Christy's Writing Corner

Back in Time, Moments of FEAR

2008-06-28T08:51:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, it's been forever. I'm back. I've decided to just open my writing book at random instead of going in order. I needed some spice and unorderly writing. So we're going to go at random for awhile, then I'll fill in the blanks in the book and find the chapters I've missed.

So I opened up to Chapter 9 "Put Your Heart on the Page" of the second section (II. NOTEBOOKS, JOURNALS, and MEMORY)

In a letter to a Radcliffe student, F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote of the price she must pay for aspiring to be a professional writer:

"You've got to sell your heart, your strongest reactions, not the little minor things that only touch you lightly, the little experiences that you might tell at dinner. This is especially true when you begin to write, when you have not yet developed the tricks of interesting people on paper, when you have none of the technique which it takes time to learn. When, in short, you have only your emotions to sell."

Too many writers avoid their own strongest feelings because they are afraid of them, or because they are afraid of being sentimental. Yet these are the very things that will make beginning work ring true and affect us. Your stories have to matter to you the writer before they can matter to the reader; your story has to affect you, before it can affect us. William Kittredge says, "If you are not risking sentimentality, you are not close to your inner self."

THE EXERCISE

Make a notebook entry on an early childhood event that made you cry or terrified you, or that made you weak with shame or triumphant with revenge. Then write a story about that event. Take us back to those traumatic times, relive them for us through your story in a way so as to make your experience ours.

THE OBJECTIVE

To learn to identify events in your life that are capable of making you laugh and cry. If you can capture these emotions and put them on paper, chances are you will also make your readers laugh and cry as well.

As a child, I had a few terrifying moments that I do recall. Here's one of them:

I'm on the phone with my friend J and she tells me (radio on in background) "let's call the radio station and request it!" There was a particular song we both wanted to hear at that very moment and when we were children we didn't have the internet to pull up a new song we wanted to hear if we didn't already have the tape cassette or record album. So J immediately came over, she was only three houses down from me and we called the radio station together. I was talking to the announcer and discovered we were on the air!! Oh my gosh! Weird. But exciting! We had just won tickets to something. "Outrageous Fortune?" What is that? I asked the announcer. He said it's a movie and we won tickets to this movie. So he proceeded to tell me how to get to the radio station and pick up our tickets.

My parents weren't home. We were alone. Not such a big thing back in our day. We were maybe 12 and 14, I don't even remember. Definitely not an uncommon thing though as far as I know, not like it is these days. So we had to wait until my mom or dad came home to take us out there. This was all the way in Mesa and at that time we lived in Glendale. Long drive so I wasn't even sure my parents would take us that day. It was a saturday and we had nothing else to do but our usual hanging out, being creative and finding things to entertain ourselves. This was a big deal to need a ride to a radio station. We'd never been to one before. We'd never won anything before. Huge deal. We were so anxious for them to come home. Where are they? Why are they taking so long? We couldn't think of anything else. We tried to occupy ourselves while waiting but we were wild with anticipation. Fiiiiiiiinally my parents arrived home.

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!! Guess what? Guess what? "What?" he asks. Can you take J and me to the radio station? We won tickets!! "You did? How? What kind of tickets? When did this happen? How did this happen?"

So we filled him in on the whole thing... and we desperately wanted to leave right then if he could take us. My mom wasn't saying anything. Just scowling as usual. I didn't know why nor did I care. She was always mad about something as far as I was concerned.

My Dad asked us which radio station and so we told him. He asked where it is at and we had no idea, we had never heard of Mesa... so we just said it's in Mesa somewhere. I didn't write the directions down when the announcer told me how to get there. (Lol)

Dad's eyes about popped out of his face when he replied "Mesa? ...Christy, that's kinda far, I don't know if we can make it there before they close." I begged and begged, pleaded and pleaded, told him how we'd never won anything before and this is a big deal. We really want to go.

Of course my Dad couldn't refuse two little excited girls wanting to pick up tickets won over the radio. He told us to go outside and wait for him. We did. We were restless. Practically having our souls squirm in our own little bodies as if they're too big for the tiny bodies that held them.

Dad came out of the house quickly and told us to hurry up and get in the car. "Mom's not happy about this, but we'll go quickly and get your tickets." he told us. I thanked Dad and told him how exciting this all is to us. I looked at J in the back seat as I was in front with Dad, and she just looked at me. Her eyes quiet, concerned and excited at the same time with her sheepish grin ear to ear. A little uncomfortable as our family has been in an upheaval since my parents have been fighting a lot lately.

