~December 13, 2003

Think about the last time you were really, really angry. How did it feel? Where in your body did the anger start? End? What eased it? How? Why?

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Oh, it's time for true confessions, is it? Okay, I was really, really angry last night.....

It exploded even though I tried my best to hold it in, press it down, avoid dealing with it. It rose from my stomach, burning my nose like vomit, caustic and needing to be released, but what a mess. Within minutes it was all over--hanging in the room like stench, but impossible to leave alone. I tried to stop, but it held me in a miserable grip that wouldn't stop, wouldn't be quiet, couldn't be still.

So I left. Not in the car on the icy streets but to another part of the house. And I immersed myself in something routine and necessary and as things cleaned themselves up, I wrapped myself in a cocoon of silence that I dared not break. Speech of any sort would be like throwing a hearty piece of red meat on a tender, torn stomach. I kept my silence and my distance. I worked until there was no more work to do and then I slept deep and seamlessly.

This morning the house was so still. I don't know what it is about snow that makes the entire world seem to freeze, even sound. The trees were white against a low charcoal sky, and tiny pinpoints of snow swirled as they drifted to the ground. I was up early, as was my husband who left for work. The boys had stayed up late since it was Friday and continued to sleep. I enjoyed the peace of my own company. From time to time the air filled with the continuous warm sigh of the heater and beneath that the soft churning of the workings that made the soft warmth possible. The clanky old boiler has evolved into a more civilized form, no longer consigned to a basement. After awhile it all cycled off and I could hear the children's sporadic sleeping sighs then. I still feel that satisfaction I first felt when they were tiny--that they were resting snug and sound and secure. For the moment I forget that they will wake up tall, loud and opinionated. They're still babies when they sleep.

Occasionally the clunk of the ice maker startled me it was so quiet. Our 20-year-old fridge has yet to evolve.

And in the silence and the peace and the snow, the last bit of the heated anger melted away completely.

avatar (AV-uh-tahr) noun

1. A manifestation of a deity in Hinduism.

2. An embodiment of a concept.

3. A representation of a person or thing in computers, networks, etc.

[From avatar (descent, as of a god from heaven to the earth), from ava-
(away) + tarati (he crosses).]
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This is one of those words that I should have looked up a long time ago. I sorta figured it out when I signed up for Weight Watchers and they had avatars you could choose to accompany your profile. Before that it was a word that crept up, mostly on the computer, and I was just too rushed to stop and pull out the dictionary.

So that was definition #3.

Definition #1 makes me just a tad nervous. Like I want to leave the word alone altogether.

#2: The embodiment of a concept. Hmmm. Computing, computing....Might make a good title sometime.

It's a tough job when you think about it, to take a concept and then encapsulize it. Take this for instance, how do you represent the One who made all things and gave us life? With a title? None of his titles embody all that He is and does. Only His name encompasses all of who He is. Yet people shy away from using it for one superstitious reason or another.

In the end, I guess our names are our most comprehensive avatars, right? The symbols I chose in the incidence I mentioned earlier (for definition #3) emphasized my role as a mother, a teacher and a writer. But beyond that I am a wife, a sister, a servant, recently a nurse a lot (sick kids), a cook, a calligrapher, stubborn, insensitive, sorry, angry, patient, loyal, emotional--you name it.

And so I sign off with my avatar....

Carolyn

How boring is this?????????????????????

disembogue (dis-em-BOAG) verb intr.

To discharge or pour out, as from the mouth of a river or stream.

verb tr.

To discharge.

[From Spanish desembocar (to flow out), from des- (dis-) + embocar (to put
into the mouth), from Latin en- (in) + boca (mouth), from bucca (cheek).]
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This word reminds me of disgourge but the only instance I know of where even that word was used is scriptural: The serpent disgorged water like a river.... (Rev 12: 15). The association probably comes from "river" which is used in both. Rivers of life, rivers of styx, rivers of writing down on the page. This is going nowhere quick. I think this will be a good day for editing. Rivers of ice are coming from the sky. Well not rivers. Spikes maybe? Freezing rain that click-clacks against the windows. Sounds like rather like typewriter keys. So maybe I should try to keep rhythm with it. There isn't any rhythm, really. I guess even when you're typing madly away there is not a rhythm. It's the words themselves that take on rhythm not the creation of them? Oh, oh--and here we are at the library book I checked out today: Writing Your Rhythm Using Nature, Culture, Form & Myth by Diane Thiel.

And so here are words disembouged for ten minutes.

