Free Write -- The Blotch

 We did our Free Write at l'Hostalet today. One of those few perfect weather days as we sat under the mulberry tree.

The prompt was a blotch on a wall.

As usual we were limited to ten minutes.

D-L's Free Write -- The Blotch

Sam stuffed her backpack with her art supplies before leaving for her "work" near the swan boats on Boston Common.

When she was five, she had used her Crayolas to draw sunflowers and bunny rabbits on her freshly-painted bedroom wall.

Her mother, rather than punish her, had asked an artist friend to look at it.

"Samantha has real talent," the friend had said.

After that, Samantha took art lessons like her friends took piano.

At nine there were contests on kid's TV show. A simple line or blotch would be shown and contestants would turn it into drawings. Sam was bared from entering by the judges after she won three times.

As the swan boats floated by, Sam set up her easel. 

Her partner Billy was late. He played clarinet as she painted. He gave listeners a list of songs to select from.

Besides portraits, Sam had people draw a blotch which she would turn into a painting.

WHDH did a three-minute segment on their duo. CNN picked it up and now they had a line of customers almost every day.

"Can you do something with this?" a woman asked handing her a paper with three brown blotches.

Sam looked and saw a dog behind a monkey. Her brush moved quickly. 

The woman and her children went away happy, and Sam was $50 richer.

Sometimes Sam wondered if her mother had punished her for drawing on her bedroom wall, where would she be now.

Rick's Free Write

People see familiar shapes in clouds, in oil stains on the road, in rusted metals.

One of my favorite ‘Rorshach’ tests is a Peanuts cartoon. The erudite Linus, lying on a hillside with Charlie Brown, sees in a cloud formation the Biblical account of the stoning of Stephen, witnessed by Paul, future Apostle. ‘What do you see, Charlie Brown?’ ‘I was going to say a duckey and a horsey, but I’ve changed my mind.’

On one of our trips from Argeles to Geneva, we spotted a cloud shape that looked strikingly like Sherlock. Got the photo.

This ink blot was on a piece of wood at street level in the village. A trio of animals? Maybe all dogs? Or a punk poodle, smoking weed, followed by a prancy pup on his hind legs, with a young bear cub bringing up the rear. You can readily make out the shape of faces and feet, and let your imagination fill in the eyes, mouths, tails, ears.

They’re no doubt foraging for scraps of food leftover from the marchè before the street sweepers scoop them up. Surprising that none of the villagers noticed them on their journey.

P.S. Herman Rorshach, Swiss, invented the ink blot test in 1921.

 Julia's Free Write

Where to start? As she noticed the brown blobs on the wall on the main street, her mind filled with questions: a piece of artwork, representing potentially a little old man and woman walking stooped with age as they made their way to the next store down the line? Or perhaps it was two brothers, the older pushing the younger in their hurry to get to the park? Her imagination runs riot: it almost looks like the far-right figure is reaching down to pet a small whale.

OK stop with the wild theories, maybe there is a more sinister reason for those brown blobs: traces left by the people killed against that wall – she vaguely recalls reading about some such incident recently.

Whatever, she will go on and try and not let those imagines remain in her head to haunt her come nighttime.

Julia has written and taken photos all her life and loves syncing up with friends.  Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/ 

Rick is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices. com

 

D-L has had 17 fiction and non fiction books published. Check out her website at: https://dlnelsonwriter.com

 

 

 

Colours that fly

 

 

 

Years ago, a very talented artist friend, decided to post some photos she had taken on Facebook. All the photos were mainly yellow. The next week she used a different colour.

Others wanted to share their photos with the same theme and Flying Colours was born. 

Now 165 photographers (amateurs mainly) check for the next week's theme and off they go. A different person each week suggests the theme.

The photos come from all major continents adding to the diversity even with the theme confines.

Themes can still be colours: we've also done shadows, doors, plants, flying, graffiti and many more with the only limit the imagination of the person charged with offering the theme.

In the beginning my husband and I would get the theme on Saturdays and off would head out on a photo safari to find photos that fit. Sometimes, we knew we already had the perfect photo and we'd pull those from our albums and post them.

Looking at how others interpret the theme is as much fun if not more as taking the photos. One of us would say to the other..."Make sure you check out what (fill in the name) posted."

This week's theme was things under other things. My offerings were my dining room table under my skylight, the wall and patio under the sky and finally, sausage cups under the sausage. I've been asked why, but I have no idea.

