian

Her body had become something less and more than a body, something utilitarian. She was an elaborate set of wrenches or hammers to be applied to a delicate money-making process. She thought of herself as a drain.

U is not for Flu

Have had the flu for two days. Will resume tomorrow/after the holiday.

T6: Tortoise

The tortoise sat lumped at the side of the road, monolithic, leathery, unblinking.

S6: Sleep

He just wanted to sleep. It was the cinnamon rolls after dinner that did him in. Cinammon roles after pizza. It wasn't like him to eat this way. At least it hadn't been.

R6: Repeat

It was a repeat motif - on the rooftop of Guadi's La Pedrera, a blonde bride leaned against her husband and a sand-colored smokestack sentinel, while the rooftop salon at our riad in Fez became the setting for the bridal photo shoot of a young Chinese couple from Singapore.

Q6: Quote

He didn't want to come off like a fag, quoting Funny Girl or The Way We Were, but that was the language of his new community, he supposed. No more "Brown Eyed Girl" or Phish. Now it was Madonna, Barbara Streisand, and Cher.

P6: Pontiff

Was there some pontiff I was supposed to appeal to? Some old man with wrinkled earlobes who could tell me what to do?

O6: Only

Only a trip to the the Walmart outside Culpepper could make Jamie feel skinny. Only returning to his own neighborhood could make him feel unforgivably fat.

N6: None

Sometimes the words are a jackpot, other times, a dud.

Today's word offers almost no inspiration. In fact, it inspires "none."

M6: Marriage

It wasn't marriage that tired Dennis, it was the fact that Marjorie expected him to think about "their marriage" every single day.

L6: Lift-off

Both of them knew it. Lift-off, which usually freed them, with a chiming silver spring of release, from the pressures of everyday life, wasn't going to be enough this time.

Winter Clothes

Thought I'd refresh the look for winter.
And I think my next challenge, albeit still more than 12 letters away, will be consecutive sentences. I've still got 18 rounds of the alphabet to go. That's 144 sentences. It might just give me a solid start.
New look!

K6: Kill

"I would kill for a moon pie right now," Reston said, the tension in his jaw making Heck wonder if perhaps he really would.

J6: Jag

Not the TV show, not a "crying," but a great, searing gash in the landscape. Something out of Tolkien or a post-apocolyptic movie filmed with white-out heat.

After three days' climb, they crested the hill, only to face the jag, a red-dirt gash in the landscape that separated the brown lands - which they'd been trudging across for days - and the green places they had glimpsed before only in happier dreams.

Two Week Hiatus

It's time for a two-week hiatus. I could attempt to sue many letters to express my reasoning, but I'll only need two. CI. Work promises to bury me these next two weeks, so I'm offering up a blog-hold as an appeasement to the gods. Wish me luck, and we'll get back to fiction (something epistolary, please) on November 9th.

No Letter Weds-Friday

It's been a bad week. Picking up where I left off on Monday. ..sigh...

I6: Impotent

Heck couldn't believe he was, well, that he was....
"It's not working," he slumped onto April, unable to say the word. Their sweat was cooler than it should have been, by far.

H6: Hard

It's not hard, kicking a man when he's down. I've even enjoyed it, once or twice, depending on the height of my heels.

G6: Grand

Get this! I rediscovered an old story today, and realized why, I think, it didn't work. How about this for the final sentence? Does it make you wonder what comes before?


Christie stood somewhere between the table and the sink, the pile of bills at her side, and looked out her clear kitchen window to where the grand, blinking sun shined greenly through the leaves.

F6: Free

Just the quick drive to the ocean did it -- Heck finally, finally felt free.

E6: Election

Since the election, Juliet had been insufferable; now that she could finally vote, she acted as if she was the only one of us who knew how.

D6: Derail

Tomorrow is shaping up to miserable, so despite the Columbus Day holiday, I decided to post "D" tonight. Wouldn't want my best intentions tomorrow to be... derailed. Ugh.

It wasn't the freckles on the girls cheeks that threatened to derail Monica and Trevor's marriage; it was the fact that when he noticed the girl's sun-kissed face, Monica realized she didn't care.

C6: Court

I couldn't believe it - the bluebells, the wine, the solicitation - Graham was courting me! Of course.

B6: Boy

Her cheeks flushed and prickled. What was this, she wondered. He was just a boy.

A6: Afterbirth

"He's a shit, darling, A wanker," Vic whispered in my ear. "He's bloody afterbirth is what he is."

Z5: zig-zag

She's got a zig-zag scar just at her temple there, where a boy with a cricket stick accidentally clubbed her after crashing through our door.

Y5: Yankee

"You telling me you not a Yankee?" Reston asked, one eye tightening and his head rearing slightly back. I watched his face and waited for it to smile.

W5: There is no W5

Perhaps this was intentional somehow. Maybe I knew that as I snuck up on Z, I'd need a moment to pause and think about the next round of the alphabet.
Do I continue writing sentences that keep me loosely connected to my top 3 or 4 story ideas?
I've done random sentences, questions, and more specific sentences.
Am I gaining something by doing this? Is it actually keeping me connected, or just giving me an excuse?

V5: Victim

I've never felt like anybody's victim before. I couldn't believe it was Reston who made me feel that way today.

U5: Utility

He completed each task with utility and nothing more: teeth, brushed; belt, buckled; shoes, laced. The only indulgence he allowed was a few minutes peering at his watery eyes in the mirror, attempting to rearrange his hair.

T5: Tortollini

The dizziness wouldn't go away; he felt as if someone was pressing tortollini inside his left ear.

S5: Snow

It never snowed in London, but today, of all effing days, it would.

R5: Rich

I wasn't positive he was rich, but I won't lie: I'd be chuffed if he was. Last night I dreamed Da was alive and told he he was giving me 100,000 dollars, and I sobbed my face off -- woke up, face wet.

Q5: Quixotic

(...a word I had to double check to be certain I fully understand)

She's herself, my Christina. When she says "quixotic" she actually means to put on a Spanish helmet and find a windmill somewhere.

P5: Policy

I make it a policy not to let my daughter run my life.

O5: Option

"It's not like I have the options you do." Christine pushed the words from her mouth, her flat tongue rejecting each syllable as if she wanted it to be sweet, but it was foul.

N5: Nonsense

"Nonesense," Ted said, distracted by his email. Heck froze. Nonsense was his mother's word.

M5: Matrimony

No fiction tonight: I'm happily approaching my one year anniversary. Matrimony is a very good thing!

L5: Lift

He lifted her effortlessly. His arms took her up like she'd been attached to a trapeze string.

K5:Kitten

A kitten curled its way out from under the crawlspace, mewling, its eyes not fully open, its black and white fur matted crazily on one side.

J5: Job

I need a new job.
Or:
Some days I feel like Job.
Or:
It's not my job, Heck wanted to whine, but knew that a 40-year old man would look pitiful crimping himself up like that around another excuse.

I5: Impossible

"But... nothing's impossible," Dewey half-said, cradling his tea high against the lower portion of his face.
"Please, little brother," Sloane weighed in. "Impossible is the world's middle name."
Her dad smiled at that, and she felt guilt curdle her chest.

H5: Heart

"Too much heart, I guess" she smiled, trying to stop her own from breaking.

G5:Goodness

It wasn't something he'd ever understood about Ted before: there was goodness there, real goodness, the kind you don't see too often in everyday life.

F5: Few

"Few are those of us who still swim beyond this cove," said Whelf, looking away and expelling a sigh.

E5: Electoral

"I mean, duh, Dad," Janey blurted. She'd just spent her freshman year as a Government and Policy major, and the electoral college was clearly old hat.

D5: Dent

Pretty much everything in the shop had a dent somewhere on its body--the refrigerator had a great furrow along its side at calf-height, the beadboard on the front counter had two vertical gashes were the original, blue-green paint showed through. Even front plate-glass windows had a thousand tiny pock-marks from a fifty years of kids riding up and making gravel waves with their bikes.