I've wondered if they'd divorce. Unsure of it all. J kept telling me surely they are going to get divorced. Her parents divorced. Everyone divorces eventually, she would always tell me. Not my parents though. They always worked through the arguments. Our family gets along for the most part. We laugh and have fun. We have always done fun things together. Nah, not a divorce, they'd work it out somehow. I also knew though deep down somehow this was different lately. I had met my new half sister only shortly before all this. I never knew I had a half sister. Before then, I had never even heard of such a thing. I had to have it explained to me. This was the main cause of all the turmoil in our home. I didn't fully understand what was going on, I mean I was only 14 years of age.

My Mom had just returned from a trip to Hawaii with my grandma. My Dad paid for them to have a vacation and WOW Hawaii. How cool is that? So why did she come home mad? I figured surely she'd have a great time in paradise, come home happy and glowing. I don't know why I was so surprised to see her mad though, she always was mad and yelling. It was kinda embarrassing too. I'd have friends over and she'd yell at them that it was time to go home. "GO HOME J!" She'd yell. J would practically run out. I didn't like it. My friends always saw my mom mad and yelling. I didn't want to invite my friends over anymore. It became too much for one of my age when it was hard enough being 14. Everyone around me at school starting to date other people, puberty at it's high. I was just trying not to cry at school and try to focus on the subject at hand. I couldn't. All I worried about was what was going to happen in the next while? Would I be living with my mom or my dad? I had no clue.

Well nothing had happened yet, so I pushed all worries aside, and wanted to enjoy the moment. This was a happy moment. J and I would be getting our tickets and we'd get to go see this movie and enjoy the fact that we were winners!

Dad pulled up to the radio station parking lot. "Oh my gosh, this is it?!"

"Yeah, why?" Dad was confused.

"It's soooooo smaaaaaall. I figured it would be bigger. A bigger building."

"Christy, it's a radio station, they only need a small area for the person speaking on the radio, they don't have a lot of people coming and going."

"Well yah I guess, but we're coming and going." I commented back, and staring at the building. We got out and went inside and we were given our tickets. I don't remember any other details of the building because we were young girls and we just wanted the tickets.

After stopping and picking up slushes, on the drive home, J is looking at other drivers and making fun of them. "LOOK! That lady is picking her nose!" We laughed.

That's all I remember. "CHRISTY! Christy! CHRISTY, wake up!" I hear my Dad talking to me and shaking me, waking me up. I open my eyes and I'm crouched on the floor of the passenger seat of the car. Totally confused, I sit up, and looking down I had no idea what was going on. Where were we? Trying to gain consciousness, I observe my surroundings.

"Dad. What happened to the windshield?" It was cracked and shattered but only between the layers, it hadn't completely shattered yet. Weird. I look at my Dad and he has this very concerned and worry look in his eyes. He's asking me all sorts of questions. Wouldn't stop asking me if I was ok.

"Yes! I'm fine. Why?"

"Christy you were passed out."

"For how long?" I didn't feel like I had been out. He said I was out for about 3 minutes or so not very long but long enough to put him into a frantic worry.

I looked up and this big manly officer with a deep voice was asking me if I wore a seatbelt. "Huh? Why?" He didn't stop asking me. "No." And he asked why not. I told him I didn't like wearing them. Ended up in a lecture conversation as to why I should wear them. And I told him ok, I'd wear a seatbelt.

My Dad never wore seatbelts either. I guess I got it from him. Maybe I thought it was cool or something, I don't know. But it's certainly not cool hitting a windshield knowing I could've been thrown from the car at a lengthy distance. The cop painted quite the picture for me. I'd wear a seatbelt from there on, convinced.

The drive home was pretty quiet. We were all shooken up. Even though it wasn't a bad accident we had quite the experience. We were on the freeway and there was a lot of bumper-to-bumper traffic. I asked my Dad on the drive home what had happened. He told us that when J was mentioning other drivers, he accidentally turned and looked on impulse as a reaction, and the car in front of us had stopped but he didn't know it. And we hit. It was a light hit but hard enough that I hit the windshield. I was shocked that it was me that hit the windshield. I guess I didn't know how it had happened really... and was very oddly surprised by it. I was thinking aloud and said, "Wow, I did that?" My Dad nodded his head and said yes.

Uh oh, I broke the windshield. Mom would be mad for sure. "Dad I'm sorry. What about Mom? She's going to be mad."

