Showing posts with label Creativity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creativity. Show all posts

Feb 2, 2016

Organize Kitchen Utensils

“I’ll make you a sandwich, and you make me some wood slat things. I wrote down the lengths I
want.”
She pulled out a list, handed it to him. He frowned down at it.
“What are they for?”
“For me.” She smiled.
“Fine. You don’t have a width.”
“Oh. Hmm. Like this?” She held her thumb and forefinger together.
“About a quarter inch. What kind of wood?”
“The wood kind—whatever you’ve got around.”
“Finish?”
“Jeez, it’s a lot of decisions. Just that stuff, the clear stuff. I don’t need fancy.”

The Search


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How to Organize Kitchen Utensils in 30 min or Less!




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Pleased with her first project, she emptied one of the kitchen drawers, scrubbed it, measured and cut the liner she’d asked Sylvia to pick up for her. Using the pattern she’d outlined in her head, she slid in the wood dividers—and deemed them perfect.
...
Fiona laid spatulas, slotted spoons, serving forks in their allotted space.
...
He pulled open a drawer at random. “Jesus, Fiona, you lined them.”
“I’m so ashamed.”
“Let me point out, neither of us actually cooks, so what’s the point of having lined, divided, organized kitchen drawers?”
“To be able to find things, whether or not you use them. And what’s the point of having all these things in the first place if you don’t cook?”
“I wouldn’t have all this junk if my mother didn’t . . . never mind that either.”
“I can jumble everything up again if it makes you feel better.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
And she grinned at him, quick and fun.

The Search

Oct 14, 2013

Advice to aspiring Writers

"True enough. What're you looking for there?"
"Success," she said immediately. "Security."
"One doesn't always equal the other."
Her voice was as defiant as the look she aimed at him. "You have both."
"A writer's never secure," Hunter disagreed. "Only a foolish one expects to be. I've read all of the manuscript you brought."
Lee said nothing. She'd known he'd bring it up before the two weeks were over, but she'd hoped to put it off a bit longer. The faintest of breezes played with the ends of her hair while she sat, staring at the moving waters of the creek. Some of the pebbles looked like gems. Such were illusions.
"You know you have to finish it," he told her calmly. "You can't make me believe you're content to leave your characters in limbo, when you've drawn them so carefully. Your story's two-thirds told, Lenore."
"I don't have time," she began.
"Not good enough."
Frustrated, she turned to him again. "Easy for you to say from your little pinnacle of fame. I have a demanding full-time job. If I give it my time and my talent, there's no place I can go but up at Celebrity." 

"Your novel needs your time and talent." 


Second Nature

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“You have to finish things — that’s what you learn from, you learn by finishing things.”





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 It was as Hunter had once said. The characters absorbed her, drove her, frustrated and
delighted her. As time passed, Lee discovered she wanted to finish the story, not only for
her sake but for theirs. She wanted, as she'd never wanted before, for these words to be
read. The excitement of that, and the dread, kept her going.

She felt a queer little thrill when the last word was typed, a euphoria mixed with an odd
depression. She'd finished. She'd poured her heart into her story. Lee wanted to celebrate.
She wanted to weep. It was over. As she pressed her fingers against her tired eyes, she
realized abruptly that she didn't even know what day it was.

Second Nature