C5: Cartilege

Sloane pushed her fingers into the skin around her knee, testing the cap, cartilege and ligaments and feeling for spots of pain.

Vacation

Oh. I'm on vacation this week. See you in September!

B5: Bottle

The bottle lay on its side, creeked-lined with black powder, in the small shelter provided by a high city curb.

A5: Afterthought

What is 26 x 5?
130 times I've posted a sentence, or a question, or an idea based on that first alphabet exercise from earlier this year. I've actually been blogging daily for almost eight months. Go me.

So it's not an afterthought, but it does offer an opportunity to reflect. Am I gaining what I need to by writing this blog? Is my connection to fiction - tenuous, anxiety-ridden - kept afloat by writing these sentences?

Or are they allowing me to avoid the real, hard work of writing actual story every day?

Afterthought: Muriel felt like an afterthought most days. And most days she relished the fact that her status was her own choice.

Z4: Zebra

It was one of those "loft-style" buildings near downtown, with 20 foot ceilings, exposed air ducts; in the lobby, she nearly faltered before stepping on a giant faux-zebra rug sprawled across the lobby floor.

Y4: Yen

Muriel had a yen for rutabaga.

(Opening to her chapter 3 or 4, when she meets Chigger?)

Y, Z!

We're near the end of another (a 4th) round of the alphabet, and I'm going to stick with this approach. Writing sentences that will/could/might apply to the novel project I'm otherwise not really working on. It's keeping me thinking about Dewey, Muriel, Chigger and Sloane, and that's good enough for me.

X4: Xerxes

Well, it's not as if the novel is set post "300" with Gerard Butler, so I probably shouldn't assume a gay boy would want a body like Xerxes, so....

He strode toward her, an Alexander or Xerxes with legspan a thousand miles long, and didn't stop until she could feel his breath on her eyelashes and cheeks.

V4: Valentine's Day

"I have nothing to say about Valentine's Day," Muriel said, trying to make her eyes into hot boulders blinding in the sun.

T4: Tortilla

Their father fingered the edge of his first tortilla like he was peering under a junker's hood.

S4:Snowplow

Chigger walked past the garage, where a million useless things catcalled from their shiny, brightly lit perches. His eyes cruised the offerings: pristine rakes in three sizes, green riding mower and leaf blower rustling in the corner, a footstool leaning against two ladders, a gray metal workbench surmounted by a wall of perfectly hung tools. There was a snow plow dozing in the other corner, a snow plow in Seattle. All that, and room for four cars. These people made him sick.

R4: Resonate

It didn't resonate. As her mother lit up with the family's "one big trip" to the Grand Canyon, and how "Sloaney" was afriad of the donkeys," Sloane knew she was supposed to swoon. Toward this memory, sun-shot, familial, rustically warm. But it meant nothing. That trip, she'd been obsessed with a boy named Jared who was staying in the neighboring tent. She'd spent a week twinging every time they neared the campsite, sunburned, her nails bit to the quick.

Q4: Quickly

Quickly, he shoved the pink tongues of his dress shirt bottom back into his jeans, flushing from his cheeks into the roots of his fuzzy hair.

P4: Post

What comes to mind is Lionel Shriver's "The Post-Birthday World," which, though it took me a while, I loved.

"Post" could be so many things - a quick trip to the X office, the occurence of a fight x-grocery shop. What will Muriel, Sloane, Dewey, Warren, Chigger and ? do "post"?

Post-riots, Seattle was - briefly - a quieter, smaller town.

O4: Obstruct

She didn't want to obstruct things, but sometimes it felt like progress was actually something that moved us, all of us, backwards instead of helping to simply make life work. Muriel flushed. She was pretty sure the "all of us" that lived in Africa or Appalachia wouldn't necessarily agree.

N4: Necessary

"Is it really necessary to belittle us, Dad?" Sloane jammed the tablecloth into the washer, knowing Muriel would have preferred she soak it in the backyard tub. "I mean, does it make you feel better somehow?"

M4: Mating

For all that Dewey's body spun wildly, careeningly electric, he was also disgusted with himself at his core; as his parents would say, what he was doing was sex, not romance - mating in place of making love.

L4: List

Before I write my sentence, I should recognize that despite the tumult of life lately, this blog has kept me connected to writing, and to fiction, in a real and gratifying way.

Even better, this latest iteration, the 4th round of my 50 words per letter exercise, is holding some of my "I'll never write again" fears at bay. Every day it pulls my mind back toward Muriel and Dewey and Chigger, and now their new counterparts Sloane and... well, I don't know if either Warren or Cole will survive.

Today's list, then, could be a number of things:

Muriel listed the ingredients slowly, watching the boys and girls eyes widen and waiting for the giggling to start.

Dewey kept a list in his pocket, of all the things he'd now never be able to do.

Sloane knew the list by heart: bachelor's degree, medical school, residency, intern.

And who else?

Warren listed all the ways he'd failed.

OK, ok, I skipped Friday. But 4 sentences on a Saturday is a pretty good deal.

K4: Kite

I'm not sure what to do with "kite." Who in the novel flies a kite? Who even would?

Sloane might be shocked to have become someone who knocks over a wine glass at dinner and nearly wants to cry.

Muriel? Maybe Muriel imagines running over a hill with her new son or daughter, a kite flying behind them and tugging her high?

J4: Junior

Chigger was sick of being the junior member of the family - of society. He was tired of being smaller than everyone and hating his ugly, curled-in hand.

I4: Indigo

Already, she missed summer. The shining lumps of red and yellow and green-zebra tomatoes, the exuberant, strapping corn, and the sensual indigo of eggplant. It was only November, and she felt as if another summer would never come.

H4: Hardscrabble

It wasn't as if Chigger had grown up in some hardscrabble, down-on-its-luck town. He'd gone to a good school. Taken karate and trumpet lessons. Mom and Dad had loved him. At least, well, until.

G4: Golly Gee

He looked like the kind of guy who'd say "golly-gee willikers" - ruddy face, pale eyelashes, neatly parted, thinning hair.

F4: Feeling

Another lame word, but I'll try.

Sloane had a feeling there was someone in the house. "Dewey," she asked the empty kitchen and dark hall. "Mur?"

E4: Electronic

It was the first time Muriel had been greatful for the whole confusing world of the web. Somehow, she was electronically connected to people in her situation all over the world. If "electronic" was even the word. As quickly as things were moving, "electronic" sounded like the olden days, giving off a whiff of gas lamps and soot.

D: Deny

He couldn't deny that it felt good, that it felt amazing, but even as the man's hands climbed his stomach and chest like a cliff face, Dewey felt a sick welling, like a chill and sickly deepwater well, flooding him from within.

C4: Cartwheel

She wanted to do cartwheels, she wanted to sing. A few unevenly ascending "la - la - las" actually escaped her mouth.

B4: Betray

Dewey felt betrayed. By himself. His parents. Even Sloane.

But most of all he felt betrayed by Ronnie, the boy he'd hoped he could love.

A4: Absolute

She was absolutely exhausted. Her fingers ached as if they'd spent the day with chickens scratching in the dirt.

Round 4: Reinspire

Just back from a weekend away with Matt's family, and I return actually inspired. Reading a fantastic novel called "Border Crossing," with some of the richest, realest characters I've discovered in a long time. Not since THE VANISHING ACT OF ESME LENNOX have I been this deeply inspired for my own writing.

So: Round 4 of this word game we established in January? Sentences that apply to the largely reimagined TREE MUSEUM story.

BORDER CROSSING toggles multiple characters much more deftly than my novel-draft does, and it ties those characters - binds them - together along both plot and metaphorical lines. That's what my novel needs to do.

