This morning a TED Talk about open source medicine transformed the way I think about sharing my work. I may not need to crowd source a solution to my writing problems (procrastination and confidence are really help-yourself type issues) but also there isn’t any reason to put my candle under a bush. What am I afraid of? Someone might see my work or judge me? Well, guess what self, you blog and you hope to be published…people are going to see you. And, every day you talk out-loud (too loud) in public …people are already judging. The worst that can happen, probably already is, and we never know what the universe has in store for us until we put ourselves out there.
So I decided that occasionally I’m going to share my work here. Maybe a poem, maybe a song, maybe a sentence I wrote that just makes my heart sing, but I’m going to put it out there and let the Universe send back what I really need. It might be silence, but that’s ok too.
Sharing – This might be the opening to a new novel I’m thinking about.
The house was empty. Lights, tucked beneath eaves, painted an outline of a pitched roof and gables, the Cimmerian walls and windows blending into the night. If not for those lights, the house would have been easy to miss, might have been more secure in the end.
The depth of country nights swallow colour and shape. Untrained trees deny the moon’s reflection, masking the purpose of roadside depressions that may or may not indicate a home at the end of a twisted drive. In that dark, only the most dedicated criminal would explore every turn-off in search of an empty home to exploit. Carl wasn’t that dedicated. Committed? Yes. Efficient? Certainly. But there was no need to waste time searching when some houses just announced their presence and their vulnerability. Carl liked the lonely pattern of lights on this house, almost as much as he liked halogen white yard lights. Some lights (like these) protest, just a little too loudly, that the house they illuminate is attended and secure. He knew the look of homes whose owners would return soon. Early in his career, Carl had learned not to disturb the expectant glow of a hall light that promised the imminent return of a home’s residents. He never explored houses that were dimly lit from within, windows glowing with yellow welcome. But this house was alone and experience told Carl that it wasn’t expecting company any time soon.
The mailbox, standing guard at the roadside, stuck out like a firm handshake. The message was clear to anyone who understood the social norms of country life, ‘private, come no closer without invitation.’ Carl ignored the social convention inviting himself to the property, though he still felt the mailbox’s disapproval as it watched him walk boldly past and up the unlit driveway.
Wall calendars are a wonderful source of inspiration and story. Each month they provide a new picture to colour our walls and bring interest to our schedule. Take the calendar off your wall (or go pick one up in the mall if you walls are sadly bare) and flip to a month that has meaning for you. Then, without reading the picture caption, spend a few minutes exploring the picture. Let your mind wander to what is seen and unseen. Is it a mountain scene? Is there a cabin just out of sight? Or is a hunter just about to flush a deer in the clearing. Then spend ten minute telling yourself the story of the picture. Happy Writing.