"Don't worry about Mom. I'll take care of it." he reassured me.

We pulled up into the driveway of our home, Dad hadn't even turned off the car yet, and Mom was outside yelling already. I couldn't even hear what she was saying, but she was looking right at the side of where I was sitting and saw the broken glass.

J said she would just go home and talk to me later. I just nodded and quietly said ok. I sat in the car for a few minutes. I didn't want to get out. It would only be hell inside the home anyway.

I finally thought, well better to face the music than not. I slip out of the car and Mom is glaring at me. Instantly I felt guilty and didn't know why. She looked at the window and yelled at me, "What did you do?!"

I couldn't even look at her, I slowly looked up at her and she was towering over me with mean eyes and hatred filling her soul. I was scared. I thought she was going to slap me or something. So I told her, "we got into a car accident Mom. It was an accident. That's why they are called accidents." She continued to glare at me as though she hated me. So I just looked down and walked inside our home.

She yelled at me and told me to go to my room. That this never would've happened if I hadn't won those stupid tickets!

I went to my room. My brother and sister were in there since my sister and I shared a room. They were doing something together and looked at me as I walked over to my bed and just laid down. I was sad and didn't have any energy all of a sudden.

My sister and brother looked at me and asked what happened. Then they said, "Christy what did you do?!" I told them I didn't do anything. They didn't believe me. One of them replied, and I don't remember who said it as this was so many years ago, "It's because of you that Mom and Dad are always fighting. What did you do?!"

The tears just fell uncontrollably. I didn't know. Why are they always fighting? Is it because of me? The bedroom door flew open! Both my sister and my brother stiffened. Mom came over to me and started yelling at me. She was yelling so much I didn't even catch all the words coming out of her mouth. I got up from the bed and went over to the corner of the room when I realized it was because things were being thrown at me. She was throwing shoes at me and yelling at the top of her lungs, "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

I heard my Dad's voice, "You didn't have to do that!" And he tore out of the house. My mom followed him. I sat in the corner, crying and couldn't move. I just sat there for awhile with my head in my shoulders and staring at the floor, everything a blurr. I don't even remember when I finally moved.

I had a basketball game that night I had to attend for Hoopsters pep club that I belonged to and was a member. I had no choice, I had responsibilities. Halfway through the game, I was worried about Dad and called home. Mom said he hadn't come home yet and probably wouldn't be.

Shortly after that, Mom came and told us that Dad moved out. He's living in an apt now and we could come visit him on occasions. All I kept thinking was wow, J was right. My parents would be getting divorced too.

Poem written by my cuz Zach

2008-03-20T07:36:00.000-07:00

Hi, I'm posting this beautiful poem written by my cousin Zach.

Zach, I hope you don't mind I'm posting your sweet poem on my blog post for today. It sums up everything I have felt all my life and continue to encourage in others. Thank you for sharing it on your blog. You have a sweet soul.

I hope others will enjoy this as much as I do...

Friday, February 29, 2008

A Hole in the World...
what is it about family that can bring you so close?
while on the same hand,it can push you so far apart?
what is it about the human race that makes people so judgmental?
thinking you have the right to say if someone is right or wrong?
sane or insane?
what is it about humans that makes us think we are better and above the other?
aren't we all the same?
aren't we all just people?
who cares about skin color,religion,beliefs,sexual orientation,or financial status?
why can't we as a people look past that?
why can't we see past their religion?
past their clothing?
past the person they come home to at night?
why don't we look at what they do?
why don't we look at who they are?
what they contribute to society?
what kind of mind they have?
what dreams and goals they have?
do we all have to be so shallow and smug?

i'm begging to think that morrie schwartz hit on the nail.
"love is the only rational act. love is the only rational act."

-Zach Litke

Emotions

2008-03-19T11:42:00.000-07:00

Family chaos inspired this poem. I love my family soooo much that I've made things more difficult than I should have... without intention. My purpose is always to be honest. It's well known that I speak truth and I'm honest. However when you're the person who is in the middle and a liaison between two parties, esp family, it truly sucks!