I'll have to ask the restaurant owner the next time I'm there.

 

 

I'm in a Writing Funk

 

A writing funk is not the same as writers block.

Writers block means you can't write. 

I can write. I do our weekly free writes with my husband and a friend. The words flow from pen to paper although the free writes are the only time I use paper and pen.

I can do blogs  like this one almost daily. In fact I have a few in waiting.

What I can't seem to get to is the last step of my 300 Unsung Women, a two-year project. I and many friends have identified 300 women throughout time who did remarkable things in many areas: medical, legal, creative, social, revolutions, etc. 

I boiled the 1000-3000 words of research down into 100-200 words that I hoped captured their essence.

I've proofed 270 of them. I can't seem to get to the last 300.

I used everything as an excuse.

A walk in the village, a café sit with friends, computer games. I am watching all seasons of Monk. He makes me feel better about my own semi-OCDism. I cook, clean, even iron.

I've always read a lot usually 30,000+ pages a year. I read all kinds of books, a variety of fiction, history, politics, whatever. That I continue to do rather than edit those last 30 women.

I chant my mantra I've used in other less than wonderful situations -- This too shall pass. Or I hope it will.

Free Write --Time is Fleeting

 

Normally all of us do the Free Write on Tuesday morning, preferably together over tea, coffee or hot chocolate. But this week, one of us was travelling in Switzerland. No problem, I'm posting it Thursday. 

Sometimes our Free Writes are similar, but this time they were very different. All three were triggered by the photo of the statue.

The goal of our group Free Writes is to just let our thoughts pass through our fingers to the paper. There's no right-wrongs or maybes.

As a writer, Free Writing allows me to prime the pump of my creativity. Although I will do one when I'm blocked on whatever project I'm working on, sharing this experience is an entirely different experience.

D-L's Free Write Memories to File under Past

Note: This photo prompt sent from Switzerland by our third member of the group stumped me at first and then after the first sentence my pen flew across my notebook. Thank you Julia for the workout.

Maddy hated that statue.

Maddy loved that statue.

Each morning on the way to buy her crispy crusted Brötchen at the Bäckerei she would walk by the little girl riding on a four-wheel board. On the stone stand "Die Zeit fleight dahin," translated as time flies, was written.

Today, the statue was snow covered.

Next week she would be back in Boston for Christmas. Her six-months at the German Language School over. She could now understand, read, write, speak in passable German. 

She would have to leave Thomàs.

The secretary at the school had warned her how he always choose the prettiest student each session. After they went home, letters would pour in from the departed student. Thomàs threw them away unopened. I telll them I don't have an e-mail or social media." he told Claudia the secretary.

Sometimes the women wrote Claudia. She'd reply he'd left and she didn't know where he had gone.

Maddy took this to heart and added her affair with Thomàs to what would become of her memories of Germany along with the Biergartens, the view of the Alps and the crispy crusted Brotchen.

Five months, three-weeks gone. One week left and time was flying.

Rick's Free Write Time Flies

Sometimes, it seems, time stands still. Especially if you’re waiting for something to happen – an event, a message – and it is not coming fast enough. Or perhaps you’re immersed in a project, totally focused, and you have no sense of time passing. This often happens to me, particularly when I’m writing in the middle of the night.

I once worked with an artist who seemed to think time was frozen as he hunched over his drawing board. When the book was finished the publisher threw a party at his lake house, and we gave the artist a ‘Vertical Time Continuum Award,’ a broken watch. Later, Bob, the artist, rowed a boat into the small lake and played ‘Amazing Grace’ on his bagpipes – wearing a Scottish plaid kilt and a yellow terry cloth shirt. Quirky, but a brilliant illustrator.

More often, for me, for us, time seems to fly throughout the day. We end up in bed, near exhausted, frustrated at not accomplishing all the things on the day’s to-do list. Time-consumers have intervened. Computer or other electronic issues. Chasing down information that should be readily available online but customer-unfriendly companies seem intent on obscuring (such as how to cancel their service or contact a real person). Random social interactions on the street. Something really interesting to read. The dog needs to go out – just when you sit down to eat (Pavlov’s trigger).

We probably get more done than we realize. Better than we admit to ourselves. But if we could buy a few more minutes, hours, days, years, how many and for how much?