So, the next 26 entries will be sentences from the restart of a novel-in-progress.

Please, please, please. Wish me luck.

X3: Questioning .....

There is no 3rd "x" word on my list. All I managed was "xenophobic" and "Xerxes." Ah well.

Starting Monday, what theme will I take on for "A4"???

Y3: Questioning Yellow

Golly, this switching around of letters gets confusing.

Was I really as much happier in the yellow shirt I wore in my profile picture? If I wear it to St. Louis, will I be happy again there?

Z3: Questioning Zen

Zen... hah! I can barely imagine the word. Zen is for... vacation? Zen is for... luckier folks than me? Zen is... another thing to make me feel guilty for not living the life I should lead?

(And there you have it folks. "Should." A word I'd nearly managed to excise from my life 8 years ago, which has now fully, disappointingly, oozed its way back in.)

W: Why Did I Forget W?

Running into that old "W" problem again... apparently when I blog an alphabet, I forget that "w" should fit right in after "v."

So to question "w" is, perhaps, about questioning my focus? My attention to detail? My ability, in context of this whitewater job of mine, to hold my focus on anything not related to work?

Not a good morning for creativity. At 7:23 a.m., I'm already 3 crises in.

V3: Questioning Valentine's Day

Luckily, I don't have to question it, now that I've got Matt.
But for others, I do wonder whether it's the best thing all around, the way we continue to celebrate a hearts and flowers notion of love.

T3: Questioning Tarantula

I don't really have questions about tarantulas.

I like them. I've touched one - stroked its soft, dense hair.

But I don't really have questions about them: are they endangered? do they dream?

I do remember one of the old Piers Anthony Xanth novels which featured a giant jumping spider, but I don't think he was a tarantula. Was Shelob a tarantula, swollen by the ages in Tolkien's world?

Ah, questions. Once I manage u, v, x, y, and z, will I keep questioning the words? Or do I need to root around and find another trick from somewhere up my sleeve?

S3: Questioning Sycophant

I'm not even sure how to approach this one. Do I referenc Grima Wormtongue and Theoden from Rohan? Some other obsequious right-hand-man? In my life, I can't name a sycophant, thankfully. Not even at work, which I suppose is a very good thing.

R3: Questioning Resonate

What things resonate?

Memories? Smells? Passion? Music, certainly, but is it any music that resonates - the simpleness of there being a chime of some kind?

What makes a moment or story resonate with someone? What are you tapping into when you write something that echoes in someone's mind?

Q3: Questioning Quicklime

Isn't quicklime something you throw on a wound?

Or is quicklime something you thrown on a snail? As fertilizer for your garden? A weed-killer?

Turns out, quicklime does have a (somewhat antiquated) agricultural use, but is also an element of many construction materials.

So - what is my quicklime? The slightly noxious building block of my life?

P3: Questioning Poor

I won't even begin to question the roots or meanings of poverty, although I do wonder about both.

What I do wonder about it poverty of the spirit.

Matt's parents would say (I imagine) that without Jesus, a person is spiritually poor. Others might say the same of those who don't recognize great art. Am I poorer in my daily actions because I feel I've glimpsed true beauty and the divine, but don't live in such a way that always honors that?

Or are the truly impoverished those without the opportunity to even question such things?

O3: Questioning Obliterate

Each time I read a passage from Poets & Writers or a great novel, all my fears are obliterated, and I can see this shimmering path/place where my words and ideas are lit with golden fire. I don't know how to stay in that place, though.
How do you obliterate doubt and fear?

N3: Questioning Navigate

How do we navigate the hard situations in life? The happy times require no exertion. They ripple and ease and lift any burdens upstream.

Hard times take navigation. Tension on the rudder. A rigorous gaze.

I worry that I'm not so good at navigating - that, to date, I've been able to ride the flow.

M3: Questioning Mate

Do we mate for life?

God, I hope so. Not only because "Matt" has an aural echo to "mate," but because I just appreciate him so much. Maybe I'll deliver him that new nickname - "Mate."

Or "matey"? To give it an ironic, playful veneer?

L3: Questioning Limit

I think we all question our limits. If not, we're inevitably accepting them too easily.

I wouldn't know how to define my limits - and I'm not sure whether I owe thanks to my Mom for that, or blame.... Believing you can do anything gets harder as the years go by.

Still, I don't believe in personal limits, per se, so I suppose it's time to push through some of the imagined limits I've let take over as I get older: too tired, out of ideas, too busy.

Is it time to blast open the idea of "limits" once and for all?

K3: Questioning Kryptonite

Is laziness my kryptonite? Or the insidious belief that once I've done something a single time, I no longer have to prove my ability to do it again?

J3: Questioning Jonquil

It's a good thing I'm questioning "jonquil," since I don't actually know what it means.

...a flower, a narcissus. Elegant and refined. Who knew?

I don't feel very much like a jonquil these days. More of a potato spud. All this heat.

I3: Questioning Indigent

We were talking with a friend of a friend yesterday, who it turns out had attended the same lesbian-Quaker-Unitarian wedding we had two summers ago. As we discussed it, we laughed at the memory of the one of the bride's "hobo uncle" - and his shaggy, mid-ceremony arrival.

He was a funny, smart, troubled man, who chose an indigent lifestyle rather than play by society's rules.

As Matt and I continue to question his career and our location, I sometimes wonder if my indigent days are behind me because I've grown up, or because I've become calcified.

Who stays indigent? How long can you make it last?

H3: Questioning Hit

Was my first novel a hit?
Has my confidence taken a hit?
Why do my dreams often hit me with fears about Matt?
Why does the word "hit" make me think of do-wop and bobby socks?
And.
Worst of all,
Will I ever write again?

G3: Questioning "Gosh"

The reason I've been MIA for a few days actually has a great deal to do with the word "gosh."

I've been in Chicago writing, reviewing, and revising a speech for our Chairman and CEO - a speech in which the word "gosh" was inserted, deleted, re-inserted, and questioned multiple times.

You don't often hear people saying "gosh" anymore, do you? I mean, aren't we all a bit too arch for that these days? Too cynical? Too mature?

Yet "gosh" our CEO did, and it was a folksy rhetorical flourish that really worked.

So.

Gosh, what we could accomplish if we let ourselves fail to be cool once in a while.

F3: Questioning Flexing

I have not been flexing my fiction muscles, have I?

I have been writing, a ton, all day every day it seems, when I'm not editing writing or planning writing or considering writing that's already been done.

But I don't write fiction. Where are the ladies of "Gare du Nord"? (Recently rejected, lovingly and regretfully, once again.) What happened to Zues? Does Muriel have a baby she miscarried or aborted?

Flexing muscles is important because without them, you don't have the strength for heavy lifting. Can I write a speech for the CEO? Sure, give me a few hours. But can I spin anything personally meaningful out of thin air. To be determined. To be "worked out."

E3: Questioning EBay

This just goes to show you how valuable it is to put in the hard work the first time around.

EBay? I have no questions about Ebay. Despite this little blog, I quite actively resist all things electronical. :)

I do wonder, however, if I am missing something by not engaging more fully in the online world. Would all those comics I so carefully bagged and boxed in the 1980s fetch me a pretty penny if I accepted EBay in my life?

D3: Questioning Destiny

What does it even mean to have a destiny?

There have been times I've believed wholeheartedly that certain things were meant to be: my time in Provincetown, writing my novel, finding Matt.

More often than not, however, destiny - the sense of utter and complete proper fit - is elusive and exasperating. If there are all these things I'm supposed to be, then why am I here, working like a madman in support of someone else's dream?

I admit that I am one of the lucky ones. I actually DO care about the work that I do. But if my destiny is to be an oft-vacationing novelist, I'm clearly mighty far from hitting the mark.

C3: Crap

Does life ever feel like a pile of steaming crap?

