Showing posts with label Ginny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ginny. Show all posts

Monday, July 28, 2014

we can be alone together

Christa stood up and helped Ginny on to her feet. Christa knew Ginny would want to hide away when she really just needed someone's shoulder to cry on. However, Christa believed no pain couldn't be healed when eating cheesecake, if only temporarily. And just as if they were kids again they climbed out the window and down the tree and ran as fast as they could through the lawn. Ginny couldn't help but give a little giggle as they jumped into the car. This action took her back to happier memories and right then that is what Ginny needed.

~~~~~~A Month Later~~~~~~

"Ginny, you want to go to Essie's house, I have some cleaning I have to do?"
"No thanks," Ginny responded without taking her attention off the TV. 
"Come on Ginny, I could really us your help, Essie wouldn't want you just sitting around."
"I am not just sitting around."
"I'll buy you a milkshake." 

Ginny rolled her eyes, that trick hadn't worked since Ginny was a child but she knew if her mom used that line she was desperate. 

"Oh alright," Ginny faked grumbled. 
"Thanks Gin bean." Her mom was over dramatic.

Ginny didn't know what to expect going to Essie's house without Essie being there. She hadn't gone back since she and Christa snuck out of the funeral. Her mom had gone back a few times always to do cleaning. Essie had kept the house so pristine, with the excuse that the Queen might drop by, that Ginny really couldn't tell what her mom had to do. Dad and her uncles decided to keep the house at least for the time being. Even though her extended family had moved  out of town they still came back to Essie's house for Christmas, Easter, Fourth of July, and other important gatherings. It held so many memories for everyone no one could imagine getting rid of it, but Essie was the true soul of the house. Even just looking up at the house it felt empty.

"Take your time Gin bean," her mother said seeing the deep breath she took.
"I'm fine," she said defensively.

Her mom reassuring put her hand on Ginny's knee. "It's okay not to be fine. Essie was a wonderful, loving, and irreplaceable woman. It is understandable to miss her." 

Ginny took deep breath and got out of the car all the while playing with the cross between her fingers.

"Good day Mrs. Camden," his voice called out over the lawn.
"Hello Alex, good to see you. How is your mother?"
"Oh she is fine, a little busy with my niece and nephew staying with them for a week."
"I am sure she loves it."
"Yes m'am she does it." Then he looked at Ginny. "Hello Ginny, it is nice to see you."
"Hi Alex," her tone was short.

Her mom nudged her in the rib cage telling her to be nice.

Alex Panswick, had been working for Essie for the last three or four years (Ginny couldn't remember exactly) but he had always been around. He was close friends with her cousins and every one kind of accepted him as family. Though he was considered family his high school crush on Ginny was wildly teased about. He used to leave roses for her outside on her window ledge, slip copied poems in her locker, and always bought her a gift for her birthday. Ginny just found it pathetic. He was not her type at all being a minor computer geek, president of the Purity Club, and he even sung in the church choir (without being forced to). While Ginny was away at college he bulked up a bit and got some muscle, which you would think would add to his appeal but Ginny just saw him as the annoying boy from high school.

That was until the night after Essie's death. Ginny couldn't remember all the details of that night, she just remembers sitting in the large oak tree that was in the middle of the wheat field. Ginny came there whenever needed solace. Essie had told her that her grandmother wouldn't let her grandfather chop it down even though it was in the middle of the field, she had said it was the most beautiful tree she had seen and she felt it was a special gift to them. Since then it had become more of a family treasure. There Ginny was sitting watching the sunset. She hadn't cried yet and could not be surrounded by all the tears of her mom and aunts. It must of been later than she imagined for she heard her mom's call out to her but she didn't want to get out of the tree. She kept searching the sky for the first star.

Then she heard his voice. "Hello Ginny."

Ginny wouldn't admit it, but his voice was always sweet to her.

"Did my mom send you out to look for me? I am adult you know."