 Julia's Free Write

He had had a very busy day, starting when his was awoken even earlier than usual. They were going, finally he thought, to an amusement park. A quick breakfast so that they wouldn’t be hungry during the two-hour drive, and they were off.

Once in the park it was ride after ride, fun stand after fun stand.

One of the highlights found him entering a tunnel then faced with a long slide down towards oblivion – or at least that was how it seemed. At the bottom, several entrances to choose from – off to the right and another slide, even deeper into the earth. This led to yet more choices, at the end of which a long elevator ride up to the surface of the earth, where it all started over: a merry-go-round, a flying dumbo ride where the vehicles ended up flying straight out and he became dizzy.

A brief stop for lunch, just to keep up, and they were off again, the wife having decided to sit out the next round on a bench in the shade of a coffee shop.

When he finally returned, he noticed a a small statue of a child on what looked like a scooter with the motto at his feet: Time flies.

All too appropriate for a day during which he followed his small son.

Julia has written and taken photos all her life and loves syncing up with friends.  Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/ 

Rick is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices. com

 

D-L has had 17 fiction and non fiction books published. Check out her website at: https://dlnelsonwriter.com

 

Logos and minimalism,

 

I am definitely a minimalist although I've mellowed a little since my marriage. I am also shopping phobic. Punishment is having to go to a mall.

When I do buy something, I will remove logos. Someone gave me a beautiful Nike sweatsuit, but I quickly covered the logo with cute kittens.

Yet, I've never claimed consistency. Instead of one watch, I have 11 of different colors to go with my clothes.

Our village has an annual Vide Grenier (attic emptier or flea market). There are hundreds of tables filled with almost anything imaginable that people want to get rid of.

I do love browsing from table to table set up throughout the center of the village. We found a set of soup bowls, with a lovely grape vine design, for a grand total of five euros. At first we thought it was five euros each, and at that they still would be a bargain. Juice glasses were seven euros for five glasses. The napkin rings that we hadn't been able to find before were 2 euros each.

Then I saw it. A Coca-Cola watch. It, too, was 5 euros. 

Yes it had a logo. BUT BUT BUT since I was a child, I loved Coke. My mother would buy six bottles a week, three for me, three for my brother. I'd drink my immediately whereas my brother would ration his. More than once, I stole his.

As an adult, I drank Coca-Cola for breakfast, lunch and dinner and in between in place of coffee. 

Then I realized I was getting chubby. Using more will power than I thought I had I reduced my Coke intake to one glass a month. The morning of that day, I would wake up thrilled that the day had arrived.

When Coke zero came on the market, my Coke drinking inched up until it was my meal beverage of choice. 

I usually have three criteria before buying something:

1. Beautiful
2. Useful
3. Has a memory

As we wandered the vide grenier I saw the Coca Cola watch for five euros. 

I bought it. 

Of course it didn't work. I took it to our local jeweler and asked him to add a battery. It still didn't work.

He said he could put in new works for a total of 48 Euros. 

Today, I'm wearing it for the first time. Since I also live in Switzerland, I know 48 euros isn't much to pay for a watch and it does meet my three criteria for buying something.

 

At the post

 

Mailing a registered letter at the post should be simple ... Right?

Wrong!

Rick filled out the form. On the address for the form, he had misplaced the Cedex (box) and zip code although it was correct on the envelope.

He redid it, but the clerk, who was very pleasant, wanted a third try.

We could reduce Cedex to CDX, he said. 

Meanwhile the line was growing, 2, 4, 7 people.

The third time pleased the clerk.

In all three slips the information was there on the same line. The only difference was the positioning.

When we walked out, apologizing to the ten people now in line.

I figure they were shaking their heads about American tourists (I've had a place there for 34 years). I'm Swiss Canadian and he's Swiss. 

We went back into the sunshine laughing. What else could we do?

Naming Character Help

Choosing names for characters can be a challenge. I need to consider, age, nationality, region, ethnicity among other things.

One can almost tell the generation based on names: My grandmother in the late 1800s was surrounded by Florences, Ediths and Graces.

My mother Dorothy born 1917 had Madelines, Ruths, Evelyns, and Eleanors. Dorothy was number three in popularity.

I was surrounded by other Donnas, Marys, Susans, Annes, Patricia, Dianes and Carols.

My daughter from the 60s/70s had Lauries, Jessicas and Jennifers. I named her Llara with the second L to make sure she was the only one. Her father vetoed Star and Cloud. Those names were never used in any of my writing, but if I'd had a hippie couple name a baby girl, I might have used one or the other.

