Author: carolyncordon

When the mind feel like a holiday from coming up with new ideas for the novel I’m writing, new back story, dialogue, plot issues and answers, that’s when it may be time for writing some more non fiction. And right now, that is just the spot I feel I am currently in.

It’s Mothers Day, and I am having a lovely day of doing not much really, while my husband gets on with doing things – making coffee first thing in the morning for me, as a lovely Mothers Day gift, then cleaning, and now working hard on getting our main meal cooked and lovely. Roast chicken with vegetables, in the Weber, lovely!

I was reading various things on Facebook and Twitter, then I decided it was time to get some writing done. If I want to call myself a writer, I have to write, right? Right! So I’ve spent a few hours adding to my current non fiction work, an exploration on the everyday wisdoms I have found, and am continuing to find, in my life. I envisage this book being popular with people who are working at finding deeper meaning in their own life.

(this book case is right next to me, when I sit on the sofa with my laptop, and write, and the green and blue thing is a small blanket I’ve been meaning to finish crocheting, but need to get more yarn for, and keep forgetting to …)

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This book is still a long way from finished, but I am finding the writing process a satisfying one, thinking, then writing, thinking, writing some more. The word count is slowly rising, but there are still many more words that need to be written.

And today, , a few days past Mothers Day, I have connected with this blog post, in draft form and am finishing it off, having just posted a new blog post here, with a new Creative Writing exercise, the sixth one. I’m happy with the post, it’s a good writing exercise, about using the senses in your writing, which is always a good idea to try to remember to do. It brings more into your writing.

It was a creative writing workshop I help a couple of years ago, so I had to make a few changes, which is definitely a ‘non-fictionish’ kind of thing to do. Perhaps I’ll get some more of that novel written today too, and more of the non fiction manuscript I’ve been working on, off and on.

So another blog post done, and posted, I’ll finish that coffee, feed Missy, then get my own lunch happening! Life, such a lovely life, I am living here!

There are at least five senses usually recognised for humans. They are the ability to see, hear, smell, touch and taste. Some people may add in another sense, extrasensory perception, which relates to things sensed through the mind, rather than the body. For this exercise, we will refer to as many of these senses as we can, in one poem.

The actual theme of the poem is free choice, but make sure it’s something suitable for the exercise. Think about life, where you are right now, with things to taste – food and beverages, on a main street with cars to hear as they drive by. Where are you seated, and what and where? On a steady and solid chair, at an also solid table, with paper, pens and other things to pick up and feel. Or somewhere else?

Or you may remember your latest visit to a garden, your own or someone else’s. With the wind, the sky, trees and creatures – birds, insects, flys, bees, flowers … Smell the flowers, feel the breeze, is there any heat form the sunshine, how does if feel?

Or you may like to remember something from your past, a special place you’ve visited, for instance. Remember back to that time, and recall it through memories of how your senses perceived it … I’m thinking about my many visits to the Torrens River from when I was a school kind. I’ve never written about that, even though it was an important part of my growing up.

This poem of mine takes in some of these thoughts:

Making Sense of Life

Wind plays with the chimes

And willie wagtail joins in

Cheeping and chirping in tune

Wind through pine trees

gives a constant droning backdrop

And sparrows join in too,

repetitive chirps, constant reminder,

they’re here as well.

The occasional car is a different sound

Intrusive but infrequent

As are billowing clouds of dust

That threaten me as I sit here

On our front veranda

Senses switched on and tuned in

Experiencing everything.

The wind in my hair tickles and taunts

Blowing across my face

And into my eyes, nose and mouth

Reminding me of its length

As I think of times long gone

When my hair was a glorious

Childhood Cloak of honour,

Thick and golden honey-red.

Now my hair is falling out,

Boring brown hairs disappearing

As the wind catches loose strands

And takes them out of sight,

But not out of mind.

Memory and mirror

Hold truths for me,

Separate but connected.

The past still remains

But life changes it, prunes away

Even as it adds.

Memories take on different meanings,

Insights reveal adult truths

Or child-like ones, showing truth

In a new and textured way,

Where meaning has many ways of being,

And all can be true. Or none.

So that’s what we’re doing, get thinking, and then get writing!