I couldn't sleep last night (nor have I been sleeping much for as long as I can remember now) and I must be careful whom I speak or share certain feelings. I wish I could be myself, that has always been my goal, and yet when others (loved ones) put barriers up with limitations and restrictions that are impossible to remove, what is a person to do? So my result is this poem:

Genie in the Bottle

Ever wonder why the genie is blue
Perhaps symbolically true
Locked inside this bottle of mine
I won't come out until 2009

Waiting until the smoke clears
Constant ringing in the ears
Smothered in war
Not wanting any more

Screaming and yelling at me
As if I were only three
There is no rhyme or reason
Only treason

Many times over wishing I were not
If only I could be forgot
This is not living
A time of not giving

Years of this stuff
My skin not that rough
A soul cannot take
Death in the make

Fighting to live
Feel and give
An implore to explore
Learning all the more

Restraints and limitations
Gone are the chains
Free to roam
In search of a home

Alone in the search
Then comes a lurch
Verbal brutality is too abuse
Always first to make a truce

Whose loyal to whom
Awaiting the doom
Who's telling the truth
Lacking in couth

Interest in Genie brought
For answers sought
Anger stirred
Heart curd

Literal screaming hurts
Body bruised with words
Enough is enough
Clearly conditional love

Lost and confused
Not amused
Slow and painful death
Near last breath

Ready to burst
Bolt into first
Off to find
An actual clear mind

If I could be
Loved and free
What is it like
On Kilamanjaro hike?

Gone I'll be
'Tis only me
Finding that gleam
Seen In my dream

Goodbye and farewell
Listen for the bell
Hear it ring
My heart will sing

Off I am
Away from fam
Rising up new heights
Flying many kites

A message if you will
Might arrive in the sill
Keep an eye alert
It may be just dirt

Sleep I can't
Along with a pant
Not a night
Without light

Pained
Drained
Forcing
Morsing

Have you deciphered my code?
Hiding in my abode
Mask removed
Only once behoved

(Written By, C.M. Call)
(Copywright March 2008)

Love Stirring

2008-02-04T23:52:00.000-08:00

Hi Ya'll ~

I don't usually like to share my poems written from my heart so widely and publicly but I am curious to see what sort of responses I get from this one. I rarely write poetry, so when I do it really comes from my inner deep feelings and thoughts. My poetry I keep pretty private. However, this year my goal is FACING FEARS! So along with this theme, if you will, includes my writing. So here goes.

~ LOVE STIRRING ~ by Christina Call
This was written in the early morning hours of 2/4/08 while sleeping in bed. I get most of my writing ideas and poems while in bed asleep and awake to write it down immediately while it flows right through me, or in the shower in mornings. Haha. So this poem was written in a total of about 5-10 min and after the last word was written, I fell back into deep sleep with pen and paper still in hand, LOL :)

(Please keep in mind while reading this poem that the feelings involved -some are past and some are current. They're not ALL current)

Look at you I won't, a long while, in the eyes
Or you'll see exactly what I'm feeling inside
You don't know how much I feel for you
But then again, maybe you do.

My heart is aching, lost and confused

What has happened to the man I once knew?

Different and also the same

A man that carries his name.

So much we have both been through, me and you

Often I feel torn in two

Loving you more than I have any one man

If only you could more fully understand.

Where are you my love and will you ever return?

This, all new to me and so much to learn

How may I find you?

What am I to do?

This disease, I hate it

Cancer, can't stand it

Yet you see it quite differently

Though please look what it has done for you and me.

Who are we now?

I don't know

I look at you

And your eyes aglow.

We are far now from whom we once were

Sometimes I wonder, are we now any better?

So many emotions flown through us in short time

Yet here we are, still, on an upward climb.

Will patience pay off or rob me blind?

I'll never know 'til we learn what we find

Innocent and oft times deep,

Our minds perform a spring clean sweep.

My heart is full and empty still

Waiting to meet halfway at the hill

Call you my boyfriend or friend only now?

Asking with an expression, a sighing frown.

All this a big mystery

We're finally feeling a bit more free

Please help me to understand; help me to grow

Into the woman you want to know.

With all my heart, mind and soul

Whatever it takes to show

I'm sincere, serious and this is my goal

Here now with you, would I be, if truly I don't love you so?

Everything always happens for a reason

We both say, and in timing there always is a season

To be here, near or far

That is indeed wherever you are...

It is me whispering in your ear

I truly love you darling dear

Please know you mean the world to me

As long as we're together changing and making history.

You help me to see things in a different light

In that I feel strength within my might

Feel it, I know you do

Without you in my life, I'd be so blue.

How do I prove

My love is true?

Cause within my heart

Feelings brew.

WRITING EXERCISE #7

2008-01-30T01:45:00.000-08:00

My 1FS: "Hello...HELLO! HEYYYY DID YOU FALL ASLEEP ON ME?" I heard this voice yelling at me in my right ear; I rubbed my eyes and slowly turned to look in the direction of the voice and it's the phone receiver next to me.

