What's on your fridge?

I came up with this idea last night and thought it would be worth a try.  What could it hurt?  My professor in college, Ron Carlson, was lecturing on scene and talked about how the items in someone's room or car or home or purse demonstrate character.  You don't just want to put any sort of random detail in your description of a room.  You want the descriptions to reflect on the character or situation. 

One of his examples was what is on people's fridges at home.  Is your fridge clean or is it a home for a family of magnets? 

As a way to collaborate with each other, I thought it would be a fun experiment for everyone to post a list of what is on their fridge at home!  We could use the ideas for inspiration for characters in our own writing.  Free gleaning!  And it might just be interesting to see what comes out in that list.  So, either post your list as a comment on this post or post it onto your blog and post a link in the comment section!  A way to share...from one writer to another.

On My Fridge, I have...

1. a letter from an Italian restaurant with a coupon
2. a recipe for steak with garlic butter
3. a 2 year old photo of my 8-year-old cousin
4. an old Christmas card from 2010
5. a giant green Christmas stocking (the kind you get from the 99 cent store!)
6. a grocery shopping list
7. a turtle magnet that I got in Hawaii on my honeymoon
8. a whole bunch of empty clips
9. a free credit card magnet

I hope you participate, glean, and enjoy! 

The Journey of Writing

I had the rare occasion today to sit and read a physical book for hours while waiting for my car to be serviced. I didn't really like the book that much, but reading always makes me want to write.  Either to produce something better than what I read or to explore characters in the same way I get to explore them as I read.

So, I returned home and sat in front of my laptop to write.  I started on a story that I had been contemplating for some time, and I was immediately disappointed.  In no way was this writing process as enjoyable and easy as reading.  Where was the effortless explosion of character?  Why did I not have a firm grasp on this person's character?  I wanted so badly to enjoy that writer climax in which my fingers are flying across the keys because I know exactly what to write and because I feel so close and intimate with this person I created, like they are my new best friend.

But writing is much like life in this way.  A writer does not normally achieve that sort of euphoric state without effort.  In fact, the effort is what creates the joy.  We find joy because we put in effort.  The relationships with our characters are just like the relationships with those around us: the intimacy must be earned by spending time with them, listening, and putting their needs before your own.  Only then are you truly able to partake in that breathtaking climatic moment of intimacy.

So, even though I feel like giving up on this story because I'm not "feeling it" right away, I'm going to keep on.  Perseverance will yield much in the end.

Reading and Writing

As a writer, reading is paramount in importance.  Reading is as essential to the writing process as food is to eating.  At first, I resisted this notion because I didn't have a lot of time to read.  I thought, "I can still write and not read!" True, you can. 

 
However, I realized the writing is very much a collaboration.  Often, in the midst of competition and pride, this sense gets lost and discarded for the sake of maintaining one's sense of writer dignity.  I am blessed to be a part of two workshops in which the attendees all understand that we can be brutally honest when we constructively critique each other's work.  We understand that their input is vital, and we respect each other.

So, reading is a collaboration.  But what about published books?

I honestly miss reading a book.  I don't have nearly enough time to read.  So, I spend my daily three-hour total commute to read in the car.  Audible has become my best friend.  I'm able to read a book about every two weeks listening to it in the car, and the audio makes the drives go by in a flash.

Some people argue that listening to a book isn't as "legit" as reading it.  I think both have their pluses and minuses.  (That could be a whole blog post by itself.  We'll save it for another time.)  Nevertheless, audio books, though they will never replace the tangible book, have given me an opportunity to get consistent reading in.

The results?  I find that I'm more consistently enthusiastic to write.  Reading other people's stories gets me excited about mine.  And not even considering all of the rest of possible consequences, I'd say that's a pretty good deal.