The next generation introduced Madisons and Mackenzies.

I was amused at the list Massachusetts just posted for the most popular girls' names. There's a couple of throwbacks to earlier times, but there's not a Donna on it. I'm glad. In fact, none of the names for the year of my birth are on the 2023 list.

There are lists of names on the internet from other countries by year as well including Japan (with translation). 

I found some names were popular in several countries such as Olivia, Emma, Isabella and Mia. Some lists showed whether the name was gaining or losing in popularity.

My great grandmother's name Medora did not appear on any of the lists I checked but I will use it for the family saga I'm just beginning.

There are even lists of the 17th century and for Colonial times for those writing historical novels. Charlotte was the most popular back then and was last year as well.

Top 25 female baby names of 2023 in Massachusetts

1. Charlotte
2. Olivia
3. Emma
4. Sophia
5. Isabella
6. Mia
7. Amelia
8. Nora
9. Chloe
10. Evelyn
11. Maeve
12. Sofia
13. Isla
14. Grace
15. Lily
16. Luna
17. Lucy
18. Ava
19. Eleanor
20. Maya
21. Zoe
22. Madison
23. Aurora
24. Penelope
25. Emilia

Bartavelle, More than a Restaurant

 

 

Bartavelle is more than a restaurant for us. It is an experience and for the last decade plus it has represented more than dining at its finest.

Before Rick came into my life, my reward for a good week of writing was a lunch there. I'd take my book, sit in the corner and be rewarded with food that was imaginative, beautiful and every bite a delight.

The restaurant is run by a couple, Stephanie and Thibault who are more than chefs. They are artists with food as their canvas, although Stephanie is also an artist with paint.

12 years ago they prepared our pre-marriage commitment dinner where we could entertain the 16 people who traveled from other countries. One of the guests, also an artist, still says it's the best meal he ever had.

So, it was natural Rick and I would have our 9th anniversary meal there. (In France and Switzerland only a ceremony at city hall is legal.) 

Stephanie, in her charming and welcoming manner, described the choices. Thibault does combinations of spices, sauces and food that even my picky husband will savor things he ordinarily might not eat and love it. 

The Catalan couple seated next to us heard her congratulate us on our anniversary and we chatted a bit with them. They have been married 60 years.

Another couple, whom we had not noticed and not seen for a while, recognized us. He came over and we talked too. He said it was his wife's birthday.

We had some special olive oil to sample, the amuse bouche made me want to lick the pretty cup. I chose tuna, Rick chicken, but again, the imagination and the presentation was like nothing we ever had before. Trying to decide which bite to have next was a challenge, one we happily took.

Our deserts each had a tiny candle, and Stephanie had a special music box which played a tune. We whispered the woman two tables away had a birthday. Stephanie smiled, disappeared. When she returned, the woman, much to her surprise, was presented with a candled desert and music. 

The restaurant's other guests sang to us.

The upper floor of the restaurant have been turned into an art gallery featuring local artists. Before paying, we had to go up and see the new exhibition.

Before we left, the gentleman next to us, said in French. (I'm translating) "I'm a Catalan man, so I will say it in Catalan," Then he did: "Feliç aniversari i molts més."

Our anniversary was so much more than just a lunch. It was an experience.

If anyone reading this is ever in the area, we suggest a booking a meal here. https://www.restaurant-labartavelle.fr/

Marriage and Magnets

 

Today is the 9th anniversary of our official marriage at the Corsier, Switzerland Mairie. In Many European countries, the only legal marriage is done at the city hall. 

Our witnesses were my housemate and her son. We sat at a table as the legalese was read and signed our agreement with a silver Caran D'Arche pen which they gave to us, along with the huge bouquet decorating the table.

Although I'm a minimalist, I collect fine pens and still use it to write.

We went to lunch at Marro, our favorite restaurant. The manager gave us champagne. 

English/French are our house languages so when my housemate and her son started speaking in German, I was confused. My German is rusty at best, but I thought she was worried that he had to go to work and could she pick him up after. 

Back home it became a normal writing day. Late in the afternoon Rick and I decided to take a stroll along the lake, a mere five-minute walk from our front door to the water.

When we came home, we were greeted by friends and food, including the son's guacamole. He had made it back in time. The German now made sense. Bless our sneaky housemate for adding to that day making it a lovely end to the day with lovely people.

