In Search of the Ideal Reader

It’s Day Four of Blogging Fundamentals and I’ve been asked to become a mind reader. What fun! Actually, the assignment is to create a post for my Ideal Reader. And, while I’m at it, include a new (to me) media element.

At the moment, I am wandering around the white space of Evernote, safely behind the curtain, wishing that I had cookies. Real cookies, home made, warm from the oven. Alas, no cookies. That would require planning ahead. Foreknowledge that I’d be having company in the form of my Ideal Reader showing up to peer over my shoulder and maybe help themselves to a warm cookie or two.

Now I wish that I had read ahead, taken a peek at the assignment before hand, worked up a magic wand and a fancy cape, a bit of off-stage smoke, and Voila! The Ideal Reader! And we could have shared a virtual plate of yummy cookies.

Perhaps a list …? (Have you ever noticed how, sometimes, an ellipse resembles a drum roll? If you answered yes, you go to the head of the Ideal Reader Line. No number required.)

Other aspects of the Ideal Reader:

  1. Grew up reading the backs of cereal boxes.
  2. Curious about the world.
  3. Can be brave in small doses.
  4. Fiercely loyal to SOMETHING that makes no sense to others (often this/these thing(s) can be found in quaint museums, dusty attics, abandoned buildings)
  5. Spontaneously creative for the sheer joy of being engaged in the moment (this includes drawing shapes and / or words on fogged up windows).
  6. You probably have a tendency to avoid being like every body else …
  7. But you are still drawn to the idea of having your own tribe (whatever that means).

Well, that’s a start. Mission to discover the Ideal Reader, begun. Check.

New to me elements … probably not a poll. That’s too much like a list. I’m off to find and embed something just for us, Dear Reader. And since I don’t know what I’m doing (but being brave in small doses, in public, with you), I’m going to try to embed an image from Instagram.

Which doesn’t work. At least not the way that the ‘super easy’ instructions seem to imply. So instead of the embedded image, I’m providing you with the link to an Instagram image of the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

UPDATE: I figured out how to embed an actual Instagram photo. Not sure how, just stumbled along until I found a photo that I liked and kept trying until something happened. I prefer the image from the link in the previous paragraph. It’s moody, very much like the sea. But this is nice. Never been there, alas. The aquarium, I mean.

These are the waters in which I first fell in love with the sea. In fact, I became convinced that I had been, once upon a time, a mermaid, in another life. (Add Number 8 to the list: Boundless Imagination.)

 I leave you with one of my own photos …

IMG_0020
My tiny plastic Creature of the Black Lagoon, exploring …

Monday with Marbles: An Interlude

I woke up this morning with the best of intentions but then I got distracted by my marbles.

Most of them are stored covered up, but those that are not … cough, cough, are covered with a thin layer of dust.

X marks the dirty marbles
X marks the dust…

So I decided to give them a bath. In the kitchen sink. Making things up as I went along. That’s my first cup of coffee in the photo, below. I was invigorated by the task at hand.

The Marble Spa.jpg
The Spa for Marbles
bubbles illusions and fun in the bath.jpg
Cat eyes in their bubble bath. That yellow marble with the red background is an illusion, as the red comes from a marble underneath.
O purple.jpg
All quiet after the bath.

All in all, a good start to a Monday morning. Which, thanks to my marbles, is now Monday afternoon.

Where did you go????

This is Day Two of the WordPress University Class Learning the Fundamentals, in which I am asked to change both the title (the site identity) and tag line of this blog. And why not?

Wednesurday was only ever a place holder, something to hold my feet to the fire so that I would blog at least twice a week (Wednesday & Saturday), which I tended not to do. Either I didn’t blog at all, or I blogged every day, or whenever the spirit moved me.

This blog has evolved into my little workshop, a foyer between the story teller and the locked rooms of the heart.

Door bell
Doorbell Photo Credit Little Visuals

Big journey. Little steps. Where did I go? I was always here…

Anecdotes from the Field

Word Press Every Day Inspiration Prompt Day 18: Anecdotes

Yesterday

I’m waiting for the light to change when the bright white late-model Cadillac hearse sweeps by, heading where, I do not know, but I can tell you where it came from: 17 Chestnut Avenue.
Photo Credit: Hearsing Around
April 1992
Your box is larger than I expected. But small enough to fit on the bookshelf, nestled between two of your favorite books: C is for Corpse and D is for Deadbeat.
November 1994
We’re headed west in a white Jeep, bound for Fort Huachuca, Arizona. The plan is to bury you in the cemetery, next to mom’s grave. But there’s a hitch. The office that arranges the burials says that it will take a week or more to get the paperwork through, and we don’t have a week. On our way out the door, a man stops us. Mother sold him his house. He dug her grave. He tells us to meet him in the morning. He will help us.

Some time in 1987

God knows how you managed the trip. Officially, you have lost your mind: a case of ‘diminished capacity” as the result of hitting your head when the van you were driving overturned several years before. But still you drove yourself from Sierra Vista to Niceville, Florida. Alone. The 1,627.8 mile mystery tour.
November 1994
We arrive at the burial site to find a neatly shaped hole – like the center of a doughnut but square rather than round – in the center of mother’s grave. I lower you as gently as I can into the hole.  I look up to see three deer gathered at the edge of the wood. This will do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Robo Jr Story Writing Challenge

Word Press Every Day Inspiration Prompt Day 19: Invite a Guest.

Meet Robo Jr., the plot-generating game that uses a  spinning wheel to create story plots. I found him at an estate sale last week, and it was pretty much love at first sight.

Robo with envelope.jpg

This game was invented back in the early 1930’s by Wycliffe A. Hill. It reflects the language and societal limitations/expectations of that time, but it’s still fun to play with.

 

For today’s challenge, I took Robo Jr. for a spin, and here is where we landed:

Element No. Robo Answer
PLACE 15 In a construction camp
HERO 10 An engineer
HEROINE 4 A spy
OBSTACLE 8 One of them has a hidden past
PREDICAMENT 13 Evidence of great value is withheld from one or both
CRISIS 1 One of them is captured by kidnappers
CLIMAX 12 It develops that some character has been merely acting a part
Place: In a construction camp. Let’s say they are somewhere in the United Kingdom, in between the wars. Which wars? (Post Brexit)
Our Hero: an engineer (what sort of engineer?). I’m going with chemical.
Our Heroine: A spy (industrial? what sort of spy?). An accidental spy. How would that happen?
Obstacle: One of them has a hidden past. Only one? I say they both have secrets. But only one of them is deadly.
Predicament: Evidence of great value is withheld from one or both. Something physical I suppose. A large jewel? A cache of gold and diamonds? A cache of cliches!!!!
Crisis: A vile enemy is about to win a victory over one. Vile, eh? Does this involve mustaches? The enemy might be a corporation. With a mustache. Yes, of course.
Climax: It develops that some character has been merely acting a part. Well, this seems redundant, given all that is going on, but just for fun, we’ll throw in another character. Somewhere off stage, but moving, if not slouching, towards us…

 

Want to play along? Study the outline as a whole, then write a brief synopsis (200 – 300 words), see what develops, go from there, and have fun!!!

 

50 Words of Fiction: The Visitor

She comes late to breakfast to find the front door standing wide open. A spray of lilies scattered on the hall floor, furniture in splinters, curtains in tatters. Drifting from somewhere at the back of the house is the scent of burnt toast, and … strangers.

No going back now.

bloody looking beets.jpg
Photo credit: Ryan McGuire at Gratisography