"No, I came on my own. But she is just worried about you."
"Tell her not to worry."
"I think she rather see you for herself. Moms are like that."
"Thanks Alex, but I just want to be left alone."
"All right."

But he did not leave her, he actually climbed up the tree and sat next to her.

"I said I wanted to be alone."
"I know. I want to be alone too and this is my favorite spot." He frequently said corny lines like that even if they were truly sincere Ginny only heard them as cheesey. "You think we can be alone together."

"Fine, just don't say anything."
"Fair enough."

Then without her realizing it his hand were on top of hers. She didn't know if she was angry at him being so bold or comforted because he was there. But she started crying right then. He put his arm around her and she buried her face in his shoulders and he didn't flinch with her crying on his shoulder. When she calmed herself down she looked up at him, he took his thumb to graze away a tear and then held her chin. He acted like he wanted to kiss her and she was about to let him. He abruptly pulled away as if he saw something, someone that disgusted him. Without saying a word he slid off the tree and walked away.

He hadn't said anything to her since that evening and when ever she looked at him she still had flashes of that moment. And she was confused why she cared so much if he didn't like her.

beautiful picture of a tree

Monday, July 14, 2014

Sitting down and Writing

Previous post Inspiration Strikes 
I was actually thinking about this scene from Raising Helen when I wrote Ginny hiding in the closet
Ginny closed her grasp around the cross necklace hanging around her neck, she wanted to yank it off, but no strength came. Essie had given her this cross on her last birthday with the inscription "Always love" on the back.

"Here you go my love," Essie pushed the little box in front of her.

Essie wasn't a fan of big celebrations, she rather preferred to have a quiet tea and cake to celebrate her granddaughter's twenty-third birthday. Ginny opened the little box seeing the gold cross a little antique looking in the details. It was beautiful to be sure, simple but eloquent, and just like Essie to give something of a religious nature to Ginny. Ginny remembered the years of Easter egg hunts that had Bible verses in them instead of candy. It was beautiful though and Ginny knew it meant a lot to Essie.

"My grandmother gave that to me on wedding day, and her mother gave it to her before she came out west. I only had sons so you are the next girl to inherit it."

"Thank you Essie, it is beautiful."

"My grandmother, told me that it was passed on when the woman was about to start a new adventure."

"What new adventure is that, Essie?"

"I am not sure, I can just feel your life is about to change in great ways."

"Great ways," Ginny thought in that closet, did great ways include losing Essie one of the few people Ginny truly loved.

Ginny turned the cross over in her hand remembering the words Essie told her, "remember no matter what happens God will always love you, you can be separated from His love." Ginny nodded her head. She remembered going to Essie's church's camp for youth when she was in her preteen years and one night the speaker was giving a very compelling message and it broke Ginny's heart and that night she prayed for the Lord to come into her life. She said the words and it felt so genuine she even spent the next few weeks pouring over passages in the Bible. That was all before, before her parents fighting (even though they reconciled with lots of counseling) but still their words,their seeming hatred for each other, and their almost abandonment of her still scared her. Those scars sent her running her into the arms of Kyle, the first boy she thought she loved him and she gave him her most precious gift (as Essie called it) and then when she didn't feel like having sex with him again he dumped her. Ginny held these scars close to heart, so close that she almost put a wall around her and only Essie and her best friend Christa ever got beyond.

"There you are? I was getting worried. I hadn't seen you since the grave site," it was Christa this time.

Christa Evanston, had been her friend since preschool as she shared her snack pack with Ginny. They had grown up to each other with their houses only being a few blocks away apart and they had spent their childhood playing dress up, ridding bikes and having a lemonade stand together. Christa was almost a sister to Ginny and another grandchild to Essie. Christa had moved to San Francisco after college but when Ginny called her to tell her Essie died Christa was on the next plane. That's just they way it was between them.