PART I. BEGINNINGS
Chapter 7) WHAT WORD COMES NEXT?
Some narratives are driven by plot, by the idea of what happens next. We visualize a character, a scene, and ask ourselves what happens next. Other narratives are driven by language, bythe writer's search for the next word, the next phrase, often without conscious attention to narrative logic. This sort of writing is analogous to a sculptor following the grain of wood with her chisel, seeking what it wants to say, and trusting that something recognizable and perhaps interesting will emerge. Instead of asking ourselves what happens next, a writer using this method will ask what word comes next. Instead of choosing words to describe something already present in the mind, the writer will let the grain of the language move the narrative along.

EXERCISE: Write the first sentence of a narrative. Any sentence will do. Then take two or three words from that first sentence and use them again in the second sentence. Take two or three words from those first two sentences and use them in the third sentence. Go on until the story begins to acquire a logic of its own.
OBJECTIVE: To learn to be surprised by what a story has to say, instead of deciding in advance what it must say. To get in touch with that part of ourselves that isn't always immediately available to the conscious mind. Focusing on technique, on a trick, will often allow us to write things we wouldn't otherwise write, things that frighten or disturb us.

MY EXERCISE: (I'm getting super sleepy, will have to come back to this exercise)
First Sentence

Second Sentence

Third Sentence

Fourth Sentence

WRITING EXERCISE #6

2008-01-28T02:03:00.000-08:00

My 1FS: As I was leaving the restaurant and walking to my car, this young gal walked right up to me and asked me if I had a hug today.

PART I. BEGINNINGS
Chapter 6) PAIRS OF BEGINNING SENTENCES
Sometimes less is more, and sometimes it is just less. But no matter what, writing with a strict economy of purpose can force useful answers to fundamental questions. Even from one sentence you can learn both who the character is and what the story is about. To provide focus, it is helpful to begin by writing sentences in arbitrary pairs with established parameters.

EXERCISE: Write the first sentence of a story about a birth. Now write the first sentence about a death. Try other pairs, such as falling in love and filing for divorce. Try pairs that are not in opposition, such as spring and summer. Then invent your own pairs.

OBJECTIVE: To write succinct beginning sentence: one that signals the essential "who" and "what" to come.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez: "One of the most difficult things is the first paragraph. I have spent many months on a first paragraph and once I get it, the rest just comes out very easily. In the first paragraph you solve most of the problems with your book. The theme is defined, the style, the tone. At least in my case, the first paragraph is a kind of sample of what the rest of the book is going to be. That's why writing a book of short stories is much more difficult than writing a novel. Every time you write a short story, you have to begin all over again."

My EXERCISE:
A Birth and a Death
1. "They said it's like a re-birth," he told me as I drove to the hospital for my regular visit to be with him.
2. With a firm but delicate voice, she told me, "I have some news that I need to tell you." I was pretty startled as I had no idea what she was referring to by that statement and she sounded weird to me. I thought I was in trouble or something and wasn't sure what her announcement would bring for me. She waited to share the dreaded information until we exited the car and entered the home where my father was waiting.

Falling in Love and Filing for Divorce
1. Does anyone really ever know? Or is it just a big leap of faith and diving into the ocean hoping you don't get swallowed by a giant great white?
2. Finding that woman is like sending the squad out to search through haystacks looking for that damn needle and getting pricked at the same time!

Spring and Summer
1. In April my lease is up with all sorts of change blooming around me.
2. By summer I will be living elsewhere and preparing for my dreams to be within my grasp all the more.

WRITING EXERCISE #5

2008-01-27T14:02:00.000-08:00

Oh my... I've missed a few days...and I feel awful about it but at the same time I've been busy doing other great things... so I don't feel too bad. LIFE just gets in the way sometimes and there aren't enough hours in a day to do it all. Lol.

OK so here's my 1FS for today: As I watch the rain fall from my window, a flood of memories rush through my mind and I remember.

PART I. BEGINNINGS
Chapter 5) PERSON, PLACE, AND SONG
At the outset of any writing class I always give an assignment. I don't want to see the stories that these writers have in their files--yet. I also don't want to start a class with them talking; they are without exception excellent talkers. They are experts. I want to use that expertise later. Right off, I want them to write. No fears, tears, theory, or clashing agendas. Just a little writing. I want themt to take the risk of writing something new--all of them on an equal footing.