Why yes, young grasshopper, it does. In fact, both Matt and I have felt buried in unpleasantness of late, despite this final bloom of perfect sunny spring.

Anyone else out there torn between singing birds and loads of unease?

B3: Questioning Belittle

Why do people belittle one another?

It's an easy question to ask, but an uncomfortable one to answer. Some of my characters do it - one in particular comes to mind, but I've never understood why he does it, and that's always held the story back. I know he's a dick, but I don't know what made him that way.

Why do real people belittle each other? To make themselves feel better? Learned behavior? A weakness for an easy joke?

I wish I knew. Maybe I could stop myself from doing it, as well.

A3: Questioning Amazing

What does it mean to be amazing at something? Is it a relational judgment? Amazing suggesting: "better than almost everyone"?

Or, is being "amazing" something more internal and personal - something maybe only one other person in the whole wide world can see?

Hopefully, we are all told we are amazing at some point in our lives - in response to a song sung, a diorama, the span of a running leap, a project completed under deadline. But what is it to be deeply amazing as a fact of life?

Can anyone make that claim?

Z2: Zone

Zone not one set of friends from another; keep not the extended members of your family away.

W: Who, What, Where, Why, When?

Apparently, I neglected to write my 50 "W" words - perhaps the lingering pain of the Bush II years?

It's timely, however, as I've been considering next steps for the 3rd round of the alphabet game. My thinking of late has been that it might be more vibrant a project if I were to write questions using the required words (A3, B3, C3, etc) to see if it sparks any interest in the wider world.

The blog is intentionally internal facing, but maybe it's time to open that up?

Alex

V2: Virgin

Virgin he would always remain.

U2: Unified

Unified in their mission of adventure, the two boys set out heartily just after breakfast, determined to reach the far edge of the field.

T:2 Terrific

I accidentally typed "terrrific" with three Rs, and it made me nostalgic for youth, sweet cereal, and long mornings waiting on Mom or for friends to arrive.

Terrific, it is, to remember the younger days, but much harder to recapture their joy.

S2: Synecdoche

Seriously?

Synecdoche, a word I'm not even certain I can spell. (It's spelled correctly here, thanks to google.)

A synecdoche (which I want to pronounce sin-eck-doshe) refers to a specific thing used to reference the whole, or the whole to reference a something specific. The example I read was "Croesus" for "a rich man" or "rich men."

So how does one start a sentence with "synecdoche"?

Maybe this is the exercise today, to think about the idea of synecdoche. What "specific" do I use to refer to the whole?

R2: Regain

What does it take to regain your faith in yourself? Regain your commitment to exercise when you'd rather lie on the couch? Regain your enthusiasm for the novel that keeps slip-sliding away?

Regain your commitment little grasshopper: Only you could have let it slip away.

Q2: Quick

Another less-than-inspired day. I keep looking at the new novel, then looking away. One sentence, Alex, just one:

Quick now, children, into the cupboard, you must'nt dilly-dally all day.

P2: Pontificate

What do I have to pontificate about? Nothing, really. I'm feeling guilty for not working yesterday afternoon - a wasted exercise, no doubt. And wondering about the best way to navigate forward professionally these days, at a job I *mostly* love. Pontificate feels pointed, and a bit pompous (all words, at least, that start with "p"!), and not like the opening of any sentence I'd naturally write.

"Pontificate?" He asked, his voice rising in indignation? "Pontificate," he huffed. "Not I!"

Ah well. Not every day can win.

O2: On

Another dullsville word, but -- and why is this the case? -- another easy one. Are the least interesting words the most apprehendable? Do our minds, whether as writers or speakers or just people navigating a given day, automatically default to those simple constructions ("on," "the") that are most populous?

It lends a certain additional value to this process, for me. Yes, it's a bit of a game to keep me writing, but it's also keeping me writing: deeply engaging with words.

On his way into the shop that morning, Nate's foot and leg gave way for a tiny, terrifying second, as if all the strength had left him, as if his ability to move forward was being toyed with or yanked away.

N2: Nascent

Words are fun, after all. What a neat run. And "N" seems appropriate as I've rediscovered the novel project starring "Nate." Here we go:

Nascent as relationships go, there was something airy and expectant in the way they walked together down the trail between the trees.

M2: Mustard

This one makes me happy, since this morning I actually wrote! And what I wrote about was Nate and his family. And Nate runs a deli. And delis are certainly one place where "mustard" is not in short supply.

"Mustard, mayo-naze, ket-chup, pickles, pickle relish, and shredded lettuce," says Reston, repeating the same paranoia-reassuring litany he requests for his turkey and salami sandwich every day.

L2: Limn

Finally, a word that excites me - even its sound has a shimmering, eye-opening feel: "limn."

Limn this man on canvas, daughter, but take care to capture both his physical carriage and his soul.

K2: Krypton

Krypton is the extinct home of Superman, and rocks from the planet can kill him; What is my kryptonite, my achilles heel?

J2: Journalism

"Journalism precipitated my downfall," intoned Zues Mabley, from the highest step of the courthouse in downtown Greun.

Because

I spent all last night talking about being a writer (thanks, Tom) today I have no sentence in me. I do, however, have renewed hope for The Last Place I Looked, Zues Mabley, and Resuscitating the Wren.

I2: Inveterate

To be honest, I'm not 100% sure what "inveterate" means. I guess that's my reward for whining about being bored.

Inveterate as my Grandfather was in his views about the latest war, I was equally staunch in my opposition; in the weeks since he'd moved in to our house, my mother had left the kitchen table more than once in tears.

H2: Had

Guh!!

This is boring. I can't wait to dive deep into those lists and swim up with my fist clutched around "heliotrope" like glistening, vitamin-rich seaweed.

Had I only a less rigid plan for this process, I might be feeling more inspired.

Thankfully, it's a gorgeous day, and the fantasy novel is swirling as something that might read nicely for the YA (young adult) crowd.

G2: Great

I do hope the words become more interesting as a move further through the list. I feel like this is an exercise in lowest-common-denominator writing thus far. I mean, seriously. "Good" then "great"?


"Good," she spat, her voice low; I could see the small hairs rise at the back of her neck.

F2: Funny

"Funny," she whispered, as her eyes traced the laundry that crowded the floor.

E2: Episodic

Episodic communication is like sporadic belief: it will never take you where you want to go.

And - should Nate's name be Marshall? Or something like Whit?

D2: Defy

Defy convention?

Defy your parents?

Defy the idea that there is a right way to live a life?

Defy nothing, if you don't wish to stake a claim in your own life.

C2: Can't

I can't stand how boring this is when I'm limited to words like can't. (What a cantankerous curmudgeon I've become!)

B2: Belittle

In light of the week's news, he felt belittled, unwanted, undervalued, spent.

A2: Airport

Wow.
I've smoothly looped the alphabet and returned to "A," only to stumble into "airport" as my word of the day. Do I need to adapt this somehow? Use the word in a sentence rather than necessarily requiring myself to begin each sentence with the word?
Is that a cop-out, or a realistic way to free up the language?

I've driven three times to pick her up at the airport; the third time, she never arrived.

Zipper

"Zipper, pull, zipper, pull," she repeated, her hands on his tiny, midly jointed, innocent little boy hands.


... I do look forward to testing myself on some more agreeably moldable words.
Tomorrow, back to "A."

Usurp

Turns out, I forgot U (in sequence) but luckily had done a quickie that began with "usurp." So:

Usurp not power that you cannot hold; Hold not power you don't deserve.

Does that sound at all like it could be a fantasy novel's key quote?

Friday was a holiday!

I wasn't a slacker! It was a holiday, people. Matt and I were in Gettysburg learning way too much about 1860s war.
Tomorrow: "W." Oh, What Will I say?

