Writing Group: Why do you write?

Has anyone else found that now with the WWW ( I remember when it all started ) that you get more involved? That subjects that you have always had a passion for now has a place for you to add your voice? My passion has always been animals. I tend to get out of hand when I read something someone stupid done. Oh man and you do not even want to get me started on wolves mistreatment. My latest rant has been about abandoned donkeys and mules. What is bad is as I am writing on blogs or commenting on web sites I am also thinking about the argument each line could cause so I write to rebuff them before they are said. I think my last e-mail was to members of government about the shooting of the donkeys and mules. It was 5 pages long in ms word. LOL I am sure they are still reading it a week later…LOL So anyone else or am I just a loose screw on my own? LOL

I've done that with school. I was in a grad program to get my MA in Elementary Education and became so irate about the condition of our schools and the lack of actual teaching that takes place at the graduate level that I wound up writing a 20 page letter to the board of the school and getting a refund for the class I was in. Unfortunately, the next class wasn't any better and wound up switching majors…

Teachers and teaching our children has been a joke since I left school. Teaching children to pass an TATS test instead of teaching reasoning and problem solving and not to mention the art of writing and use of English is CRAZY. I was lucky my boys were way head of the curve because I made a point to teach these things at home. I was then called on the carpet for advancing them past their grade. My oldest boy graduated at 16 and my youngest finished a 6 year degree in 4. I blame the teachers some but like you said they teach as they are shown in school of higher learning. My grand daughter is 2 and can spell, read, count to 20 in English and Spanish knows all of her prime colors in both as well. I am sure I will get a call about her as well. Oh and I am teaching her problem solving skills.

That's truly impressive!

I think my favorite passionate banter was with Ted Nugent. He is an avid hunter and I have no problem with hunting for food. Now hunting for wolves out of a helicopter in Alaska and bragging about it, that was a problem. He and I went back and forth for about a week until he said " You are just uninformed and lazy " then my replay was " Lack of an intelligent answer to my question and a personal attack towards me shows me who is what "

Our education system is so far behind and has been for so long there is several generations of uneducated graduates. Bad teaching shows how far back it really goes. I love teachers and know they do there best. It is just coming into the classroom with not enough tools to do their job is not fair to them. Students graduating from high school with no clue about a subject because of the money the state pays the school for each one in a seat. Saddens me to no end. They talk about children falling through the cracks, there is no cracks it is a caravan that the whole system fell into. I respect them for their efforts but it is such an uphill battle.

A Meditation on Suburban Silence

There is no silence.
Even environments void of the electronic buzz of Americanized entertainment are filled with the ever present groan of powered devices.
The shrill cry of drills and hammering waft through my open windows. The temperature automated fans hum monotonously. The refrigerator drones endlessly… stories of energy efficiency and processed foods in need of constant cooling.
Helicopters' oscillating blades alert Lily to boof and grunt while compulsively wiggling on her back, whining towards the back patio.
The curiously high pitched whine of a power saw hopelessly aspires to modernize old, tired kitchens.
This is the silence said to heal the soul and quiet a rampant mind.
Oh… the saturated sobs of suburban silence.

The use of personification is quite imaginitavely impacting as well as politically descriptive. I like the the way you have used the two together, and still be able the make a directly sense-like impression. What kind of style were you going for in terms of format? It seems very interpretive without a poetic structure. Intriguing.

Thank you.

Posted a new prompt for next week in another string… so this one doesn't get too hard to navigate. It occurred to me that you guys might like the opportunity to have old pieces reviewed as well. Feel free! Bring it on!

This week:
http://www.bipolardisorderconnect.com/discuss...

I kind of love this! I'm working on a novel right now and I was wondering if this could somehow work for that too, or if someone was interested in looking/talking it over?

I'm sure we can work out something… perhaps for this week. Maybe smaller pieces at a time though as it can be overwhelming to read a large chunk of writing. Is it BP sensitive? That's my only concern really.

I don't really know if it is? It's more of a tale or something. And even though pretty much every character in it is crazy, -some the bp kind- I think you might be right and that maybe I should find something else to do with it? I really like reading you guys' stuff though, so keep up the good work!

but now i'm curious!

I think I gave feedback to everyone. Someone else want to take over for this week? Anyone have suggestions for a writing prompt? Great job everyone… we've got some awesome writers.

Esnes ralop-ib eht ni
Yaw ysae on em rof, ecniw
… gnid yllid yllis
Ssuf
Tsum a dnuor lrihw

Psychedelic.