At Noon

A Exploratory Profile 

In one of his five pinstripe business suits, Jacob ate his lunch in the car.  The windows were up, even though it was seventy-five degrees outside.  The stuffiness didn't bother him.  He just hoped no one could smell his lunch on him after he was done.  He didn't want anyone knowing that he ate alone every day.

Today, like every Wednesday, it was a $6 turkey deli sandwich on a rosemary bagel from Breugger's down the street from the office.  The peppered bacon here was his favorite.  And it was inexpensive.  Randy Simmons always went to lunch at the restaurant on the base floor of the office building.  A burger there was $15 plus tax and tip.

He tucked the napkin methodically into his collar above the knot of his tie and spread it out to protect the maximum surface area.  Last week, he had dropped a dab of mustard on his light gray tie.  It had cost a fortune at the dry cleaners to remove the oil stain.

When he was done, he wrapped his trash neatly into the napkin that protected his shirt, saved the extra napkins in his glove compartment for dinner, and returned to work.  His most flavorful lunch of the week was done for now.  Tomorrow was Thursday, and he was back to sack lunches in the corner of the break room until next Wednesday.

I Want to Be Courageous

I'm not a very brave person.  I'm not a risk-taker or even a spontaneous person.  I plan ahead, plan for hiccups, plan for worst case scenarios, plan for success.  I calculate and weigh the pros and cons so that when I go into uncharted territory, I have the best possible picture of what to expect.

That being said, I've made a "career decision" that leaves me feeling very vulnerable.  I'm second-guessing myself, wanting to be there for people that I care about but knowing that their decisions should not hold me back from putting God, my husband, and my ministry commitments first.  Still, you know how it goes, there are always questions that you cannot answer, the "what if's" that haunt you if you let them.  As the worry-wart type, I often do.  I feel more secure worrying, to be honest. 

Then this morning, I read the blog of my sister-in-law, Tiffany, who is currently in Africa on a missions trip.  (Check her blog out at http://tiffanychen.theworldrace.org) She signed up to go on an 11-month missions trip to 11 different countries around the world.  She left in September 2011.  Everything she's going through makes my problems seem so insignificant.  I wish I could say that I've cast out demons in the name of God and conquered the unknown in a foreign country for my Lord. 

How much better would the world be if all of us were as brave as we were when we wrote stories?  I am cut-throat when I write.  I hesitate (but not much) when I delete pages.  I send my characters into dark corners, thinking, "Let's see what happens," knowing that no time is wasted as long as I learn more about them.  Why can't we live life like that?  We so often are scared of the "what if's" that we are paralyzed by the question marks.  We write with reckless abandon, yet we live in holes.  We were made for so much more than this.

Christmas Letter

Dear Blog Readers,

Merry Christmas!  Here is part of my Christmas letter that I sent out to family and friends this season.  I couldn't leave you out!  Enjoy!  

As a recently married couple, my husband and I have been amazed at all of the things we’ve been learning about marriage and about each other.  We thought we’d share a few of them with all of you, either as a quick review or preparation for the future. 

Lesson #1: Work as a Team

The first team member’s duties are to cook a fabulous meal.  Experiment or try a new recipe.  Try utilizing some of the leftovers in your fridge.  The second team member’s job is to support the cook.  Stand by the annoyingly-nearby smoke detector and wave a newspaper in front of it to stop the alarm, which may go off at the rate of every twenty seconds.  Repeat as needed.  Remind the cook that the alarms have nothing to do with the quality of the food. 

Lesson #2: Celebrate Each Other’s Strengths

For example, you’re putting up the Christmas lights together for the first time.  Husbands are really good at cleaning the cob webs off of the eaves.  Wives are very good at pointing out if he missed one.  On the flip side, wives tend to be good at writing thank you notes.  Husbands are very good at signing them. 