Victory

Victory Stefanski was the third daughter of third-generation Polish-immigrant parents; her name was more a weak prayer of acceptance, less a defiant, red-and-blue bouquet.

Unexpected, Usurp

Unexpected news came today: Martha Johnson, the old lady who ran the little store on the way to the cabin, died this morning while sitting in her favorite chair.

Terrible

"Terrible" is the things we do to one another in the name of belief, or the belief that other ideas somehow invalidate our own.

(Forgive the proselytizing, it's just what came to mind!)

Slip

"Slip," she said, as if checking the word off a list; as if something that stunned Erik's eyes with its sliding heen and beauty, something that whispered over his mother's fingers and seemed to call out to be touched, could be reduced to a single syllable, a dismissal from her lips.

Relinquish

Relinquishing some of those ideas -- that you should have driven the whole way last night, that he really does still love you, that your mother is a whore -- is the only path to claiming who you are.

Quince, quantify, quintuplets, quazar

It took me four days to accrue 50(ish) words that begin with "Q," and two days to regain my computer and write a sentence that begins with one.

Quince do not grow here, the crusty old man said, quince come from the valleys outside of town.

Perennial

Perennial is the pain of not doing, not pursuing, not knowing all the possibilities of what might, just might, have been.

Only

Sunday night, building a cache for Monday through Wednesday, as I'm loaning my computer out and likely to forget this particular charge.

Only a grown man can act so completely like a little shit.

O is not for Optional

But an optional ending for "The Tree Museum"?
3rd person.
And it turns out, 2 people did die.

Nave

Nave, sacristy, sanctuary, crypt: I have walked these cold stones for decades, seeking warmth.

Music

There is too much to say about music. Suffice to say, I haven't been to a concert in over a year, but last week I saw both Lisa Hannigan, an Irish singer-songwriter with the voice of an angel, and... Britney Spears. Music is a mutable thing.

So is that my sentence?

Music is a mutable thing?

Or:

Music rages out of Juliet's room, then quiets to a lyrical moan, then mutates into an energetic frippery that bounces off the walls as my daughter clearly bounds around her bed.

Link

Link the carnage to the hope to tell the truth about our lives.

...huh? Where does this stuff come from?

Killjoy

Killjoy said to Pollyanna, there's no need to even try.

Jeffersonian/Journal

Today I have a choice. I wrote a single "J" word one day, and a second-first "J" word the next.
Given that "Jeffersonian" is an adjective, I'm giving myself an "a"....

A Jeffersonian journal was unearthed in the attic of a farmer in rural Virginia -- wrapped in newspaper and oiled cloth, flaking and losing the script toward the edges, and detailing a lifelong, illicit love affair.

In

In truth, he couldn't imagine the next few hours; the weight, the wetness, the stink of it all.

Hello

The blog that required 50 words beginning with "H" began with the single sentence:
"Hello friends."
I'm going to keep that for today's post, in part so I can devote my few minutes to some thoughts about this exercise.
"Hello darkness my old friend."
The requirement -- which I will hold to -- that each sentence begin with, rather than incorporate the day's word, actually feels more limiting than inspiring. Perhaps it could be both - I'm sure authors of strict poetic forms find pleasure in the stricture only after diligent work.
"Hello, Gorgeous!"
But I'm wondering if my goal here isn't pure play - pure inspiration?
And shouldn't working through these 1,000+ words maintain some element of play?
He-looo??
For the rest of this alphabet cycle, I'll stick with this set of rules. But for the "2nd word cycle" I might just shake things up.
"Hello, opportunity," she whispered in my ear.

Good

Good for me for doing this every day!
(I have to trust the word selections will get more interesting with time.)

Funny

Funny hours collapse like sweet-grit cotton candy; harder hours extend.

Electronic

I'm writing again today, after last night's "episode" post, since (a) technically "episode" was a word provided by Matt, and (b) I had another panicky moment last night - why am I doing this at all?
Yes, it's fun, and mind-stretchy, to pluck a sentence and polish it the way I've been doing the last week.
Yes, I can see a clear, long-lasting path whereby I create five sentences a week in near perpetuity, one letter at a time.
But I also have to ask my self "why"?

Electronic communication is no more real -- and in many ways less so -- than other forms, and something as purely computerized as a blog seems even more utterly removed from the reality of my life.

So, there. My first memoir-lite sentence. Electronic communication seems less real.

Why, then, am I doing it after all?

Episode

"Episode?" she shrieked at me, her eyes bugging, the mascara sloughing like dirty snow from her eyes.

Devil

"Devil came to me last night," he said, idly swinging my grandfather's heavy wooden bat.

Can

Can I pick a less interesting "C" word?

Begin

Begin here: She grew up spooling bicycle circles on the manicured loops of the White House lawn.

A is for Apple

Round Two begins today. A sentence that begins with the first word from the first letter of this process. So: "Apple."

I worry that this structure I've imposed on myself will become restrictive, but I hope not. I hope, in actuality, for the opposite - that requiring myself to follow an arbitrary set of "rules," some unexpected pleasures will present themselves.

The system: Every day, Monday through Friday, I will write one sentence beginning with the first word from the appropriate letter, A -Z. Correction: I will write at least one sentence. Maybe more.

Today, "apple," tomorrow, "begin."

Apple said to orange, you are not like me.

"Apple," she said, unfolding her palm to receive the pock-marked fruit.

Won't You Come and Play With Me

That's it! A full round of the alphabet (accepting my compression of X, Y, and Z), 50 words at a time.
Starting tomorrow.. sentences! One word from the prior list, starting with A and running through Z. We'll keep putting the old vocabulary on the rack and making it stretch.

X, Y, and Z

I figured I had to be realistic, right?

zipper
zone
zen
zebra
zig-zag
xylophone
xantham (gum)
yes
yesterday
yellow
yen
yankee
yard
yard-arm
yowl
yak
yip
zygote
zoology
zooplankton
zoo(!)
zoot suit
yokel
yodel
zero
zoetrope
xenophobic
Xerxes (come on, he's the God-King who fought the spartans? could be an adjective of a kind..?)
...28....
yawn
yap
yip
yenta
yeshiva
zest
yeast
zit
ziggurat
zealous
young
youth
you (which should share an exclamation point with zoo!)
...41....
(I'll be back - for the record, post-28 is round 2)
yank
yell
yarrow
(that last three? round three)
zoom
zephyr
yet
yarn
yawlp (as in Thoureau's great "barbaric"...?)
zionist
....that's 50, but I hate to end it there. Maybe I'll solicit Friday's helper for a few ideas...

"V"

Remember that TV show, "V" with the women who pulled off their fake faces and were actually lizard monsters? Well, my friend Jen is helping me with "V" today. Read into that what you will.

V
victory
virgin
Valentine's Day
vest
victim
vociferous
voice
volume
vocal
vengeance
vapid
value
venue
view
vestal
vestibule
vestige
vent
veil
vale
vole
vacuum
vantage
vein
vain
vainglorious
vanity
villian
vilanelle
vigorous
vigor
vagaries
valuation
vocalization
vary
varied
vagrant
voluminous
vector
vortex
Vatican
vendor
victor
....43.... Jen is very helpful!
very
variant
variance
vibrant
venti (as opposed to tall and grande, of course...)
vulgar
vulture
vulva
vulnerable (all of these are Jen's, by the way, I'm totally slacking)
vespers
vat
vow
vacillate
...56, and now back to work. ...sigh....
Until Monday.

Tomorrow, "V"

"W" on Friday, and on Monday, I think I'll allow myself the combined "XYZ."
Then next week, I need to start making sentences out of all these words.

U Part 2

usurp
usurious
...this is too hard without Monday's "U" to refer to.
I'll be back.
(26!)