Do you usually write backwards? Lol

med change, kinda the way i feel !! i'll make a better effort later, but this post is kool !!!

I need one of those… alas, I'm pregnant so no go on the cocktail experience. If I wrote about how I felt right now I'd have to kick myself out of the group.

I guess I misunderstood whatthis group was gonna be about. I don't mind writing, but I don't want it dissected like a frog in a lab. I'm not in school anymore and I didn't like my English teacher anyway. So I guess I'm out. Sorry I didn't realize what this would be.

Guess you can't please em all… sad. I'm sure something will come along that will be a better fit. ;o)

When I write, I do not do it as often as I use to, it is to quite my mind. I have racing thoughts and sometimes it helps to focus them somewhere. I have wrote poems, at least they are to me. During manic times I write sexual fantasies to keep me from acting out, short stories I guess you would call them. When I am going through a really low I tend not to write, not sure why. I posted one of my recent poems here somewhere but I will post it again. Sorry it is long and I do not mind critiques, they are just opinions not the end of the world.

A chat with an old friend and foe

I woke up this morning
Then my feet hit the floor
Today will be a new day
Let’s see what’s in store

Then I heard it
The knock at the door
I said not today
I will be sad no more

I ignored it
I played like I was not here
Then someone said softly
Open the door my dear

Don’t try to hide
No reason to fear
It is me bi-polar
I am always so near

I said to Bi-polar
Just please go away
Today is a fresh start
I just ask for one day

I am sure there is some other place
Where you could go and play
Find somewhere else
Where you are willing to stay

Bi-polar shook it’s head
Then it said to me
We are old friends
I cannot just let you be

We have join souls
It is easy to see
Now open the door
You cannot go free

Bi-polar I said
Find somewhere else to play
Is it really too much to ask
To give me a free day

Just give this one to me
Really just go away
I know I have to fight you
Or you will just stay

No said Bi-polar
I cannot go away
You could forget me
If I gave you this day

I could wither and die
If I just go and not stay
What would be the fun in that
All I need is one nerve to fray

I thought and cried
Okay just come on and sit
I see you will not go
No matter my fit

Then I turned my head
And a candle I lit
The day is now done
So I cried and just quit

Now the day is over
We might was well dine
Bi-polar said with a smirk
You know your heart is not mine

If you had thought a bit harder
I would have died on the vine
I am just a shadow
There is where I wait in line

I know you fight everyday
And sometimes I let you win
Bu to lose you now
That would be a sin

Tomorrow is another day
And you will always let me in
You will never failed
That is the way it has always been

You are not my friend
I just stood to say
I will just add more armor
Your begging can return everyday

Then I will stand and fight you
You will not have my day
Tomorrow I will beat you
Then maybe you will just go away

My dear don’t you know
I will not just up leave
I have more than one trick
Here just up my sleeve

I do not have to fight you
Don’t be so naïve
All I have to do is stand here
Because you already believe

My heart is mine
That is what you said
Everyday my heart will shine brighter
Until the day you are dead

So tomorrow I will get up
I will get out of bed
Then when you come knocking
You will learn that I have fled

On to a better day
That is when it will start
I can see a brighter day
The day we will part

I cannot believe I missed that
See you are not so smart
Because now I know your weakness
It was always my heart

This reminds me of… what was that book… Marya Hornbacher's Madness, I believe. She talks about BP being a monster hiding in the crawl space when she's well, just waiting to pounce. It's always there, just sometimes sleeping. Love the idea and I'm partial to rhyming, does make it harder to articulate however. Thanks for sharing!

Thank you.

How bout some critiques folks… Perhaps those that posted should specify any questions or concerns that they might have that reader can focus on to try and help.

Rjinn, I'm waiting to see if you get more feedback before I dissect your piece.
Stillill, is there anything you would like further critiqued?
Lost79, anything in particular you would like us to focus on?

Anyone else happening by… it's not too late! Post a response for us. ;o)

Fitting for obscure poetry.

Stains on the mind, becomes a brain in head.
Festers into denial, seeks a roadblock instead.
Momentous rollers.
Winded strollers.
Tenacious urges cannot catch.
Keep up, just to exceed in match.

Until paper hands a life sentence ail.
Colors of ash, like shades of jail.
Sit and reflect, through lines of a square.
Semblance of pencils, points to stare.
Sharpen what is in front, instruments a buy.
Progressed suffocation, restoration must apply. 
Squeeze through pillars before, squeeze through affront.
Swings in juxtapose, understanding the hunt.