Two years before we had a commitment ceremony in France, legal only in our eyes but more important for the promises made.

The two events were different. In France there were 40 people from seven countries. Our Swiss friend played his cello, his wife read a poem. We talked to all the people present, people we knew and cared about.

 

Now what has this to do with the 150+ magnets gracing our fridge?

 

In a way they are a symbol of our marriage which has been extraodinarily happy.

 

This is not to say we haven't had minor annoyances.  99% of any problems have been extermal such as the struggle for Rick to get his nationality or my cancer. Yes, the cancer was external because it strengthened our relationship, although I would have preferred another method.

 

My favorite magnet. Push the bagpipe and it plays.

 

Everywhere we go, we bring home a magnet: they come from Scotland, Ireland, England, Boston, Germany, D.C., all parts of Switzerland and more. They mark our visits to museums and golf tournaments. Each one is a reminder of happiness on top of happiness. 

 

We also enjoy sitting on the couch, watching Netflix, reading in bed, sharing writing, a thousand little daily activities that make up our life together.

 

Nine years.

We received a card today from our witness. She said it all.

"9 years ago it became official! Lucky guys - and I, for one, am glad that you have had these years. Everyone is precious!"

She is right. Everyone is precious.

 

 

 

 

 

Free Write The Candle

 

A rainy Tuesday at Mille et Une as Rick and I prepared for our Free Write. In Switzerland, Julia received the prompt, a candle of a woman's face. As usual we took ten minutes to write non stop based on our response to the prompt.

Rick's Free Write Candle

She was a beauty. A face of perfect symmetry. The smoothest complexion. And that hair! Curls upon curls, layered atop her head, and tied in a bow under her chin.

But who was she? Archaeologists had discovered her mask in the ruins of a small Roman village in south central France, not far from Carcassonne.

Was she royalty ? A mistress to a general in Caesar’      army ? Or simply a village girl to whom the sculptor had taken a fancy ?

As the diggers explored deeper, they found bowls and combs and knives. The accouterments of a hairdresser perhaps ? Or mere household items ?

They decided to call her ‘Tress,’ a shortened and modified version of Theresa. ‘Tress of the Corbières,’ one English digger wagged.

Did Tress have any descendants still living in the village ? Or had her line died out in the various plagues and wars that had ravaged the region ?

Tress is now proudly displayed in the tiny museum in centreville. You can take her home to live with you – as a candle, a postcard, or a magnet.

D-L's Free Write The Waxed Mask

Thomas watched the cleanup of champagne glasses after the vernisage. He preferred the French term for an opening just as he named his gallery Les Bougies instead of the Candles.

Everyone told him a gallery of just candles would never work, even on Boston's arty Newbury Street.

They were wrong. The number of sold red dots proved him right.

He wondered if any of the buyers of his one-of-a-kind candles would burn them after paying four figures.

His buildings, the Sydney Opera House, the White House and Buckingham Palace with the royal family waving on the balcony, all sold quickly.

His panoramas sold even better. His first sale had been the boat on a sea with dolphin candles around it.

Stephanie's mask hasn't sold because he already had placed a red dot making it his forever.

How he had to fight with her to do it. She didn't want to be immortalized in wax. She'd called him crazy,

The skin-colored face with it perfect features rested in its place of honor in the center of the gallery: Closed eyes, a perfect nose, a mouth made for kissing.

 Curls surrounded Stephanie's candle face. His name for this candle, Death Mask, would stay his secret. 

Julia's Free Write

She was gorgeous, albeit very pale.

A patrician nose, curly hair, lips that were just a tad too small and puckered. She wasn’t frowning, nor smiling; her eyes were closed.  Did she not wish to see, or was she internalizing what she had seen?

No indication of her origins, neither by dress nor skin, although her hairdo wasn’t currently popular.

Sitting in a corner with a telephone by her side, I wonder who has called her or whom she has called.

Does she have a family, children, a job, or not?

And so my mind wanders.

But wait, questions all answered: “she” isn’t a person at all but a very life-like female head made in wax: yes, you read that correctly, “she” is a candle; one with a wick that has never been lit

Julia has written and taken photos all her life and loves syncing up with friends.  Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/ 

Rick is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices. com

 

D-L has had 17 fiction and non fiction books published. Check out her website at: https://dlnelsonwriter.com