song of the day. #34

song of the day | what sandra thinks

I always struggle to enjoy the good days. I can’t help wondering about tomorrow. Will it be good, too, or will whatever messes with my head make tomorrow bad? It’s a terrible feeling. But that’s how it is. How I will feel tomorrow is a mystery beyond my control. And sometimes, worrying about it ruins the good days.

Please don’t tell me it is in my control. I’m sure it is for some people. But my brain doesn’t work the way other peoples’ brains work. I can tell myself… convince myself that it will be a good day, but in the end, it’s random. I never know how a day will turn out.

Today was a good day. Tomorrow? Who knows.

What does all of this have to do with the ‘song of the day’?

I have no idea. Probably nothing… I’m just rambling…

I heard this song today. It’s 22 years old. I haven’t heard it for a long time… but I still know all the words. I guess my cluttered brain isn’t ready to let go of some things, no matter how unnecessary they may be.

swirly
She thinks she missed the train to Mars, she’s out back counting stars

She thinks she missed the train to Mars, she’s out back counting stars

She’s not at work, she’s not at school, she’s not in bed, I think I finally broke her
I bring her home everything I want, and nothing that she needs

I thought she’d be there holding daisies, she always waits for me
She thinks she missed the train to Mars, she’s out back counting stars

I found her out back sitting naked looking up and looking dead
A crumpled yellow piece of paper, with seven nines and tens

I thought she’d be there holding daisies, she always waits for me
She thinks she missed the train to Mars, she’s out back counting stars

I thought you’d be there holding daisies, you always wait for me
She thinks she missed the train to Mars, she’s out back counting stars

song of the day

song of the day
Obviously I am not the owner of any rights to this song, video, or lyrics… just everything else… which isn’t much… ©2017 what sandra thinks
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sometimes. #poetry

sometimes
in my dreams
your touch
is so real
that when I wake
I cannot accept
that your heart
isn’t there
beating
with mine.


©2017 what sandra thinks

Posted in poetry, writing | Tagged , , | 15 Comments

dust. #poetry #haiku

words.

My words turn to dust
before I can decipher
what they’re telling me.

©2017 what sandra thinks

Posted in poetry, writing | Tagged , , , | 24 Comments

fiction friday 66: back to you. part 12. #fiction

fiction friday.


back to you. part 12. [previous: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11]

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and… the plot thins.

writing-girl-blk-3

That’s right. It doesn’t thicken.

I write and sometimes, I even write well. But I have a problem with my plots. They’re thin. They’re boring and predictable. They’re just… weak.

I have never made an outline for any story I’ve ever written. I think it would help dramatically (pun intended) but I can’t do it… because I can never come up with enough of a plot.

I’ll explain what I mean. Here is the plot of every story I’ve ever written, pretty much.

Boy meets girl.
Problems and complications.
Happily ever after.

Now, this might be okay provided the ‘problems and complications’ part is compelling… that things happen… things that could destroy lives, break hearts, break legs. And this is where I fail.

I usually come up with a story idea from one or two scenes my brain gave me. And that seems a fine way to start. But from there, I’m not good at creating a whole story… with truly complicated complications. Everything tends to be a little too neat. And I don’t think I’ve ever not ended with happily ever after.

And I know why.

I have a lot of chaos in my head. I’m generally an unsettled mess. Writing is therapeutic and it works for me when I write myself into a world where things aren’t so messy… where things actually go right… where happily ever after is a real thing. But that’s not super fascinating. Except to me. (Yes, I read and reread my own work all the time. And I love to do it. Sometimes I make little edits along the way, but mostly I just read. Is that strange? Egotistical? Sad?)

What does all of this mean? I have the ability to write… maybe even write well… but I don’t have the ability to come up with strong plots.

What does that make me? Half a writer? Part of being a writer has to be having great ideas, right? Having twists and surprises. Dreaming up interesting or emotionally-charged or shocking plots (or some combination thereof). And all of that while still being me… still doing my thing… romance, relationships, and all the emotions that go with them.

I may have a natural ability to perform the literal act of writing, but without a strong plot, I’m like a cake decorator who isn’t a great baker. I can make ‘it‘ look pretty, but without a delicious ‘it’, I’ll never have a complete masterpiece.

If the best I can do is the anti-chaotic writing I tend toward to escape my real life, doesn’t it get boring? Too sweet… too much frosting, not enough cake? I may be content with that, but I don’t think it’s good enough to serve my guests (especially if I ever have paying guests… ha).

But… I’m not even content with that anymore. I want more to the story. I just can’t come up with it. Maybe I’m not cut out for this… being a ‘writer’… a title I still struggle with because when I think ‘writer’, I think of someone who is published or seriously striving to get there… not someone like me who just writes but would only ever get published if someone found my blog and loved me so much that (s)he wanted to publish me on the spot. (Ha! I’m fucking hilarious.)

Aside: Maybe I’m also not cut out for writing because my last paragraph contains an epically long run-on sentence.

