Writing is Imagination in Flight
About Me
- Ruth J. Hartman
- Ruth J. Hartman spends her days herding cats, and her nights spinning mysterious romantic tales that make you smile and laugh out loud - or so she's been told my readers! She, her husband Garry, and their two cats, love to spend time curled up in their recliners watching old Cary Grant movies. Well, the cats, Roxy and Remmie, sit in the people's recliners. Not that the cats couldn't get their own furniture. They just choose to shed on someone else's. You know how selfish those little furry creatures can be.
.jpg)
Monday, July 25, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Are You an Introverted Writer?
Two days ago, I ran errands. Some, the usual boring stuff. Others, ones that come up every so often, but need to be dealt with nonetheless.
Maybe it's because people's kids are out of school, or people are on vacation, or both, but I think every person in the universe followed me to the grocery, post office, bank, and even the drive-thru at McDonalds. (Needed my vanilla shake fix, you know?) It was hot, humid, and buggy. In my Jeep for the shake wasn't as bad, it just tried my patience. But standing in line at the grocery? I wanted to scream. If you're like me, you hate people in your personal space. Hate it. And this day was no different. I scooted up as far as I could to the person in front of me without, of course, getting in their personal space. Yet, the woman behind me was breathing down my neck. Quite literally. Makes my skin crawl just to think about it.
The post office was even worse. It's a tiny building, with a tiny area to mail packages, and an even tinier space to stand in line to wait for the next available postal employee. What was taking so long? The man behind me was coughing, sending my OCD into overdrive. The person in front of me wouldn't move forward, even though she could, so that left me squished with the people behind me, who didn't seem to give a rat's patoot about anyone's personal space.
I had to control my breathing, tell myself to stay calm, and pray it would all end soon. I gritted my teeth together, desperately wishing I had my nightguard handy. Wouldn't be pretty for a dental hygienist to crack all of her front teeth, now would it?
By the time I got out of there and into my Jeep, I had to sit there for a few minutes, just to calm down. It was such a relief to get home and in front of my computer. Back to my writing. Back to characters who don't breath down my neck, cough on the back of my head, or crowd me in with other sweaty, disgruntled people.
I like being around people, just not all the time. I can happily go all day without seeing anyone but my husband. That suits me just fine. Maybe that's one of the reason's writing appeals to me. I can be creative, in my own space, without others pushing, shoving, coughing or breathing!
What are some of the reasons you love to write?
Maybe it's because people's kids are out of school, or people are on vacation, or both, but I think every person in the universe followed me to the grocery, post office, bank, and even the drive-thru at McDonalds. (Needed my vanilla shake fix, you know?) It was hot, humid, and buggy. In my Jeep for the shake wasn't as bad, it just tried my patience. But standing in line at the grocery? I wanted to scream. If you're like me, you hate people in your personal space. Hate it. And this day was no different. I scooted up as far as I could to the person in front of me without, of course, getting in their personal space. Yet, the woman behind me was breathing down my neck. Quite literally. Makes my skin crawl just to think about it.
The post office was even worse. It's a tiny building, with a tiny area to mail packages, and an even tinier space to stand in line to wait for the next available postal employee. What was taking so long? The man behind me was coughing, sending my OCD into overdrive. The person in front of me wouldn't move forward, even though she could, so that left me squished with the people behind me, who didn't seem to give a rat's patoot about anyone's personal space.
I had to control my breathing, tell myself to stay calm, and pray it would all end soon. I gritted my teeth together, desperately wishing I had my nightguard handy. Wouldn't be pretty for a dental hygienist to crack all of her front teeth, now would it?
By the time I got out of there and into my Jeep, I had to sit there for a few minutes, just to calm down. It was such a relief to get home and in front of my computer. Back to my writing. Back to characters who don't breath down my neck, cough on the back of my head, or crowd me in with other sweaty, disgruntled people.
I like being around people, just not all the time. I can happily go all day without seeing anyone but my husband. That suits me just fine. Maybe that's one of the reason's writing appeals to me. I can be creative, in my own space, without others pushing, shoving, coughing or breathing!
What are some of the reasons you love to write?
Friday, July 1, 2011
Cat and Mouse
Ever try writing a story in one hundred words or fewer? It's fun, but challenging. Here's one I wrote for a contest, that earned Honorable Mention:
Cat and Mouse
“I pounce, therefore, I am.”
“You are what?” said the miniscule brown mouse.
“I am a cat,” said the fluffy yellow feline.
“So?”
“Show some respect.”
“Why should I?”
“I am a dangerous wild animal.”
“Oh, please!”
“Watch me.”
“You’re just sitting on the bookcase,” scoffed the mouse.
“Keep watching.”
“Still nothing. I‘m getting bored.”
“Ready?” asked the cat.
“For what?”
“For what’s going to happen next.”
“You’re bluffing. You’ll do nothing.”
The cat jumped high in the air, performed a somersault, and landed squarely on top of the mouse.
“I tried to tell you: I pounce, therefore, I am!”
Cat and Mouse
“I pounce, therefore, I am.”
“You are what?” said the miniscule brown mouse.
“I am a cat,” said the fluffy yellow feline.
“So?”
“Show some respect.”
“Why should I?”
“I am a dangerous wild animal.”
“Oh, please!”
“Watch me.”
“You’re just sitting on the bookcase,” scoffed the mouse.
“Keep watching.”
“Still nothing. I‘m getting bored.”
“Ready?” asked the cat.
“For what?”
“For what’s going to happen next.”
“You’re bluffing. You’ll do nothing.”
The cat jumped high in the air, performed a somersault, and landed squarely on top of the mouse.
“I tried to tell you: I pounce, therefore, I am!”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)