The assignments I've been making have changed several times, but they're all essentially prompts, specific ways of starting. The most recent I simply call Person, Place, and Song. It comes from the second paragraph of Leonard Michael's story "Viva La Tropicana," which appeared in The Best American Short Stories 1991. The paragraph starts:

The first time I heard mambo, I was in a Chevy Bel Aire, driving from Manhattan to Brooklyn with Zev's son, my cousin Chester. We'd just graduated from high school and were going to a party. To save me the subway ride, Chester came to pick me up. He wore alligator shoes, like Zeb's dancing shoes, and a chain bracelet of heavy silver, with a name tag, on his left wrist. It was a high school fashion, like penny loafers and bobby socks. Chester had spent time in Cuba, but mainly he lived with his mother in Brooklyn and hardly ever saw his father. Uncle Zev, I believe, didn't love Chester too much, or not enough. This accounts for an eccentric showy element in his personality, which distinguished him in high school as a charming ass, irresponsible to girls, obnoxious to boys. As we drove, he flicked on the radio. The DJ, Symphony Sid, began talking to us, his voice full of knowing, in the manner of New York. He said we could catch Tito Puente this Wednesday at the Palladium, home of Latin music, 53rd and Broadway. Then Symphony Sid played a tune by Puente called "Ran Kan Kan."

This paragraph is rich with the specific data that offers clues and sets the tone for the rest of the piece. I could talk about it--all the work it does--for half an hour.

THE EXERCISE: Write a short piece of fiction--about a thousand words. It may be a complete short story and it may be the beginning of a longer piece. But it starts as follows: The first time I (or Name) heard SPECIFIC SONG TITLE by SPECIFIC ARTIST OR GROUP, I (or Name) was down/up/over at PLACE and we were doing ACTION.

THE OBJECTIVE: To begin a story simply and specifically. Nothing grand, just close evidence that may lead somewhere. As I have said somewhere else, at greater length: solve your problems through physical detail.

MY EXERCISE: One of the first times I heard "God Be With You Til We Meet Again," was sung in church at my farewell service while I was at the front of the chapel and after I delivered my speech as a soon-to-be Missionary. The congregation sung and I listened attentively to the lyrics of the hymn and I felt instant warmth and love.

And, the first time I heard "God Be With You Til We Meet Again," being sung from a group of sister missionaries at the Mission Training Center (MTC) in Salt Lake City, I was in my dorm room and realized there was a large number of women in the hallway singing and crying. At night, whenever a missionary or group of missionaries were leaving the next morning, there would be a group formed and the singing would begin.

One night, I was curious and brought my hymnal with me and joined the singing group. It was fun to see the involvement singing brought to all the women in the dorm. Tears would stream down a few cheeks and the singing never stopped. There was a bond formed and many friendships developed over the time spent at the MTC and knowing that a few new friends would be leaving the next day and may or may not seen again... was kinda sad. And yet it was exciting because we knew the adventures would begin immediately. Life changes would occur. Testimonies would build and become even stronger. Experiences would double faith and bring one closer to God.

Sister Nelson, Sister Kenworthy and I were getting ready for bed in our dorm room and we were quite nervous and excited about what the morning would bring as it was our last night there at the MTC. When all of a sudden, those singing voices would begin outside our door. It was our turn the song would be sung for us. And my body produced so much energy listening to the song and the women singing, I joined in tune too and yet I was too choked up to sing all the words. I felt the spirit so strong, I knew I was where I was supposed to be and exactly at that moment. I felt connected with each and every one of these sisters and I didn't know them all. The women I shared a dorm room with became my best friends and indeed felt like sisters to me. We were in this together. The next morning our Mission would begin.

All sorts of emotions and thoughts were battling throughout my mind and body. I was a bit fearful of the unknown and travelling out of state was a first for me to do alone. I had no idea what I was really getting into and what the future would bring. I calmed my thoughts and my soul by once again thinking of the song that was sung with all the sisters and the unity that existed. I didn't feel so alone when I re-envisioned the experience in that hallway dorm... each night I was there for three weeks. That song had become a memory for me. One in which I'll never forget. And knowing that I had been blessed with that song of praise for God and prayer that God will be with me, I didn't feel so alone.

Anytime on my mission, and I heard that song or sung it, my heart would warm and melt. I felt love and peace.