T

terrible
terrific
tarantula
tortilla
tortolini
tortoise
turtle
tantrum
tantric
tempestuous
temper
tempest
thunder
thunderstorm
tapestry
Triassic
tantamount
tantalizing
taper
table
tab
tablet
talcum
torn
tear
tee pee
teal
tender
tenderize
tendency
tent
temporary
testosterone
test
teen
teenager
teflon
tether
telephone
telegraph
television
terror
tone
tonal
Tonto (..eh)
tincture
tissue
tilt
tile
tithe
title
total
totalitarian
tote
toke (as in, "take a --- Harold and Kumar")
topiary
tusk
ton
tumult
tumultuous
....let's see. 60! Thank you "T"!
Oh...
thank
...we'll call it 61.

Oopsie

Today was due to be "T," a much lighter lift than "U."
So. I'll do "T" tomorrow, then revisit "U" on Wednesday, to give me the chance to collect some little, fleet-footed "u"s.

Snow Day!

...or at least, snow two-hour delay!
Unexpected, to say the least.

Unexpected
unified
unfiltered
ugly
utility
utilitarian
unitarian
universalist (that's me)
usurp
uprising
up
uppity
upset
unspool
usual
upbraid
udder
unctous (spelling? is this even a word?)
uncouth
unclear
unclean
unity
unilateral
...24. I decent first pass for "U." I worry, frankly, about .... hold on. Hold on! Was today supposed to be "T"???

Slipsliding Away

...that would be time.
How did Friday arrive without a post between Tuesday and Thursday? I honestly feel as if I've lost three days. To "S."

slip
synecdoche
sycophant
snowplow
snow
sleep
slippery
stone
sophomoric
sensibility
sensible
sestina
socratic
sentry
seep
steep
steel
starling
star
... I wonder whether these lists accrue rhythm, or tone? Do they develop a cadence or rhyme scheme? Should they? Could that be a goal?
swelter
sweep
swoop
semolina
soar
sap
sage
sag
saga
saint
soul
separate
seventeen
sentence
sixteen
surreptitious
serpentine
sale
sales
salesman/salesmen
salsa
semifreddo
snowcone
sarcasm
sarcastic
sarcophogous
saracen
... another fantasy novel staple, and historical I believe.
staple
sartorial
splendor (and... "sartorial splendor")
sugar
sweets
somewhere
solace
solitude
sorrow
savor
.... 57 at first try. Thank you, "S." And I will attempt not to lose any of the weeks in March.

Relinquish, Regain

The "R" words feel full and rich and resonant, and yes I'll use all 4 of the above.
Eighteen letters into the alphabet and I feel, generally, reconnected to writing in a way I haven't in a long time. As if the simply act of putting down words each day, of asking my mind to think of language for myself rather than for the job, is opening up my mind once again. A character in the new project I'm working on is named "Reston," a name I came up with this weekend while musing on the letter "R."

relinquish
regain
resonate
resonant
...the aforementioned
rich
... followed by
repeat
repetitive
repetition
repeal
replete
replenish
recognize
recompense
restitution
real
roam
roan
roar
refinance (would that I could)
rest
reconstitue
renegade
register
relegate
rise (above?)
roil
reunite
rope
romp
reel
rein
reign
regress
royal
refute
reputation
roast
remnant
recoil
repute
rabies
rabid
rabbit
raffle
rakish
remote
....46... and that with a work interruption to throw me off my game..
reconnaisance
rennaisance
restoration
rappel
rim
rich
rife
riposte
rook
room
roost
rooster
ruminate
rhyme.

That will do for today. I'd rather find a comfy chair and work with Reston, but that will have to wait.

Sunday, 9:09 a.m., "Q"

and...
quaff
...makes 32!

For "Q," I feel alright with 32. Watch out tomorrow when I'm set loose on "R"!

Saturday at 3:47, "Q"

quazar
quagmire
queen
.... of all she surveys?

Saturday at 2, "Q"

quintuplets
quintessential
Quahog (home of the "Family Guy" family)
quail.

... and that's what a long run and mid-afternoon shower will do!

Friday night, 11:30, "Q"

quantify
qualify
quarantine
quantity
quantum
quiz
quicken
quoth (the raven, nevermore)

Q, part 1

quince
quick
quicklime
quickly
quixotic
quote
quotation
quotable
quid
...pro...
quo
quorum
quality
quiver
quaver
quay
quip
.... that'll do for now. When I imagined "Q" I thought I'd falter after just a few.
Off to work.

P

perennial
pontificate
poor
post
policy
pontiff
pest
pester
peel
pent
poke
pain
pail
pay
payment
(The) Payless (Shoe Source)
permanent
permafrost
peg
pirate
picnic
pinch
pony
pine
Pine-Sol
prevaricate
(going) postal
perineum
peekaboo
police
picture
picturesque
pit
pity
pillage
pill
pillory
pants (meaning underpants in Britain)
pansy (odd, that I go from "pants," and thoughts of Martin in London in '04, to "pansy")
periwinkle
peony
parlay
parsley
persimmon
pumice
puke (a word? a word.)
purse
pursestrings ... as in, tied to Mommy's...
...48! Drat! I thought today was my day.
portal
port
portage
pacifist
pacify
peace
....please?

That'll do, Pig, that'll do.

"O" what a bad Alex I've been

No blogging yesterday, and no excuse. I'll only say that my back went out Monday evening and I'm only just feeling human again. "Only" starts with "O." I'm also going great guns with the new story idea, which has me quite, if cautiously, hopeful. It's growing in shape, the names are solidifying, the arc may or may not be coming into form.

For today, however, "O":

only
oddly
ogle
opportunity
option
opine
opinion
oligarchy
olive
old
Osso Buco
oak
oar
order
oaf
oats (! ... as in "sow your wild...")
oafish
ore
original
originate
origin (being the source of the preceding words...)
obstruct
occlude
occupation
od...
.... and as I'm writing these words, thinking through my "O's", I have this sense of deja vu. So I pause, and I check the roster of posts, and lo (rhymes with "O"), I did "O" on Monday.

Today is supposed to be "P". I'm not sure I'm going to do "P" today. It might wait for Thursday, given the joy Nate and Juliet are offering me right now. Perhaps I'll make start the story's next sentence with a word that starts with "P"? Keep posted!

O

A holiday Monday, President's Day, and the coffee shop is buzzing. Matt's at the office, glum, and I'm having lunch later with the boys. Today's goal - get some traction on the new story idea.

But first, "O":

office

on

obliterate

obstruct

ode

only

oleander

Olympic/Olympics

old

olden

onerous

odor

odalisque

oboe

obey

oat

oaf

omit

overlay

omen

order

orders

oak/oaken/oaky

Oaxaca

Obama(!)

own

ownership

owl

ogre

offer

oft

often

option

opportunity

opine

ostentatious

occlude

optometry/optometrist

optimum

opportune

over

...41...

obituary

ominivore

omnivorous

occupy

offend

offensive

oily

ovulate/ovulation/ovum

oops!

and...

Oz

OK, I may have saved "Oz" for the last one. It felt appropriately hail mary for the final word.

Alphabet Shins

As a counterpoint to our running training and my alphabet prompts, Matt's new exercise to loosen his shins before runs: spell out the alphabet with pointed toes. We're now alphabeting each morning before our runs.

N

I accidentally skipped yesterday: a negative thing. And I'd been worried that "n" would be a negative experience: "no," "non," "negative," "not."

