Let’s talk writing for a bit. There are words for everything. One of the things I’ve always been fascinated about is how they are used. For instance, let’s consider your mouth and throat. If you swallow milk you “drink” it. If you swallow medium rare prime rib you “eat it.” If you need a pill for a headache, you “take it.” It’s all swallowing, but you can look at it from a different perspective with each word and be clear and specific. You can’t drink the prime rib, or take it. Same with the others, and there are numerous other examples of the same kind of word rules.
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Since I’m now over 50 and officially an AARP member, I am eligible for all sorts of financial deals. One that really appealed to me was the AARP car insurance deal where if you took their driver safety class you’d get a five percent discount on your car insurance. I ain’t no dummy, car insurance is expensive, especially if you own more than one car or have a kid under 25 still on your insurance plan. So, I figured, I could sit still for a few hours on a hard chair in a dark basement of the Senior Center and take the class. After all, I’d had to take it every two years when I worked for the state. Piece of cake. I’ve flown in big jets, small planes, and helicopters. I enjoyed none of it. Today, I took my first flight in a balloon, well actually under the balloon, and I doubt it will be my last. Though the heat from the propane flames curled my hair, I lived through the experience. Ballooning has improved greatly since the French inventors began experimenting with it. At first, balloons were made out of paper and a wood fire was lit underneath to make it all rise…needless to say, the inventors were no fools and they refused to ride in it themselves, but they did force some convicts to be used for the purpose. Heck, if you’re on death row, I guess it’s not a big deal. Unfortunately, the convicts crashed and the peasants attacked and killed them thinking they were invaders. When my son was in little league, everyone got a trophy on the team. No one was given any recognition (ever) as an individual. I think there is a lot of good in complimenting the group as a whole, but individual recognition is important too. When everyone gets a trophy, it means less…and perhaps even nothing. My son doesn’t even want his trophies. When someone says to you individually that you are valued, that’s when it genuinely means something. When I served in the park service and the fire department, they always knew how to tell a person “Individually” that they mattered...at least they did for me. I don’t know if I did it as well as I should for my guys in those organizations, but I hope so. Being on the top of a high mountain peak in the middle of a violent thunderstorm in Sedona isn’t smart, but it can be pretty exciting. So can walking down that mountain trail in the dark in the pouring rain, especially if your flashlight batteries die. I took this shot from Eagle’s Rest in Sedona at Red Rock State Park just before the storm hit.
I watch things. I think this helps as a writer to notice stuff, and I think with my law enforcement background it became a bit of a habit. I love to watch people and use them as character types in my books as well as using some of the things they actually do in my stories. I’ve also found some unusual things in observing what people do. Did you know when you are driving and turn to look at the passenger, your car begins to move slightly to the right. It’s a body mechanics thing, and has to be countered with deliberate forethought, especially if you’re looking in the backseat screaming at the kids to settle them down…. I have always been an ardent fan of Tony Hillerman’s writing. His books transported me to one of my favorite landscapes in the rimrock country of the Navajo and Hopi reservations. I was working on getting an introduction to him by a good friend around the time Tony passed away, and I was sorely disappointed I couldn’t have shared a chat with him. Meeting a hero is a big deal to most of us. I was fortunate to meet C.J. Box and I’m working on Craig Johnson as my next target. Not as a stalker, I just appreciate their immense talent. Ahhh, Cicadas... Arizona is home to the most diverse population of cicadas in the country. If you don’t live in cicada country here’s what you are missing: Every 17 years a cicada climbs out of the ground and becomes an insect instead of a larvae. It climbs a tree and then begins making a rattling popping noise to attract a mate…something on the order of Eminem’s songs done by a mariachi band. Apparently this is a fairly sophisticated process involving a number of differing love songs all played on the abdomen of the cicada. Meanwhile, the cicadas are sucking on sap and then peeing it out on unsuspecting passers by who may be walking under their favorite deciduous tree wondering what that delightful mist is in the mid-summer heat. When I was a kid, I didn’t get an allowance. I was told if I wanted money, I would need to work for it. Occasionally, there were things to do around my house that my parents would grant a quarter or two for me to complete, but generally I was expected to go elsewhere to earn money to help ease the economic burden on the family. My first job was washing pots and pans in a bakery at age ten. I didn’t like it and was only subbing for a friend who did it regularly. Then I subbed on his corner selling the evening newspaper. I would run out into the traffic lane at red lights and hawk the paper to drivers and hopefully complete my transactions before I got run over by commuters drag racing off the line at the green light. Often I got stiffed by drivers who took the paper and then said they didn’t have the money when the light changed. It wasn’t the perfect job either. I still spend a lot of time with those suffering addictions. My original training for my masters was that of counseling. I didn’t do it for long as a job. It’s a hard career, because you constantly deal with people who are to one degree or another suffering and having difficulty in succeeding at something in life. If you aren’t careful, you can get vicariously frustrated, burnt out, and depressed as a counselor. |
Greg
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