When I returned from my mission a year and a half later, and the first time in worship service in which it was my Homecoming service for family and friends to attend as well. After I delivered my return missionary speech, the congregation sang another most endearing and beautiful song I have come to feel so familiar with and have great love for as much as the first song..."Well Done Thou Good And Faithful Servant." I felt so humble and so in touch with the spirit that day. The realization that my Mission at least for the church at that time was fulfilled and complete. However, I do feel that my mission in life is only beginning.

As I think of that amazing song, "God Be With You Until We Meet Again," I can't help but realize that this song not only represented my going out into the world as a full-time missionary and facing all sorts of events... but it also made me realize that this song is also a reminder of our days here on Earth and our mission here before we return to God and once again be with our loved ones.

An additional thought I had once when I returned home from my mission: for those of you who may believe in a pre-existence, it made me also wonder at one time, was this song also sung to all before leaving Heaven and in preparation for our journey here? Hmmm...I wonder.

WRITING EXERCISE #4

2008-01-23T00:45:00.000-08:00

My Daily 1FS: The smell of fresh blueberry bagel in the toaster warming prepared my taste buds for a late night snack.

PART I. BEGINNINGS

Chapter 4) BEGIN A STORY WITH A "GIVEN" FIRST LINE

It can be challenging to begin a story with a "given" first line--especially one that starts in the middle. You can use a line from a poem, make one up, or use the one in this exercise. Or ask a friend or fellow writer to give you a first line--this is what Doris Lessing's characters do in her novel The Golden Notebook. When we come to the place in the novel where Saul gives Anna the first line "The two women were alone in the London flat," we realize that Anna did write her book, and that The Golden Notebook, which begins with that exact line, is Anna's novel.

THE EXERCISE: Begin a story with this line: Where were you last night?

THE OBJECTIVE: The objective is to once more start the story in medias res--in the middle of things. Notice how this question begins in the middle of a situation. for example, "last night," the subject of the question, has already happened. If one character asks another this question there are already two people "on stage." And the question will probably produce a conflict. But don't get hung up on making it a line of dialogue--it can be used many different ways.

Here are two other "given" first lines:

1) I met him on the stairs.

(Note how many different ways the characters could be moving: both up; both down; or passing each other.)

2) If I went there a second time...

(This is the first line of Enid Shomer's poem "First Sunset at Outler's Ranch" from her book, Stalking the Florida Panther.)

My Exercise:

"Where were you last night?" my mom asked me when I returned home from school. Ok stay calm, she doesn't know, I thought to myself, or she does know and wants to see if she can catch me in a lie. Hmm, think quick, my thoughts scattered and racing yet still controlled as I glanced over at the calendar and saw the note for the Science Fair this Saturday. So I answered while slowly walking downstairs to my room, "Mom, I was at Marci's helping her with her science project for the fair this weekend; she asked me to help her since I had already participated in it last year."

Without wasting a moment, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed. "Marci, hey I need you to do me a quick favor k? You know those rollerblades you've been wanting? Call my mom in about fifteen minutes or so and tell her that you just want her to pass the message along to me, thanking me for helping you last night k?"

"What for?" Marci asked confused. "Because ok! Please just do this and don't ask any questions and I'll take you to go get those rollerblades at Skate Alley, got it?!"

My Next Exercise:

I met him on the stairs as he came out of the apartment above me. I couldn't move, 'Mr. Hottie", was coming my way. And would you know it, just as clutsy as ever, I managed to mumble and spit out, "Hi", the same time I tripped over the last stair, dropping my groceries all over the place. Only me, silly silly me, I can't even say HI to an attractive guy without landing face first into the cement! "Where's the damn rock!" frustrated I managed to say out loud.

"What rock?" I hear a voice coming from behind me and as I look over my shoulder it's HIM, Mr. Hottie, extending a hand to help me. "Oh just the one I want to go crawl and hide under," I'm now embarrassed, humiliated and excited all at once!

And My Last Exercise for this activity - for tonight:

"If I went there a second time then I could get a better look." he told his friend. "I don't know if it was drugs or just my imagination. But I know where it is and I'll sneak a peak to know for sure."

"Are you crazy? You're going to get caught! NO WAY! Let's just call the cops and let them do their job!" frustrated with him, Jason tried to convince him otherwise.

"They won't believe me, they'll just think I'm some stupid kid with nothing better to do than waste their time by making pranks or something. Come with me and you can watch my back while I look inside the containers. We can go now and make a quick move before they transport them!"

WRITING EXERCISE #3

2008-01-21T00:17:00.000-08:00

My Daily 1FS: Wiping her eyes, taking one last huge deep breath, she stepped out of the bathroom stall, looked in the mirror and said confidently but quietly, "I can do this! I can do this!" and walked back to her desk.