The thing is… I want to make an outline. I actually love shit like that! (Nerd.) But I want an outline that’s more than the three lines above. One with more than the few scenes I come up with. One with a great story behind it… with plenty of interesting, compelling twists and surprises. I want to refer back to it and swim effortlessly from one plot point to another. I’ve got the swimming down. But I don’t want to hop from start to finish over one neat little wave. I want to veer off course and maybe run out of breath and strength. I want to ride the bigger waves… even if it’s the harder path… even if I still end up at the same place in the end. And maybe I’d even end up someplace different.

But really… how the fuck do I come up with more plot? It’s either in me or it’s not.

Someone is going to tell me to read. It’s not going to help… not right now. I’ve got a problem with that lately. Every fucking book I pick up bores me to death. And I know they’re good books… it’s not them… it’s me. (Dammit, I used a fucking cliché!) Yep… lately, reading books bores me. What the hell happened to me? I’ve had months where I’ve read nearly a book a day!

Aside: I’ve never fully understood the ‘writers have to read’ thing. I (normally) read anyway… but… if reading helps one write or write better, how, exactly, does that work? You can’t just steal the ideas from the author of the book you’re reading. Maybe it helps when you’ve got your own plot but you can’t find the words? But I’m in the opposite situation. Not enough plot. 

If I just don’t have it in me to come up with stronger plots or enough plot for a really good story, what the fuck do I put in the outline? The one that I know would help me so very much? The few little scenes I dreamt up? They’re not enough.

I’m not going to stop writing… because I need it. But I want more.

*sigh*

I do have a pretty outline template. Too bad it’s empty.


©2017 what sandra thinks

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blind. #poetry #haiku

blind.

Caught up in my dream
I was blind to what you gave…
Always wanting more


©2107 what sandra thinks

Posted in poetry, writing | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

the poet. (revisited)

This post was originally published in June 2016, about seven months after I began ‘seriously’ writing poetry (you know, excluding the embarrassing teenage/early 20s stuff). I had far fewer followers back in 6/2016 (about 1/3 of what I have now) so I thought this deserved a repost. It is currently my 10th most popular/most viewed post of all time… 

green dots.

the poet.

This is all in fun! Huge generalizations and exaggerations. I’m sure they apply to my own poetry at times. Please please please do not be offended! That is so far from my intention it’s not even on the same planet.

divider dots. red.
I began writing poetry about seven months ago. (I know – who writes such brilliant poetry when she’s only been doing it for seven months? Ha! I am full of it…) I have since encountered many poetry-posting bloggers and I’ve read many many poems.

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mom’s boyfriend.

My mom has a boyfriend. And it makes me feel… weird.

There’s nothing wrong with her having a boyfriend. My dad died over five years ago. I want Mom to be happy. And she is super-friendly and outgoing. People like her. (Yeah, I don’t know what the hell happened with those genes because I didn’t get them…) So the boyfriend thing is not a surprise.

But let me back up a little.

A couple of months ago when I first heard that Mom had a ‘friend,‘ as she calls him, I immediately got this lump in my throat and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and even jealousy.

I was the last of Mom’s four girls to find out that she was dating. It feels incredibly odd typing that. Dating. She didn’t set out to meet someone. Since Dad’s been gone, Mom has lived alone (still does) and she has grown much closer to her neighbors/friends. Her ‘friend‘ is one of these neighbors.

Sadness. It totally weirded me out to think of Mom with anyone other than Dad. I know divorce is widespread and people pass on and kids have been watching their parents ‘get back out there‘ forever. But I’m a little fucked up anyway… and my parents were together and happy for over 45 years. This feels… awkward. And sad. And strange. And almost wrong… which it’s not. And even though Dad and I weren’t that close and often butted heads, this makes me miss him… a lot.

I’m sure some of you are thinking that I sound like a 13-year old freaking out about Mom’s new boyfriend. And maybe I do sound like that. But this is new territory for me despite my not being 13 anymore.

Jealousy. This is much weirder. It makes me feel like there is something wrong with me (like, in addition to everything else that’s wrong with me). It’s not that I want Mom to be alone and unhappy… of course I want her to be happy. I guess the thing is… I also want me to be happy. Like, with love. My husband and I love each other. But there’s no spark. There were never huge fireworks, but there was something… and I can’t find it anymore. [And I think a lot of what was between him and I in the beginning was in my head, not in reality… but that’s another story that I kind of told though the end is faulty.]

I know those beginning-of-a-new-relationship feelings usually mellow over time, but they shouldn’t disappear completely, should they? I don’t have unrealistic expectations. (Unrealistic fantasies and unrealistic fictional relationships in my stories… yes. Unrealistic expectations… no.) But I long for those feelings. At least a little. And I’m jealous that Mom gets to have that again. I can’t have that. Who the hell would want me, the walking disaster? And I’m not going to leave my husband anyway… and it sure as hell isn’t going to happen with him.

But that’s all just to explain the jealousy part. Back to Mom.

I’m wondering if these awkward feelings are ever going to pass… or will her new relationship always feel strange to me? Because it still does. Feel strange. Mom’s ‘friend‘ came up in conversation this weekend and I felt unsettled again.

And the thing is… I haven’t even met this guy! And I’m super-awkward meeting new people anyway. But I’m sure at some point… I’m going to meet him. What the hell is going to happen then?


©2017 what sandra thinks

Posted in family, writing | Tagged , , , , | 31 Comments