The Writing Process Blog Tour

“It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed,

to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten;

the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows:

he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.”

Vita Sackville-West

Tour de Blog – Writing across Continents

I am thrilled to have been asked by my good friend, poet and book designer, Bee Williamson, if I would take up the writing baton in what is going around creative circles as The Monday Writing Process Blog Tour.

The aim is to connect writers and readers around the world in a continual blog-hop, where writers are invited to reply to four questions about their writing process and then pass the baton to other writers.

Bee Williamson posted her answers last week  Bee's Article

who was tagged by writer and reviewer, Carol Middleton Carol's Article

So here I go, hop-scotching across Cyberspace carrying a baton (ditching the white cane temporarily) in this tour-de-force for writers everywhere. Keep reading to find out who is itching to go, preparing to receive the baton for the tour to continue next week. Writers, rev those creative engines...ready, set, GO!!

What am I working on?

When I’m not fiddling among Google Search Engines, I am either expanding thoughts for future short stories, polishing articles that need a final buff, updating my website and blog or planning my next strategic move. I like to divide my time between writing, networking and doing market research, depending on energy levels and my mood.

Currently, I am nearing the completion phase of an e-book – a collection of personal essays, a selection of posts that were either published here or on other sites, rewritten with brand new content. The intention is to provide readers with a download that can inspire them through personal anecdotes that show it is possible to take hold of this ‘blind thing’ and turn it into a positive experience.

My helper elves and I are working furiously to make my second e-book available in time to launch alongside International White Cane Day in October this year.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I think my writing has differed from others as I have grown into the message of my work. Since taking up the craft of being a writer, the words and thoughts have not only shaped my writing on the page but have given me much to reflect on. The more I listen to the voice within, the more urgent it feels to write.

Think of a little pebble dropped into a still pond and how beautiful it is to watch tiny ripples move slowly out from the centre. This is how my writing seems to be moving too. The theme that has ‘dropped’ into my life, has resonated with many others and now I am being asked to teach, to mentor and to ‘speak my life’, not just write about it.

Why do I write what I do?

One – because I love playing with words and the magic they give to uplift, to move and inspire: writing for me is creating with colour and tone, capturing images for the mind to see.

Two – because it is truly a part of me, I see stories in everything.

Three – because I have stories worth sharing. It has been the frustrating times – when things have gone wrong – that have served as my life teacher, posing the greatest test to my ability to persist, to find other ways around annoying obstacles, to push me forward until I can see the light shining bright at the end of an oppressive tunnel.

By sharing the insights I have found to be most helpful, I hope to bring a lamp to lighten the darkness so that others may see.

How does my writing process work?

Imagine a butterfly flitting around to whichever flower takes her fancy, but wearing little red booties that keep her grounded. That’s a bit like me!

I love the freedom to choose which stories I want to work on when the inspiration is there and yet I can sit for hours and days, lost in time, to complete a writing deadline (yes, wearing my little red booties and sipping coffee to keep me grounded).

Writing energy does seem to flow best in the early morning, yet I also burn the midnight oil when the creative mind has packed up and gone home but the editor’s brain is committed to working in the quiet hours, to inspect the day’s writing.

Some days I work between two stories, allowing thought and inspiration to colour the writing, until I hit a blank. So I peer inside the other document, and stay there for a while.

Being a writer is a multi-faceted profession and I actually do enjoy the other sides of networking and marketing which some see as a necessary evil and interruption to their writing. For me it is an added pleasure to move into wider circles of fellow-creatives to learn from their successes and failures.

One part of the writing process I truly value is being able to block out specific time for writing, like J.K Rowling, who guards the time allotted to her craft, “ as a Hungarian Horntail guards its firstborn egg.” 

Now may I introduce you to two talented writer friends chomping on the bit to pick up the writing baton. We race from my home city of Melbourne to the United States to meet Amy Bovaird: and then fly across to the country of Colombia, to see what Alvaro Alvarito is up to hold on tight, this part of the run gets exciting...!Please check their blogs after 2nd June when they post their answers and continue the tour...