PART I. BEGINNINGS
Chapter 3) WAYS TO BEGIN A STORY
There are many different means a writer might use to begin a story, and the problem is to choose one that most appropriately raises the curtain on the narrative to follow. Ask yourself such questions as these:
* Do I want my story to open with the sound of voices as people discuss something about their lives?
* Or do I want to bring one important character forward into the descriptive spotlight and let the reader have a good, long look at her before action begins?
* Or do I want to begin with an activity--one person, or more than one, engaged in doing something that will be significant for the story to follow?
To judge these three possible openings, the writer might then ask questions of the unwritten story:
* Story, are you going to be about some involvement of people and their attitudes and opinions; are the ways they voice their thoughts going to be important?
* Or, Story, are you going to concern yourself with the traits, ideas, experiences, and emotions of one person who must seize the reader's imagination at once?
* Or are you going to be involved with an event--or events--in which the characters take part, and thus you want an opening that shows actions?

EXERCISE: This one is in two parts. First experiment with different types of openings for different stories until you feel comfortable with the technique of each. Then see how many ways there are to open one particular story you have in mind. How does the story change when the opening changes from a generalization to a line of dialogue?

OBJECTIVE: To see how experimenting with several ways of opening your story can lead you to a better understanding of whose story it is, and what the focus of the story will be.

My Writing Exercise #3: (I may have to come back to this)

WRITING EXERCISE #2

2008-01-19T02:20:00.000-08:00

In following my previous Writing Exercise #1, I liked it so much, that I've decided to do as the exercise suggests and that is to begin each day with One First Sentence. So if you are confused by this exercise, please review my WE #1 on my personal blog for reference. See below the actual exercise from WE #1:

Yesterday's EXERCISE: Write ten of your own opening lines for ten different stories. When you read, look for opening lines that immediately pull the reader into the story. And if you keep a journal or notebook, consider starting a new section and adding one first sentence each day--for the rest of your life.OBJECTIVE: To get into the habit of beginning your stories in the middle of things. Because you are not obligated to finish these stories, this exercise lowers the emotional stakes and helps to shake up and surprise the imagination.

PART I. BEGINNINGS

Chapter 2) THE STORY'S HISTORY

(It might be helpful to think of the story as a straight line with the first sentence appearing somewhere beyond the start of the line--ideally near to the beginning of the straight line and catch the reader up on the situation--how and why X has gotten himself into such a pickle with character Y.)

EXERCISE: First, return to a favorite story and make a list of events that occurred before page one. Ask: How do these events affect the story after page one and move the story to resolution? Do this exercise with several stories and novels. Then look at a draft of one of your own stories. Take notes on your story's history. Does your story have a past? A history all its own? Is the current situation grounded in the history of the story? You might discover that your stories have a case of amnesia--a lack of history that makes the current situation thin or lacking in alternatives and tension.

OBJECTIVE: To understand how stories and novels--and the characters in those stories and novels--all have a history that affects their forward movement and resolution.

FLANNERY O'CONNOR: "This discovery of being bound to a particular society and a particular history, to particular sounds and a particular idiom, is for the writer the beginning of a recognition of himself as finite subject, limited, the beginning of a recognition that first puts his work in a real human perspective for him. It is a perspective which shows him his creaturehood."

My (daily) ONE FIRST SENTENCE (1FS) exercise:

Feeling the hot water embrace my face in the shower I erase all the sad thoughts draining my soul and let them go.

My WRITING EXERCISE #2: Ok so I haven't had a chance to look at any magazines or stories, but I did go see a movie with some girl friends on Saturday, we went and saw MAD MONEY movie. We loved it. Anyway, I noticed right away when the movie started right after the previews...that it started in the middle of the story! BINGO!! Here's my writing exercise! It was awesome because this writing exercise was fresh on my mind and here I am watching the beginning of a story starting in the middle! Way cool! It stood out for me and I'm going to continue to look for stories or articles that start this way.

Hello & Welcome to my new WRITING CORNER BLOG

2008-01-18T23:26:00.000-08:00

Hi Ya'll !

I'm super excited I've now created my new separate blog for my writing! Yay! I have my first Writing Exercise #1 posted on my personal blog at http://christycall.blogspot.com/ please feel free to visit my personal blog if you're interested.

I will begin Writing Exercise #2 on this site following this blog.

Getting started... Yay! :)