Write Now

A Day in the Life of the Resident Wordsmith

Having heard about a Blue Mountain Arts greeting card poetry contest ending in exactly one month, I decide to give it a shot. There is no limit to the number of heart-felt verses one can submit. My plan is to create one and turn it in by evening, each and every day this month. I have read that the average pay per greeting card sentiment or verse is $25-300. I accept the deadline and get to work.

Three days in, I am hitting my stride, laying on my belly plinking away on my phone, spinning verse. As a rule, I am more likely to make a card than buy one. I prefer to offer my own sentiments, with artwork, instead of one that “almost” says what I would like to say, but not quite. Thinking about what's missing when I happen to scan the card aisle, I hope to fill those gaps. It's sappy work, but it's flowing and I knock out a couple in a row.

I am deep in thought when Dan says that he will have his headphones on and may not hear me if I holler from the other room. From what he can see, what I am up to, really, is sticking my tongue into a small bowl full of Cheerios and extracting a few to munch. Cheerios stick to both of my lips as I nod my head and give the distracted mmmm hmmm ok, but he doesn't even mention it. He has seen this level of weirdness plenty of times.

Being a writer comes with its own pack of rituals. Little bowl-y snacks is one of them. Half a bowl to get started, then the journey down the hall to the kitchen to pour the "I did some work" congratulatory other half of a bowl.

If things don't flow, a second "don't give up, you are almost there" bowl might be just the thing. If I grab the whole box of cereal and stomp out to the patio fuming, something went horribly wrong. I need to step away from the keyboard, far, far away.

Dan knows to go ahead and fill a bowl with "here's this, I love you, and how can I help” homemade toasted coconut vanilla ice cream, courageously offered to his snarling bear wife. I will say that it was a rather good day in my writing life. I shouldn't have added the photo dump task.

I am a nerd who is grateful to have a geek for a husband. Computer issues make me run for my yellow dogs (legal pads) and Ticonderogas (pencils) as I swear I will never type another word on that wretched machine.

I currently have 69,657 pictures on my phone. I say currently, because my albums fill to this capacity quite often. This is an actual tally. While moving them from my phone to my computer that day, they all disappeared. Poof. Gone. Eventually, everything caught up and they reappeared, shuffled and out of order, a good while after I suffered a sobbing fit/nervous breakdown.

There aren't enough snacks for that kind of loss. Photos are the lemon glaze to my pound cake stories. It was more than I could bear. We started working on solutions right away. I recovered my emotional balance and ravished love and attention on my nerdy, ice cream bearing husband. He's always got exactly what I need.

More words were said aloud than typed on that day. Panic, frustration, loss, consideration, cooperation, relief, and love all played their part in the tale. Still, words became sentences became paragraphs, and then the daily email submission, come what may. Push through and make it happen, or lay on the bed bawling like a two year old. Some days, both.

This was just ONE day in the life, but recently, I submitted a 100 word essay, a New York Times Modern Love Tiny Love Story, and I am working on a submission for Chicken Soup for the Soul about a decision that changed my life. I have written less here, because I am writing more there. I am dooooooing it!

Those stories have flowed easily, being so dear to my heart. There are other projects in the works, and good days and difficult days in my writing life, but oh, am I happy to have an active writing life to discuss.

Blessings from one wordy nerd-y,

Brenda Cordray

“The Desert Rose"

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/TheDesertRose

A vintage view of one of my rolling writing areas, with doggy helper included.