Lesson #3: Be Understanding

When your wife buys six rolls of wrapping paper, be understanding. It is her first Christmas away from her family, and the wrapping paper makes her happy.  When she buys 20 gift bags, seven spoils of ribbon (what do you need ribbon for anyway?), three packets of tissue paper, and gift wrapping tape, be understanding.  Okay, she likes to decorate her presents.  When she buys a plastic container to hold the wrapping paper rolls, be understanding.  At least she’s putting things away.  When she buys a metal rack for all of that ribbon, be understanding.  And when she buys enough presents to use all six rolls of wrapping paper, be…well, just smile and say, “That’s great, honey.”

Lesson #4: Leave Little Notes for Each Other

It’s really sweet to come home to your favorite drink in the fridge with a little note that says, “I love you!” on the top.  It’s also really sweet to wake up to breakfast in bed with a handwritten note telling you how wonderful you are.  It’s also really sweet to come home to a sticky note on the front door that says, “Ha!  Beat you home!” (Racing is not endorsed.)

The Little Things

A few weeks ago, I was stressing out about how much cleaning I had to do.  Work was "putting my through the wringer", a phrase I had to use often to politely but accurately describe my mental and emotional state at my job, and I just felt overwhelmed.  Every room in the house needed attention: the bathroom, the kitchen, the office, the bedroom.  Spiders and ants were finding their ways inside, the toilet bubbled when I ran the washing machine, and I kept opening up my drawers and felt like I had nothing to wear (oh, first-world problems).  


I opened the fridge the other day to try and figure out what I could concoct for dinner that night and found a plastic cup full of wonderful sugary goodness with a post-it note declaring that I was special to someone.  The hubby had picked me up a caramel iced coffee.  I'm a weak-sauce coffee drinker, but I'm incredibly addicted to the dessert kind.  This was the perfect thing to sip on while cooking dinner. 


Another day, I had a business meeting to prepare for, which means waking up earlier in the morning (eww) to blow dry my hair and put on make-up, something I don't normally do.  It's just too much effort for me.  What do I wake up to?  The smell of eggs and bacon.  At my bedside.  

I opened my eyes to see a small ciabatta sandwich with egg and bacon and a pumpkin spice latte.  One of the first of the season.  I think the smile on my face stayed permanently with me all day.  The hubby had waken up early, driven to Starbucks, driven back, and artfully placed my sandwich one of our Food Network dishes (which, by the way, make every meal look professional just because the plate is SQUARE).  


Even though those two occurrences aren't "little" in any respect, I've begun to appreciate the little details that my husband takes notice of because of them.  The thoughtful decisions he makes, big or small, illuminate his thought processes and heart.


It's the start of the holiday season.  I'm an avid celebrator of all things Christmas.  But one of the more important aspects of this season is taking notice of the little things, both in your actions and others.  Not only is it inspiring in your writing and will help develop stronger characters, but understanding brings such a richness to one's life that cannot be attained any other way.  

Moving

Almost four-weeks into Marriage.  I'm loving it, but also moving out and learning to live with someone new brings about a lot of adjustment.  You are constantly shifting your weight as you attempt to balance on this new board which has different weights and sensitivities.  I'm having to learn to say, "ours" instead of "his" and "Mom & Dad" instead of "Mr. & Mrs."

The symbol of this change: boxes.  In these boxes is everything imaginable from childhood trinkets to adulthood necessities.  The "razor" for my Shaving Ken doll, really just a plastic stick with a foam pad on the end.  The child size T-shirt that says, "I'm in the middle."  An unopened curling iron because I can't take the one at my parent's home with me.  A purple wedding planning book with bent pages and a dented cover from being dropped on the ground from desk-level.

The boxes form an impenetrable wall before our sliding glass door, stacked three or four high, depending on their size.  They are labeled with department store logos, leftovers from wedding registry gifts.   They are haphazardly sealed with scant pieces of packing tape.  There are light cob webs growing between a few as they have not been touched in a few weeks.  Everything needed is already unpacked.

Sitting proudly on the bookshelf are dozens of photos of smiling sisters and proud parents.  Those were out of the boxes first.