Never underestimate the joy you get from spending the day with some friends you love, eating good food, and talking.... especially when there is a spectacular view. As this year is coming to an end, I am excited about the prospect of moving forward in our work as a writing circle. I cherish the group, our writing, our talking about writing, our camaraderie.
Happiness is having friends...
to write with
to laugh with
to eat with
to drink with
to enjoy life with
to share with
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Algebratization
Back in November, I wrote about a poetry workshop I attended during the Sanibel Island Writers Conference. Nickole Brown gave us so many nuggets of wisdom and inspiration. We talked a lot about symbolism and imagery, and how they work as literary tools. You may recall I wrote about the word ostranenie, meaning to make strange. As writers, poets, Brown asked us to start looking at things as though we had never seen them before. It was a powerful way to conjure up images and words for things we had long been looking at with familiar eyes.
Another idea she shared with us, was the concept she called algebratization. It's funny, I looked it up when I got home, trying to find a more literary definition, but was unsuccessful. Look it up, and all you will find are mathematical explanations. However, the math definitions can easily be applied to the literary interpretation Brown gave us. She explained algebratization as when we turn something in our lives into an automatic symbol, a cliche. Thus, when we think of that word or phrases, we are stuck with that automatic symbol instead of real, imagery taken in with our senses. It's a fascinating concept. Here is an example:
What do you think of when I say house? Or when I say tree or apple?
Many of us picture a symbol- the generic boxy house everyone draws when they draw a house. How about the tree? This time of year, you might picture a Christmas tree. Or because I live in Florida, I might picture a palm tree. A child might just draw that generic lollipop tree with a straight trunk and pom pom top. And the apple. More than likely you picture a Red Delicious apple or one quite similar.
The point is, we bank these icons as images for these everyday objects and fail to notice, and as writers describe, the very detailed intricacies of these things. Look out the window at a tree. Does it look like the icon image of a tree, or is it much more complex than that. When we did this with Nickole Brown, she pointed out the window of the Big Arts Building on Sanibel Island. We were looking at a beautiful expansive, not uniform series of branches from a non-icon image looking tree. She referred to the trees in North Carolina this time of year, and how different they would look in the middle of fall. I wrote down part of the description she gave, because it seemed to come so effortlessly. She said the leafless branches looked like nerve endings up in the sky. I knew just what she was saying, and I didn't picture the tree icon we have become so accustomed to.
There was no specific writing task we completed after this discussion, just a powerful reminder not to become lazy with the way we describe things as writers. We don't want our readers to picture just any tree or apple, we want them to picture the very specific one we seek to create for them in their minds. It was a great lesson, and a brilliant take away.
Another idea she shared with us, was the concept she called algebratization. It's funny, I looked it up when I got home, trying to find a more literary definition, but was unsuccessful. Look it up, and all you will find are mathematical explanations. However, the math definitions can easily be applied to the literary interpretation Brown gave us. She explained algebratization as when we turn something in our lives into an automatic symbol, a cliche. Thus, when we think of that word or phrases, we are stuck with that automatic symbol instead of real, imagery taken in with our senses. It's a fascinating concept. Here is an example:
What do you think of when I say house? Or when I say tree or apple?
Many of us picture a symbol- the generic boxy house everyone draws when they draw a house. How about the tree? This time of year, you might picture a Christmas tree. Or because I live in Florida, I might picture a palm tree. A child might just draw that generic lollipop tree with a straight trunk and pom pom top. And the apple. More than likely you picture a Red Delicious apple or one quite similar.
The point is, we bank these icons as images for these everyday objects and fail to notice, and as writers describe, the very detailed intricacies of these things. Look out the window at a tree. Does it look like the icon image of a tree, or is it much more complex than that. When we did this with Nickole Brown, she pointed out the window of the Big Arts Building on Sanibel Island. We were looking at a beautiful expansive, not uniform series of branches from a non-icon image looking tree. She referred to the trees in North Carolina this time of year, and how different they would look in the middle of fall. I wrote down part of the description she gave, because it seemed to come so effortlessly. She said the leafless branches looked like nerve endings up in the sky. I knew just what she was saying, and I didn't picture the tree icon we have become so accustomed to.
There was no specific writing task we completed after this discussion, just a powerful reminder not to become lazy with the way we describe things as writers. We don't want our readers to picture just any tree or apple, we want them to picture the very specific one we seek to create for them in their minds. It was a great lesson, and a brilliant take away.
Sunday, May 15, 2016
New Beginning
I attended a wonderful writing retreat this weekend, and had an opportunity to work on some poetry. Yesterday, I posted one of the poems I wrote on the retreat. Today, I spent some time processing the experience and felt inspired by one of the photos I took, to write another poem. I first posted it on a collaborative blog I write with my writing group, TrailBrazen. I decided to share here too. Enjoy.
New Beginning
by Laurie J. Kemp
Glorious is the sun rising over a new day,
out of the swirling clouds like a genie from a bottle.
Her golden glow casts metallic iridescence
over the dark surface of the deep blue waters.
She lifts gradually, higher into the great wide open
basking in her own reflection,
shadowing the clouds slowly melting them away.
Up from the horizon she takes her throne in the heavens
and the expanse of her golden light clears
the azure, vibrant and bright.
And we rise with the sun
her warmth, her glow, her power
and her promise of a new beginning.
New Beginning
by Laurie J. Kemp
Glorious is the sun rising over a new day,
out of the swirling clouds like a genie from a bottle.
Her golden glow casts metallic iridescence
over the dark surface of the deep blue waters.
She lifts gradually, higher into the great wide open
basking in her own reflection,
shadowing the clouds slowly melting them away.