~December 12, 2003

Make a list of your favorite authors. Do any of them have any recent works out that you haven’t read yet? Make a list so you have them handy next time you're in the library. Now make an extra row in the middle, and put your name on the list. How does it feel to be included in that list of people? Write more in 2004!
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Elizabeth Berg
Maeve Binchy
Morgan J. Blake
LaVonne Boruk
Mary Higgins Clark
Carolyn Dekat
D. H. Eraldi
Nicholas Evans
Jean Fritz
Katherine Hesse
E.L. Konigsburg
Colleen McCullough
Scott O'Dell
Linda Sue Park
Katherine Paterson
Rosamunde Pilcher
Edward Rutherford
Anne Rivers Siddons
Anne Tyler
Gloria Whelan
Phyllis Whitney
E. B. White

:) This is printable.

~December 11, 2003

Describe a puppy. Use as many of the senses as you can. See if you can let your reader know what kind of dog it is without actually naming the breed. Put the puppy in context as well—where is it? Why? Who else is there? What is the tone of the scene?
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"We were in Australia when we found her," Olivia said. "We stayed with a colleague of my father's and his wife raised them. Dad and Mom, Jake and Sandy were all scheduled to go to a business dinner, and so I stayed at Jake and Sandy's where they could phone me to check up from time to time through the night and where I would have more to do.

"Sandy and Jake took all of us out to the kennel to see their newest puppies just before they were ready to leave for dinner. There was a litter of four, just nine weeks old, and all of them already sold except Honey. Only I didn't know that, of course. All four of them were twitching and bouncing, and they were doing more yipping than moving, except for her. Honey was quiet, but that wasn't from a lack of enthusiasm. She talked to me on another plane and it went straight to my heart. I picked her up, and true to her breed she was soft as silk to hold. Her eyes were huge black pools with sparkles of electricity. And her little ears flopped over, laying a triangle of blue-black over the tan of the rest of her ears. She was such a picture. It was love at first sight.

"I never even asked for her. Later Daddy said that her coat was the same color as my hair, and the bits of brown on her legs, muzzle and ears were the same color as the shirt I was wearing. We were a matched set from the start. Which is why I give her a ribbon the same color as my shirt every day. It ties us together. And it reminds me of Daddy."

doff [ dof ] (past doffed, past participle doffed, present participle doff·ing, 3rd person present singular doffs)

transitive verb

1. take off or lift hat: to take off a hat, or lift and tilt it as a greeting or a mark of respect


2. take off clothing: to take off a coat or another piece of clothing


[14th century. Contraction of archaic do off “to take off.”]


dof·fer noun

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This is one of those words where I'm probably better off with my vague knowledge of what it meant, rather that the "official" definition. I'm confused now.

Given definition (1) it seems acceptable to write: He doffed. I keep wanting to add the phrase his hat, but wouldn't that be redundant?

Maybe not, given definition (2). How sure do we need to be that it is his hat he is doffing and not other articles of clothing? Wouldn't the context distinguish between the two meanings without having to add the redundant phrase?

Then perhaps we could be perverse and have him doff a different article of clothing out of respect and make definition (1) a mis-definition.

Tee hee!

Words! Gotta luv 'em!

Here's a word of advice: Don't be a doffer(2) if it's too cold!

octothorpe (OK-tuh-thorp) noun

The symbol #.

Everything has a name. Some things have several names. If I said "pound sign" most push-button phone users would know which symbol I was speaking about. But I do remember a time when I had no idea that # stood for pound as well. I just called it "the number sign."

Now I find I can call it an octothorpe.

When might I want to call it an octothorpe? Maybe when it's a footnote symbol--neither a number sign or a pound sign. Or perhaps a very precise character would use the word. Or one who wants to impress someone with his vocabulary, because there was nothing else impressive about him/her. A less precise person might call it a tic-tac-toe grid imitating the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

I love knowing the names of things--the words that draw vivid pictures in the mind of a reader. I'm currently reading Escape Into the Open: The Art of Writing True by Elizabeth Berg. I think the thing that impresses me the most about her as a writer is that she captures a snapshot in words. Those words are crisp, exact, and the picture they draw is clear and recognizable. But it's the details that make me say--yes! I can see that.

Don't know that octothorpe would do that.

But after today.....perhaps a few more will know what I'm talking about. :)

duende (doo-EN-day) noun

1. Demon; goblin.

2. Inspiration; fire; spirit; magic; charm; magnetism.

[From Spanish dialectal duende (charm), from Spanish (ghost).]


The two faces of passion--the magical charmer and the goblin.

Creative people know these faces well. There is that magic when the idea is flying on wings that sprout in the heart and pulse through the veins and spill into the world while erasing time. Then there is the goblin that sits like a rock, keeps the page blank and the mind tangled around things that don't really matter or are not at all true. You can't create! This is too much for you! Should that really be blue? Dialog there, are you sure you shouldn't use description? A full note or two halves?

When you know the nature of the beast, you learn to work with it. Tame what needs taming, bridle what needs bridling, and ride like the wind whenever you get the chance. More often than not, though, the pace most comfortable for the steed--a basic trot--is not the most comfortable for the rider. Together though--with a little give and take--there's no telling where you'll go.

It's worth the ride.