Amy Bovaird - is an upbeat vision-impaired author and experienced world traveller. She is legally blind with Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP). She worked as a specialist in second language acquisition for nearly thirty years, with a career taking her around the world. Amy views life as a personal adventure, and has traded her overseas experiences for an every-day adventure into blindness. Her book, Mobility Matters Stepping Out in Faith, is coming out very soon!

http://amybovaird.com/

Alvaro Alvarito - was born in Colombia, South America and grew up in Europe. He is legally blind, a disabilities advocate, a Podcast Host for nearly 4 years doing Low Vision Bureau (LVB) Show, a Bilingual Podcast where he talks with visually impaired and blind people and organizations from all around the world, raising awareness about the ABILITIES of the

visually impaired and blind community. He has been Blogging for years and is a Social Media and Assistive Technology enthusiast.

http://www.lowvisionbureau.com/

© 2014 Maribel Steel 

Breathing in the Scent of Motherhood on Mother’s Day

Motherhood

“Love children especially. They live to soften and purify hearts

and, as it were, to guide us.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Little snuffles and unfamiliar gurgles filled our dimly lit bedroom. It had all happened so quickly, not even our homebirth doctor had made it in time. I slumped back into the pillows, grateful to hear our daughter’s first few unaided breaths.

“She’s beautiful, she’s so beautiful,” her father said, choking on tears of pride. Our hands touched as he presented me with the whimpering bundle: gently placing the baby onto my concave tummy as if handling precious porcelain.

We felt completely awestruck, as witnesses sharing the miracle of life. He moved slowly, covering us both, our sweet little daughter snuggled close to my heart, and whispered, “Well done.”

I was unable to speak, and unable to see her in the dark. My hands traced over her tiny body, feeling every little bump and wrinkle. She was perfect. I began to hum the soft sounds of ‘Amazing Grace’, as my newborn rested and I breathed in, deeply, the contented scent of motherhood.

 As a visually-impaired and inexperienced mother I was petrified that I would accidentally hurt my newborn baby, especially when changing her cloth nappies with sharp pins. I had to feel my way carefully into motherhood.

Despite fumbling through the first few months, inadequacy was eventually replaced by confidence, anxiety became acceptance, chaos was transformed into welcome routine but the need for sleep was, still, the need for sleep.

Claire’s crying settled more and more as she grew older, giving us the confidence, as parents, to attempt going out for regular outings. One night at the local pub, we were enjoying our dinner with bubba-Claire sitting between us. Feeding her little portions from my plate, my fingers guiding me like an arrow to the target. All was going well, or so I thought, until her father calmly said,

“You know you are putting the potato salad in her ear?”

“Don’t be stupid!” I glared.

He leaned back into the chair, smiling, and took a swig from a glass of beer. I checked Claire’s face and almost died. It was true! Gooey mayonnaise lined the outside of her ear lobe because she had turned her head at the crucial moment.

“You do it, then,” I growled, and tossed the spoon in his direction. My hands felt for the edge of the table, planning to make my escape and dive underneath the tablecloth to cry with embarrassment.

“Tarry a moment to watch the chaos of a playground,

crayola-colored shirts of running children, all trying out their wings.”

SunWolf

Claire at four

Blind Parent, Sighted Child

At weekly General Assembly in primary school, parents and students shared in the giving of awards and mini-concert performances. I was happy to be part of the audience with the other proud parents, all of us eager to witness our children’s glowing achievements.

I pretended to see as I tried to take in the scene on stage but, in actual fact, the stage was a blur and the children on it all appeared like dancing red blobs. I had no way of recognising a single face or body shape.

I knew my child was out there somewhere. It saddened me so many times to miss all the visual activity, but other parents kindly described the unfolding scene, allowing for my rich imagination to draw a picture of some sort.

On one particular presentation day, an elderly woman sitting directly in front of me swung around with great excitement. “Look! See that girl over there, the one in the red jumper, that’s my grand-daughter. See her?” The grey-haired lady was falling sideways off her chair with pride and added, “The one in red.”

‘They’re all in red,’ I thought, amused.

“No,” I replied.

“The little blonde one, on the end.”

‘Nope.’

“You can’t miss her.” The woman was astonished. 

Oh yes I can.’ “No, honestly, I can’t see her.”

The grandmother waved her finger vigorously in the air. “LOOK.”  She spoke through gritted teeth. “Over there in the front row! Are you blind or something?”

“Actually, yes, I am.”

With a jolt of her head, she stared at me, contemplating whether I was just being difficult. Then swinging around to face the stage with her little princess on it, she muttered,

“Blind as a bat, if you ask me.”

Claire and baby Silver

You may also like to read –  I Spy with my Little Eye.

Do you have a Mother's Day story you'd like to share? We'd love to hear in the comments.

© 2014 Maribel Steel