But this morning approaching the prompt, I'm hearing "nascent," "nave," and "navigate." Perhaps its the running training Matt and I have underway? The possibility of "new" pathways and potential?  Let's see.

nave

nascent

navigate

necessary

nonsense

none

no

not

negative

negate

negotiate

nab

name

natural

narcissism

narcotic

narcoleptic

native

nativity

(one) nation (under God)

nominal

nominate

nom de plume (for all the furtive writers out there...)

notion

notional

note

notation

night

nightly

nickle

noxious

neurotic

neurosis

neurosurgeon

...and where it all started, with:

nerves

ne'er do well

nuisance

nude

needle

needless

narrate

.... 41... I do hope I have a day where my first count is something outrageous like 62!

nap/naptime

Nefertiti

Nile

Nigerian

nevertheless

nature

nest

negligent

neck

necking

...51.  I wish I'd been timing these exercises as I've gone along.  Did "A" take nine minutes and "N" only five?  Was the endless "K" a two-day process?  What will happen to me when I'm forced to wrestle with "U" and "X, Y, and Z"?

Matt asked me last night what I'll do once I've lapped the alphabet, and I really have no idea.  Do I start over at "A" and confirm this as truly just a "wake up to words" exercise?  Or do I troll my writing books for new prompts and see what issues forth?

I'm truly hesitant to capital-W write in this venue.  It seems dangerous, footloose, unwieldy somehow.

M

My last name is MacLennan, my sister's name is Maree, the main character of my first novel is named Sam Metcalfe.

How hard can "M" be?

music

mustard

mate

mating

matrimony

marriage

misgivings

mainline

main

martyr

macaroni

mastiff

massive

more

mores (as in, said the "c," cultural codes of conduct)

mortify/mortified

malleable

maple

moor

mooring

moon

moose

most

mast

masticate

mental/mentally

metal

meat

merit

market

marketplace

measure

measurement

moan

marble

marbled

marketable

meerkat

monkey

major

manipulate

manifold

manicure

minutiae

minute

minotaur

mystery

maybe

.... 48 .... and it's only 8:25 in the morning.

morning(!)

mourning

mourn.

I think I'll stop with "mourn." The new project I'm working on requires me to put a character through a kind of mourning I absolutely do not want to imagine. Maybe "M" will help me find that place.

link

limn

limit

list

lift

lift-off

listen

lint

linkage

luster

low

lower (I wonder if I "glowered" for G?)

loan

lean

lien

leitmotif

legacy

Lincoln

logs

Lincoln logs

lips 

lip service

(I am the) Lorax (I speak for the trees)

lend

lent

left

leftie

languish

leverage

locate

location

locution

(Picasso at the ) lapin (agile)

labia

laboratory

labor

lable

lariat

lasso

linguistics

linguica (If you haven't tried it, do.)

language

late

later

latent

loam

lunge

lug

....48! ... a great first pass....

....luckily (I might add.)

logistics

logic

literature

LITERARY.

That'll do. Thank God.

I have this fun idea that once I manage "Z" I'll cycle back through, and require myself to make sentences and stories using some set number of words from each letter. I'm just happy I ended on literary.  Gives a thirsty man hope.

K is for Killjoy

Which is how I feel approaching this task.  "K."  K? I mean, I barely scraped up 40ish words for J. Now K?  Luckily I've got "L" to get me through Tuesday.

Killjoy

Krypton

kryptonite

kite

kitten

kill

killer

kick-off

kick-start

kiss

kissing

kissy-face

kiss-up

kit

(the whole) kit and caboodle

kild

kind

kindness

kindergarten

kindle (both Amazon-book noun and fiery action verb)

kippers (rations for the British during World War II?)

kicketyboots (as my Dad called them, a Scottish boy in the 1940s)

Kafka

kir royale

kebabs (a word that will make its way into my new writing project)

kinship

kin

king

kingly

Kunte Kinte (still universal enough? proud maasai warrior and all that?)

killing fields (the)

khartoush (?)

....  32.... I may actually survive "K" after all

.... kickass

kerning

kernel

kestrel

kingfisher

killim

... the last two past an hour-long dinner break (Jambalaya - I cooked) with Matt...

knit

knitting

knight

knightly

...41....

know

knowing

knowingly

known

ken (in that Beowulf, LOTR family way)

keen

keening

kale

.... come on, one more.....

ketchup!

And what a fitting end.

...38.....

Jeffersonian

"J" fell away

Yesterday, a day of madness. Not a moment at the office to steal away for  "J," a driving day so no Metro-provided downtime to journal (Journal! J!), and friends over for dinner who stayed straight through the night.

Today is "J" 2.0:

journal

journalism

jelly

jeopardize

jeopardy

jolly

jokester

... this is difficult, without the ability to check against yesterday's post...

jagged

jab 

jot

jig

jacaranda (!)

jaded

Jaffar (Aladin's nemesis in the Disney movie? The bad uncle lion in "The Lion King"?)

jaguar

jail

jacket

jam

jangle

jaunt

Japan

Japanese

.... can you see the effort here -- jac/jad/jaf/jail/ja(k)et/jam -- as I plod through the alphabet, step by step?

javeline 

jazz!

.... 25.... plus 11 from yesterday... 36...

jihad?

Joy

Funny. 

When I typed in the letter "J" for today's prompt, the word "Joy" autofilled. Kind of a nice omen, given how uncertain I am of my ability to generate 50 words that start with "J."  So I'm open to writing in fits and starts.  J:

Jump

juvenile

jonquil

junior

job

jag

jester

just

justice

June

junebug

...... I'm late for work, sincerely.  I'll follow through later with 39 more.

I believe

Another flip-flop day. Work early in the morning, a run late afternoon, the prompting not until now, just before bed.  And the only "i" word that garnered was "in," which marks a lame start. Let's see:

In

inveterate

indigent

indigo

impossible

impotent

if

ignorant

ignoble

insipid

insufficient

ion

internment

internet

interest

.... a flow, or a cop-out?

intravenous

interior

internal

isthmus

island

irate

Ireland

immaculate

inaccurate

ideal

idiomatic

idiot

illness

illiterate (and yes, I need to find somewhere to volunteer)

igloo

ingrained

ingrate

illegitimate (again with the forgetting how to spell!)

....only 33.  I'd though "I" would come more easily....

irradiate

ignoramus

icing (!)

ice cream

ice....

isolate

isotope

impish

imp

illicit

..43... writing at 10pm is difficult. Sleep is what I need.

inspiration

inspired (about time...)

illusion

ill-equipped

illegal

Icarus

icky

italics

italicize

Italy

Italian

Indian 

...cheating now, but past 50 so it's not so bad....

Iranian

immodest

immobile

...I believe that I am done. No writing on the new project today. Work took a heavier than average toll.

H is from the office

"Hello" friends.
This morning ran away from me. Matt and I slept in a bit and then had a good run at the gym. We're training for a race in March, and the schedule -- actually working out regularly -- has us both a bit off. So I'll "hit" my 50 word goal now, stealing freely:

Hello
had
hit
hardscrabble
heart
hard
hemorrage
heartsick
heartache
hearty
home
homeland
hellish
hedonistic
homeopathy
hefty
hapless
happenstance
happenings
hole
heady
heifer
hex
hemoglobin
he
him
Hera (wife of Zues)
Hephastus (god of flame?forge?fire? good words for "f" but not today)
hack
hawk
hope
hero
halfwit
haggis
horoscope
Horus ... is an Egyptian falcon god, and my apologies for the proper names, but I think these mythological entities are valid, given their potential inspirational and descriptive value...
healing
heal
herring
...let's count. 39. Not bad.
hale
hair
here
heresy
heretic
heap/heaping
heckle/heckler
hourglass
hour
honor
honorific
... that's fifty, but it feels ill-earned.

This story I'm beginning to work on has, I hope, legs, and this 50 words at a time feels insufficient. (Can I use "insufficient" tomorrow? Yes I can.) As if it's not proper "writing," but rather, as originally described, warm-ups. And yet, the warm up precedes not fiction, but an Editorial Board meeting. It describes not a pushing into imagination and hard work, but hard work with firm, important limits on the imagination.

I love my job, truly, but wonder sometimes how to balance the creative life and the structured creativity of my work life. Is writing the truest outlet to match a writing profession? Or should I take that drawing class I dream about, for a change?