Up from the horizon she takes her throne in the heavens
and the expanse of her golden light clears
the azure, vibrant and bright.
And we rise with the sun
her warmth, her glow, her power
and her promise of a new beginning.
Saturday, May 14, 2016
But the Beach*
I would like to write a poem about the beach like it's just any other place.
But it seems impossible, unjustifiable.
Whatever I look at, whatever I hear or feel seems blissful.
Cloudy swirls in the slowly drifting brackish estuary,
flanking the aquabatics of the jumping silver fish creating his own rippling three ring spotlight.
As for the shoreline, forget it.
Broken pieces of pearlescent shells bejeweling the Gulf Coast sand,
hosting an organized scatter of ruddy turnstones pecking for a late morning snack.
A slick dome shaped shell, freckled in fine point black specks and tiny little fissures.
I tried to walk away, but of course the Gulf.
The innumerable hues of greens and blues in a perfect water color blend drew me in further.
My feet gently sunk into the silky wet sand as the salty water washed and cleansed me, setting my feet in deeper.
The foam where the water meets the sand, bathing the coast in champagne -like bubbles in celebration of all its glory.
So I tried to shut my eyes, but of course the beach.
I could hear the pushing and pulling of the tide and the gush of the flowing sea.
I heard the sound of the coastal breezes whirring around my ears and through my hair and the trees.
They seem to sing to me in prayer, giving me a message, a meaning, or saying nothing at all.
So special is the beach, who knows maybe it is sacred.
So special is the beach, who knows, maybe the sky above it is sacred too.
And the silver fish, and the mollusks and the ruddy turnstones,
and the sand and the sea, and me.
We are one and the same.
Sacred yet ordinary.
*This poem was written following a series of writing exercises at the 2nd Annual Women's Writing Retreat at Lover's Key. I used Mary Oliver's poem This World.
But it seems impossible, unjustifiable.
Whatever I look at, whatever I hear or feel seems blissful.
Cloudy swirls in the slowly drifting brackish estuary,
flanking the aquabatics of the jumping silver fish creating his own rippling three ring spotlight.
As for the shoreline, forget it.
Broken pieces of pearlescent shells bejeweling the Gulf Coast sand,
hosting an organized scatter of ruddy turnstones pecking for a late morning snack.
A slick dome shaped shell, freckled in fine point black specks and tiny little fissures.
I tried to walk away, but of course the Gulf.
The innumerable hues of greens and blues in a perfect water color blend drew me in further.
My feet gently sunk into the silky wet sand as the salty water washed and cleansed me, setting my feet in deeper.
The foam where the water meets the sand, bathing the coast in champagne -like bubbles in celebration of all its glory.
So I tried to shut my eyes, but of course the beach.
I could hear the pushing and pulling of the tide and the gush of the flowing sea.
I heard the sound of the coastal breezes whirring around my ears and through my hair and the trees.
They seem to sing to me in prayer, giving me a message, a meaning, or saying nothing at all.
So special is the beach, who knows maybe it is sacred.
So special is the beach, who knows, maybe the sky above it is sacred too.
And the silver fish, and the mollusks and the ruddy turnstones,
and the sand and the sea, and me.
We are one and the same.
Sacred yet ordinary.
*This poem was written following a series of writing exercises at the 2nd Annual Women's Writing Retreat at Lover's Key. I used Mary Oliver's poem This World.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
Getting Ready to Retreat
I could write about several things today. But mostly I'm just happy. All of the state testing is finally finished at school! Though I did many of them, I did not have to administer every session myself this year which was great- thanks to my great teaching staff. I'm relieved it's all over. Now I can breathe again and start working on some of my other responsibilities at work. I'm making some [not so healthy but very comforting] homemade shells and cheese for dinner. And I've been organizing and preparing all evening for the Annual Women's Writing Retreat at Lover's Key Resort this weekend. I'm proud of myself for starting this with my writing group last year, just on a whim. I really wanted to get away and have some downtime to write. A few of my writing buddies agreed, and the retreat was born. I got started earlier this year, and got a lot of help from Helen, one of my group mates. We've planning the agenda for a couple of months, and now I'm getting the final details together. We even got a shirt made this year! All in all, we will have somewhere between 10-15 women and I am quite excited for the 2nd Annual Women's Writing Retreat. A weekend of writing, nature, camaraderie, and a beautiful beach condo. I. am. ready!
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| Write what you want and it will always matter for ages! |
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| So why not create a writing vacation? Writing Retreat here we come! |
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| Ready to be drenched and soaked, all weekend! |
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| Ready to exercise my qualifications! |
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Love in the New Year
In the last several years, I have been on a journey to make writing an increasingly bigger priority in my life. Since becoming a member of the National Writing Project in 2010, I have been inspired in my work and play to write in many ways and for many reasons. I have written on several personal blogs, and in 2015 I began to publish in a shared blog with the spectacular women in my writing group. This year, in 2016, I am making a commitment to daily writing. That's right, every day.
On this blog, I'm going to explore love in all its forms, in any way or place I can find. I am committed not only to write, but to look for and see good, no- love- in the world. Love, tiny and unassuming or love, grandiose and out there on parade, we can never have enough. I don't know where it will take my writing, but I know it will fill my heart and give me lots of room to explore. The possibilities are limitless. Here's to a 2016 filled with love!
On this blog, I'm going to explore love in all its forms, in any way or place I can find. I am committed not only to write, but to look for and see good, no- love- in the world. Love, tiny and unassuming or love, grandiose and out there on parade, we can never have enough. I don't know where it will take my writing, but I know it will fill my heart and give me lots of room to explore. The possibilities are limitless. Here's to a 2016 filled with love!
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