"Personally I think it is odd to go to the grave site and see a body lowered into a hole. I don't think we should be contained in such a small box. I want my organs donated and then cremated." Christa sat down next to her putting her arm Ginny's shoulder.

Ginny naturally let her head rest on Christa. "I don't want to think about it."

"Then think about this, why don't we sneak out the window and down the tree like we used to and go out for a drink."

"No thanks," Ginny said softly.

Ginny couldn't think about drinking not after what happened to Essie. Christa understood without asking why Ginny said no, she felt a little pain about even mentioning a drink, of course Ginny wouldn't want a drink not with Essie getting hit by drunk driver.

"Cheesecake then?"

"All right."

Christa stood up and helped Ginny on to her feet. Christa had been friends with Ginny would want to hide away when she really just needed someone's shoulder to cry on. Christa also believed no pain couldn't be healed when eating cheesecake, if only temporarily. And just as if they were kids again they climbed down the tree and ran as fast as they could through the lawn. Ginny couldn't help but give a little giggle as they jumped into the car. This action took her back to happier memories and right then that is what Ginny needed.

I know I have said this before but I have never been one to just and look a blank screen and come up with a story but when I started writing this story it just came to me. It feels great just to sit down and type and to be honest I am not sure how long this inspiration will last. I have a couple of  ideas 1) I want this to be a multi-generational story ( I was inspired by the novel The Girl Who Came Home) 2) I want this to be a pure blog story. I know I could write this out traditionally but I kind of like the idea of this story being like a serial to follow through my blog. This isn't a thought, purely a noticing that this is my first work of Christian fiction... I will try not to be too cheesy/ I love reading books with characters of faith as a strong protagonist but sometime I feel it is too over the top and it turns me off. 

Keep following Ginny and Essie's story through the Ginny tag. 

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Feeling stuck....

I wish I looked this happy writing. Even when I love a story I get stuck and I have to step away and get some perspective, or find something that helps me with my inspiration. Mostly for this I turn to Pinterest. I collect many things on Pinterest from my love of Edwardian fashion, to beautiful country side landscapes, and my obsession with certain TV shows and movies. Sometime it is just filled with beautiful nature scenes. 

In my story The Grand Days I will admit I have gotten stuck. I am trying to write about Mattie's first time in London and all that she experiences. And while I have spent hours on pinterest looking up ideas I am not sure what I want to happen here.  So I need to step back and think things through. I think I want to develope Daphne a bit, develop her into a softer character. She has been rather harsh in the past.

One thing that has helped me in the past of getting unstuck is to spend lots of time typing up my story (as right now most of it is still hand written). Doing this somehow gives me focus on what my story is about and helps gives me insight into what to do next. 

Looking up pictures has been awesome...
Crowds at Paddington Station- July 2, 1908
Life is like that sometimes... In the recent past I have felt "stuck". I have wanted to do things in my life but because I still have to finish grad-school I haven't been able to do. Sometimes I let myself get down on the feeling of being stuck because I anticipate the future being so much better. However, I have had a personal conviction that I live so much in hopes of the future instead of enjoying the present. (I am trying to work on that more.) Though there are things I want for my future... I can't let my desire for those things stop me from living now. I have found the best cure for getting out of the "stuck" feeling is taking a step back, reflect on what is going on, and praying God to use me in this moment.

I am not feeling so "stuck" now... I more feel like things are shifting. In my church our pastor has left to move back to Illinois and that feels like a huge shift because he and his family have been a part of my life for 7+ years. Hank baptized me. Also my community group (Bible study) is taking a formal break for the summer (first one in years) and I have started attending a new group at Park Street church. Personally I feel things are shifting. I have been in grad-school for so long (at least it feels that way) and now I only have my thesis to write. But I am wondering if the library world is where I see myself... I don't know. As I have posted about I want to use my passions for God's Kingdom but I am not feeling passionate about Library stuff. I kind of would like just to write to my hearts content and be of service to people (over coffee, missions or whatever). I have been praying about this and more asking God for my heart to stay steadfast in him. 