G is for...

good

great

gosh

golly gee (willickers)

goodness

grand

graft

grate

growl

groove

grip

gripping

gigantic

gentle

germ

germane

German

Germany

Gormenghast 

(which I need to look up, since all it offers me is a vaguely German-Dickensian-mythological resonance)

gorgeous

gorge

gelatto

gelatin

germaphobe

garden

gardener

grey/gray

gargantuan

girl 

... something still in that simple word, "girl"...

gaping

gape

gap

gawp (which the blog software isn't recognizing. Am I stealing some poet's "gawp" or "yawp"?)

guess

game (for play)

game (to experience)

geese

gabble

grab

grade

....40 at first check... This is a hard letter for some reason. Though the words flood my brain during the day, and at night, I try to fend them off ("fend") to be true to this experiment. Would it be cheating if I were to keep a list of words throughout the day?  "Chaff" for example, as a word for last weeks "c" list. Will I be doing a "c" list again, and will I be "g"rasping for "c"haff?

garnet

gale

gay (yay!)

gone

gown

gargoyle

gannet

gift

grange

....Go forward young man, and write.

I did, in fact, begin a new project last night, one that fits the "write the thing you don't want to acknowledge" line of thinking. It scares me, but excites me as well.

F.2

Apparently, "F" also stands for "for the record": My intent is to prompt-blog during the week.

F is for ...Funny

Funny how different it feels to write from the office, and in short order after writing last night before bed. I hope this means I'm flexing new muscles, hence feeling sore.

Which offers a few free words!

Funny
feels
flexing
feeling
few
free
.... Thanks extemporaneous (e!) musings...!
federal
fantastic
functional
futile
friendly
font
fountain
foundation
fundamental
fricasee
French
festering
foster/
fostering
fallow (a great word)
freedom
french fries
...and "freedom fries" of course...
fabric
fabricate
fabulous (for the gays...)
for (!)
fornicate (not intentionally following "the gays"...)
follow!
following!
flippant
festive
festival
Festivus (which I may or may not count)
fart
fanciful
fancy
foot
footloose
...and the favorite "footloose and fancy free"
favorite
farm
farmhouse
farmland
fellowship
focaccia
fen
feedlot
focus
forensics
flippant ... which made me wonder if I was repeating myself, which proved to be true, but which also inspired a wordcount, which makes the redundant flippant number 51.
Fantastic.
Oh, how I wish (ph)enomenal started with "F"!

e

matt's offerings:

episode

episodic

EBay

... many thanks, my sweet.

electronic

electoral

election

elephant

elegy

elegaic

elephantine

elliptical

estuary

Estonian

European

Europe

eucalyptus

effortless

effort

emancipation

egregious

eggplant

empire

emperor

errant

egg!

expectations

exploitation

existential

existentialism

... I know, I know....

evil (to parallel "d"s devil)

event

eventful

e pluribus unum

equate

equation

enable

enact

effette

Ezekial

entourage

entreaty

embolden

embryo

embrace

embarrass

... it's amazing how quickly, during this process, simply spelling disappears....

eventually

esoteric

eagle

eat

eaten

...whoohoo! 47 at first count! a personal best.

edamame

Eden

erase

That will have to do. 

I'll admit, I'm feeling more hopeful about writing again, thanks to this "prompting." As if maybe I can step back in, make a move, create something (or revise something, the tiny green goblin says) that might matter to me, that other people might want to read.

Tomorrow is "f" - perhaps a harder lift.

Eden. Erase.

Is there something there?

d

It is quickly becoming something of a moment of zen for me: time to write 50 words. Is there an appropriate "d" word to apply? Let's see.

devil
defy
destiny
deny
dent
derail
decry
donate
deliver
delay
debit
destined
darling
donation
debate
dogged
dog
dog day afternoon (...?)
daylight
daytime
dawn
derriere
diet
dietician
dollop
Dumbo(!)
do-si-do
doberman (pincher)
.... I'm parentheses happy today....
doctor (noun)
doctor (verb... I'll do at least 51...)
document
docent
decent
definite
definitely
desperate
.... 36, and struggling...
dope
dope fiend
daguerretype (sp?)
doozy
depression
defenestration
decoupage
defer
Doppler
destitute
dapper
duck
dolorous (to which I want to reply: sonorous)
deer
deep
deeply
deeper
deepest
... One more good one, one moment of zen....
deliverance
destination
die
....Not the cheeriest, but it'll do.
Looking forward to "E"!

c is for... "Can" and "Cannot"

Back in  2001, when I first started rewriting my life, I became enamored of a little mantra that helped me get out from under the tyranny of "should."  When I started to whine that I "should" do something - write, exercise, call Mom - I forced myself to replace it with the word "can" (if it was possible and in my control) or "can't" (if it wasn't.)  That established, I could rest easily between "can't" or "can," which inevitably led to will or won't. It put the power back in my hands.

C is for....

can

can't

crap

cartwheel

cartilege

court

courting

courtliness

.... I do get into ruts....

catastrophe

cunnilingus

craftiness

creativity

cart

cantankerous

...it is, by the way, snowing outside, big, blustery flakes, actually sticking to the ground...

carnival

creation

caterwaul

coop

co-op

corner

catapult

count

cat

coochie-coochie-coo....

carpet (matches the drapes?)

cascade

croon

centrifuge

centerpiece

central

cerulean

carnivore

carnivorous

canine

.... ran out at 35 this time....

Cartagena

cartel

cocaine

cooperation

clean

cream

crag

captain (OK, that's a cheat, I saw the word on my bookshelf)

carport

car wash

caterpillar

coonskin

cap

cesspool

chain

chain gang

chapter

chapel

chaplain

chest

chesty

choose

choice

58 words....  I guess I "can."

bold

... and Matt just told me this ambition was "bold."  :)

B is for...

begin

belittle

battle

betray

bottle

boy

barter

bet

behind

best

better

beyond

bundt

butter

beast

boat

be 

berate

baseball

basketball

butterfly

beetle

Beetlejuice

bargain

bead

bean

beer

boozy

but! ....this is hard....

boggle

befriend

bedazzle

buck

"buck up"

buster

beryl

Beelzebub

butternut

bowl

bowling

biryani

beseech

...40 seems to be where I first really putter out...

blast

blaster

beyond

boysenberry

blackberry

blueberry

berry

biscuit

braid

broil

... and... 

believe

... off I go...

...begin

Here's the good news: I'm eager to start. "B" words have been swirling since yesterday. I'm going to wait until tomorrow to... "b"egin.

Stolen Inspiration

A few month's ago, I read an article in Poets & Writers about prompts.  A writing instructor (name forgotten, apologies offered) said he gets himself going in the morning by cycling through the alphabet, one letter at a time.  He maintained that the simple rigor of that action served as a kind of mental warmup - something to get his mind, and his fingers, crackling along.

I'm teaching a class at the Writer's Center this spring, and it will be very prompt-heavy, so I'm going to give this prompt-cycle a shot. And hey - "A" worked out alright.

A is for...

apple

airport

amazing

absolute

afterthought

afterbirth

artistic

androgynous

abetting

able

Andes

andouille

adapt

adaptation

adaptive (ok, that's cheating a little bit)

acrimonious

Atilla

Atlantic

artificial

artsy

affect

affix

antipodes

Africa

artichoke

artisanal

alpaca

astute

arrival

antipathy

antiquated

ass

Alex!

abet

aggrieved

acquiesce

accept

adapt (am I starting to repeat myself?)

Asperger's syndrome

aloof

aloft

albeit

....I need eight more.  

atwitter

aflutter

adrenal

abulations

adulation

adore

adoring

adoration (cheating again....)

....I want one really good one....

afraid.

...."Afraid." A fitting end to this. Hey - one letter, 50 words. It'll get me through 26 days.