Find the key that be, before efforts made of stone.
Shape and lines, seeks a language not fore grown.
Opened eyes, sees reflection of a nonsensed mind.
Sentenced colors show, through counterfeited behinds.
Rearranging in mirror, the outlooks of change.
Black, white, expand, degenerate to derange.   

Warning clouds upon a stress.
Choice is owned, executes finesse. 
Clear as the sun, dark as night.
Arise the horizon, a line,
To write.

Ok, here goes nothing…
This is what I got from your piece.
I imagined the writer having two separate mentalities. That some harm had created another perspective of sorts. To sooth what must be very disorganized thinking and troublesome thoughts, I imagined the writer indulging in some sort of drug as a 'roadblock'. Then I imagined that drug activity becoming a gamble (momentous rollers) and taking possibly harmful risks.
Paper handing a life sentence… I imagine trouble with the law due to the risk taking. 'Sit and reflect, through lines of a square', I imagined a jail cell. The suppression one must feel being in jail and the necessity of conforming to be 'well'. Understanding that there are certain things that someone must do to fit into society once again that may be against initial reflexes… 'swings to juxtapose, understanding the hunt'.
I see the link to journaling in the 3rd stanza and strewn throughout. 'Opened eyes, sees reflection of nonsensed mind' reminds me of the beginning when I personally established 2 separate trains of thought. ;o)
And in the final stanza, becoming accountable (choice is owned) for actions that may not have been intended and may have been the doing of that risk taking orientation.
So essentially, I saw bipolar mind in your piece. I saw one mind so tortured that it basically split off into mania. When things come down a bit the consequences are everywhere and once again, the stable mind must pick up the pieces.

I love your interpretation. Might have to get you to read all my poetry. :P

Keep it comin'!

Critiquing poetry is a difficult task. The symbolism means something different to everyone and I hesitate to ask what your intention is here as it will influence the message everyone else interprets. What are your thoughts on this?

Open for interpretation is definitely one of my fortes. I mostly centre around the symbolism in art. Let's see if I can outline it.
My idea came from an autobiographical diary of somebody who reformed, except shifted the context of a dairy to poetry. The first was an outline how it began as reckless and lunatic conduct. The second came from the concept of consequences (I used the idea of confinement) which later ceased in some bid to escape. The third is reflection and change (looking at a mirror) and finally freedom. But mostly, as you say, I wanted it to be left thought-provoking. :p I apologize for making it difficult to critique though. (also a note: the response box wouldn't let me punctually seperate the stanzas properly for some reason)

Give me a couple more reads and I might come up with something constructive to say! Really liking the 3rd stanza. Tell me you hope to do this for a living?!?!

Excellent. I'm not capable of this type of writing and am always amazed at the ability of those who do possees this talent.

I write for many reasons…to get something off my chest, to declare my love, to help me distinguish my thoughts and feelings, to try to understand myself…
" will they miss me when I'm gone, no longer beside them, no longer there to worry about. I have no more laughter, just tears and rage, I will no longer hurt you when I'm gone. Will you miss me even if I was mean or sweet, will they really miss me when I'm gone. I will no longer take a place at the table where we gather to eat, I will no longer leave a damp towel or a warm spot on my side of the bed, but will you miss me when I'm gone.…i will no longer be there to guide you through life, to hold your hand, to hold you when you cry, to tuck you in, to read you your favorite book.Will you miss me when I'm gone. As my last breath leaves my mouth my thoughts are how much I love you all, but my last breath is a sign that I can no longer hurt you, but will you miss me when I'm gone…"

Emotional. I got a very lyrical impression of the larger part of the work. I personally think the discriptive part didn't really fit the flow, and the rest just be created in a lyrical format.

The quotation marks indicate that you are crediting another source. Is this a favorite poem? Do you know the author?

Nope all mine…just threw in quotation marks, why, I dont know.

We both seem to struggle with proper usage of punctuation. I'm a comma splicer by nature and have to fight to avoid using them in place of just about any other punctuation.
In most cases, I personally don't feel it detracts from most writing but there are exceptions. It almost seems that you should try to format your piece as a poem as opposed to a chunk of writing. It is rather segmented and almost set up to be transferred directly to poetic form.
Thoughts?