I am excited more and more about my story of Ginny and Essie (still untitled) I am using some autobiographical things from my own life and Ginny will be facing some questions I have faced and continue to face. I hope using my love of writing stories and my faith will be a good outlet. 
Not really related to post but awesome Roald Dahl quote

Monday, July 7, 2014

Inspiration Strikes

Or a phone with a "note pad"
I follow a blog called Inkwell Inspirations that mainly has the focus for Christian writers. It is a great blog to read  in order to remember to combine my faith and my passion for writing. In a recent post they discuss the idea of being a "The Subconscious Writer." She explains this: "Because so much of my creative process takes place on a level even I do not understand. Ideas percolate under the surface, maybe for weeks, maybe for months, maybe for years. At some point they burst out like a geyser. Characters are talking to me, scenes unfolding in my head, worlds evolving, and I’m frantically trying to get them down on paper before I lose them. I’m sure if push came to shove, I could sit down and come up with an idea and craft a book like a normal person, but that’s not the way I typically do it, and it’s not the way I desire to do it."
I feel this is totally true of me. For example I was walking to my dentist I saw these houses and I thought they were beautiful and all the sudden a scene came to me... it is not a scene for the story I am currently working on... it just came out of no where. I took out my phone and pulled out my "notepad" on the phone and began to type. I love when scenes like this come to me it makes my walk abouts more interesting. She ends the post saying "In the end, being a “subconscious writer” isn’t the goal. It’s just the process. The ultimate goal, whether pantser or plotter, is to be led by the Holy Spirit and allow him to flow through every word we put on the page. This is how to write with a godly passion that will cause our readers to fall in love with our stories and transform them from the inside out." 

I agree with this... I don't always want to be a subconscious writer one day I would love my faith to be more and more about of my writing but you got to start somewhere, right?

Here is the scene...

It was a great big Victorian home with intrinsic molding, a minimum of two bay windows, and high pointed roofs. Built in the last decade of the nineteenth century in the heyday of the golden age. While it was all posh and prestige on the outside, it was Ginny Camden grandma's house. The house was filled of memories of her playing dress up and Essie (as Ginny called her Grandma) reading to her the books of Little House on the Prairie and Anne of Green Gables late into the night. She had memories of her summers spent there, she got her first kiss there from Lawrence (who she had a crush on all summer mostly because she was going through a Little Women phase and he not only had the name but had a slight resemblance of a young Christian Bale). In later years Ginny felt Essie was the only one who understood her, in years as a teenager when her parents fought non stop Essie's home was a place comfort. Today was not a day of joy.

Ginny rested her heads against her knees that she had close to her chest. She could still smell the dye in her new black dress. 

"There you are," her mom found her buried in Essie's closet. "I think you should come out and see some people, there are a lot of people who want to see you."

Ginny just shook her head. 

"Some of your friends are here. And lots of food."

Food? How was that suppose to comfort her? No one cooked as well as Essie. 

"Please Genevieve."

She didn't know how she was suppose to get up she could barely stand. Everything about this day felt wrong. This house would not feel the same without Essie sitting at the kitchen table that could look out to the street. 

Ginny just shook her head. 

"Alright Ginny, take your time."

"She's not up to coming out yet," she heard her mom say.

"God bless her soul," a woman's voice responded.

God? Where was God in this? Essie had always been a true believer attending church every Sunday morning and evening, and Bible study on Wednesday nights. If she hadn't gone out that Sunday night she would still be here. God could have protected her. Essie was always going on about how God was a great protector but He didn't protect her that night. God was obviously not there

Ginny closed her grasp around the cross necklace hanging around her neck, she wanted to yank it off, but no strength came. Essie had given her this cross on her last birthday with the inscription "Always love" on the back.
Okay I didn't write all that on my walk but it just started coming to me. I really want to see where this story goes.