She peered from the curtain to watch yet another falling of leaves at Summer's end. Rarely venturing out, she lived now to see the world only through the uncleaned windows from a tiny sliver of light provided by the parted drapes. The Winter months would soon arrive and she would find herself peering at the first fall of snow, a small delight in an otherwise darkened life. She would do this many times each day. Perhaps fortunate to see a neighbor walking a dog and meeting a friend along the way. Inventive snatches of conversation would be modified in her mind to include the women looking her way and perhaps, someone would come to inquire. It had not happened in the past but there was always the smallest hope.

Elaine would not move from this one place save to look in on her bedridden husband who had succumbed to dementia years before, the condition worsening with each passing season. He no longer knew his wife and she was aware. But she would not leave him there until he passed. Perhaps he would yet remember some small part of the years they had been together. But she was now aware that she too had moved away to her life by the curtain. And while the past faded in the room, her future faded before her as well. Through leaves, and barren trees, rebirth of Spring and Summer's light. So little contact. So precious little companionship with all that is human.

And even these events now embraced a larger frame of reference, until the little home with its drawn curtain and the two souls therein would simply fade into the greater space of all that would eventually be no more.

I had many different interpretations of this piece. Fantastical, medieval and somehow surreal. I like the manner of your storytelling. Very old time feel. Bluesy with heart, and in terms of character expression, powerful.

I like the imagery that you've included in your short piece. It's amazing how a well written passage can contain so much information without overdoing it.

I had an issue with this passage:
"Inventive snatches of conversation would be modified in her mind to include the woman they clearly saw looking their way and perhaps, someone would come to inquire."

I'm curious as to whether the confusion of perspective was intentional… you refer to Elaine as 'they'.

I also wonder if there is intentional symbolism in your piece. I believe each reader will interpret a story based on their own personal experiences and therefore, will 'translate' your story for their own purposes, but I'm always curious to find out the writers' intentions.

Thank you for sharing. I can see that your contribution will be very helpful and encouraging.

I just read this now friday Am. I can't spell but want to give this a shot, so will think and try to come up with something.

I write to express how I feel at any given time. So much of the time I do not get it down on papper it just flows through my head. It is 2:17 AM and I must try and get some sleep as i have a long day tom,.

Would you like the opportunity to elaborate on this a bit more? Stumble upon any extra time?

I get these storys and things running through my head and it is always when I am not where I can get them down then they are gone. I am fixing up a office for my on line corses and that will help I belive once I have a place were I can run and get them down I will be able to capture what I want and than elaborate on them.

Have you tried jotting down just the main idea. Maybe a key concept and then coming back to it? Does that jog your memory at all? I do the same… come up with something I'm excited to write about but it always seems to be an inappropriate time and then I lose it. Easier said then done but I know that if you're serious about developing writing skills, it's very common for those individuals to wonder around with a tiny memo book and pen at ALL times. Or take a note in your phone… another idea I have failed to try. Ha ha… the phrase, do as I say, not as I do, comes to mind.

Sounds good I will give it a try. Thanks

Thanks for the tip. I modified that sentence . Hopefully it is a bit more clear now. It is my intention for readers to see what they wish to see. I have no such experience and can only imagine what it is like for a person dealing with a loved one with dementia who loses contact not only with the inside world of the two primary characters but to also to lose touch with the outside world as a result. It's an exercise in trying to convey a certain feeling.

Also, is there a cryptic message included that explains why you write?

If there is a cryptic message, someone would have to explain it to me. I've never written before. English is my second language so it's difficult for me to really write anything cohesive. I have to work at it quite a bit, so I suppose I'm simply practicing a craft and I'm hoping for some feedback such as you are giving to improve the skill level.

That's pretty awesome! Keep it up!

To write

To write

The words spin violently, threatening to funnel and suck everything in. If they are not exorcized the path of destruction may be irreparable. Best for this tornado to take place beyond the arachnoid space of my mind…

***
Not to write

I can feel the fog lurking in the corners and crevices of my mind. Occasionally, the mist dissipates and I can literally feel the weight of the dense, thick, air retreat.

The trickle of creativity meanders through winding paths, disappearing into the undergrowth for undefined periods. Reemerging spontaneously… if only for a moment.

I desperately cling to the hope that such an inconsistent trickle may etch its' way into my mind and become, once again, a more permanent and reliable fixture.

***
To write

The blood boils at the nape of my neck, threatening spontaneous combustion. Angry fingers poke out seething words on the keyboard, racing to keep up. The imagery is all too real in my head. On the monitor, there is a certain illusory quality, both labile and flammable… not as permanent and precarious as the smoking images in my mind.

love this.

Write us something magnificent… no pressure