It's All in the Details

My day job requires a great deal of attention to detail - I'm a medical technical writer, and I spend a lot of time studying medical records, organizing and documenting the results of all types of medical procedures.  I've always been rather detail oriented, so my job fits my personality pretty well, and my penchant for describing minutiae stands me in good stead at my office.   However, I'd much rather spend my time observing the details of the world around me and writing about them.  After all, to quote a favorite children's poem by Robert Louis Stevenson, "the world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings."   As the first days of autumn approach, my senses are piqued by the sweet aroma of grasses drying in the sun and ripening apples on the old trees in my orchard.  I pull on a sweater when I get up in the morning, and smile at the way the dogs' warm breath makes little clouds of fog in the chilly air when I open the back door.  Sometimes I feel as if I could write entire stories about the way autumn makes me feel, or the sensation that rises from hearing a marvelous pianist play Chopin on stage in front of me. 

I love novels that are rich in detail - that describe the character's movements and outfits and the way they hold their fork or brush their teeth.  And I love poetry that is grounded in the reality of everyday things, but which is able to elevate those things to a spiritual status, use them as doorways into our deeper feelings.  (Mary Oliver does this so well, as does Jane Kenyon, Billy Collins, and Robert Frost.)  In my own writing, I try to pay close attention to the telling details of conversation, of place, of activity, of emotion.  These are the things that transport me into the story, bringing it alive for me as I write, and hopefully for the reader as well.

Because I'm an optimist, I like to dwell on positive details...but negative details can certainly be used to advantage in writing as well.  The particular odor that assailed my nostrils each time I walked into the nursing home where my grandmother spent her last days conjures up all kinds of memories and emotions.  As does the smell of iodine in the dark stairwell leading up to the second floor of an old office building where my childhood physician's office was located.  Or the sound of an ambulance siren, screaming down the street, recalls the panic I felt when I was being taken to the hospital after suffering a severe reaction to an insect bite.  Entire stories can grow from those kinds of detailed memories and experiences.

It's all in the details, says the old saying.  While I spend my office hours knee deep in medical terminology and statistics, when I walk out the door I love to let my imagination roam free, my mind's eye feasting on all the details of the world around me.

How about you?  Are you detail oriented in your writing?  What are some of the details you most notice in the world around you?  What details do you focus on in your writing - place, character, emotional?  What are the kinds of detailed descriptions you most like to read about? 

Write On Wednesday Extra Credit: As you perform a household chore that you do on a regular basis - making coffee, washing the car, cutting the grass - notice every detail of the process. The smell of the coffee grounds as you spoon them into the filter, the hiss of the water as it splashes against the car, the rumbling of the lawnmower's engine.  Write about your experience in great detail.

Defining Moments

Human behavior fascinates me.  I love to observe people and wonder about what makes them tick, why they behave as they do, how their relationships developed.  Not surprisingly, I once thought about becoming a psychologist, but soon realized I was more suited to the role of observer than interactor.  And so I read (and write) about the intricacies of human nature, rather than attempt to help people solve their dilemmas with it. When I first met my in-laws, I was a bit dumbstruck by the dynamics of their relationship.  He, almost 20 years her senior, was paternalistic, gruff, and very conservative.  She had perfected the role of disappointed woman, nothing or no one ever being quite equal to her expectations.  Their interaction was almost entirely negative.  They never called one another by name, and were always quick to point out the flaws in the other partner.  At the time of our first aquaintance, they were nearing the third decade of their marriage, and so I wondered whether it had always been that way between them, or if it had evolved from nearly 30 years of disappointments. 

My mother in law worked full time, which was a bit unusual in the 50's and 60's.  She was an executive secretary (to use the vernacular of the times) at Ford Motor Company.  As I watch the tv show Mad Men, I realize how much the atmosphere of that office mirrors her stories of working life.  She always referred to herself and the other secretaries as "girls," as in " I was filling in for Mr. Smith's girl while she went to lunch." She had worked prior to her marriage, and throughout the ten years before my husband was born.  When he was 2, she returned to work, leaving him with a neighbor across the street. "I guess I didn't have to work," she would say, "but we sure couldn't have had the things we did if I hadn't." 

Money was a major issue in that family, and it defined and symbolized a great deal about that most interesting relationship. It seemed strange to me, coming from a family where money was comfortably plentiful and shared with ease and grace, to see a married couple with such distinct distrust of one another in regard to finances.  All monies and expenses were quite strictly divided between them, each one maintained their own private checking and savings accounts, each one kept track of their own expenses for long distance phone calls, household goods, etc.  I assume the costs associated with child rearing were equally shared, but all other costs seemed to be split down the middle, in the manner of roommates.

When I recall them, there is one moment that seems to define this odd dynamic.  In 1993, in the midst of my father in law's last illness (he had been diagnosed with leukemia, and was not expected to live more than a few weeks), I was driving my mother in law home from the hospital one day. 

"Do you need to stop anywhere along the way?" I asked, wondering whether she might need groceries. 

"Well, I could use some stamps," she answered.  "I think he (meaning my father in law, because they always referred to one another by pronoun and not by name) has some in his desk, but he'll have a fit if I use them."

Wow. Even now, writing those words, I'm dumbfounded by them - that a couple could live together in marriage for almost 50 years and have the kind of relationship where they begrudge one another postage stamps.

Incidents like that remain in our memories and say so much about our lives and our selves, don't they?  They stand out to our children, our friends, defining stages in our relationships and strengths or weaknesses in our character.

 In my own marriage, there are  many defining moments, and I'm happy to say, with much more positive results.  I've often wondered how Jim came to be the thoughtful, considerate spouse he is, having never had the opportunity to observe that kind of behavior in his own family. 

"I determined from a very young age that I would be nothing like them," he has told me.  And he has been quite successful, in terms of treating his family with generosity, caring, and concern.  In the early years of our marriage, he traveled often for his work.  I hated that - hated being left alone, being unable to contact him easily (this was long before cell phones!).  In 1985, he was sent to China for three weeks, and I was just devastated by the thought of him being so far away (it was actually Outer Mongolia, and phone service was spotty at best).  Before he left, he arranged to have flowers delivered to me once each week, complete with cards he had written himself.  I still get teary eyed when I think of that. 

A lovely defining moment.  

Small things in relationships speak volumes, don't they?  And the big things are even more telling.

Over the past couple of years, Jim has been unable to visit his mother...he just stopped going one day.  And so I would dutifully go every week or two, even though she really didn't know who I was.  When I was tempted to be angry with him, I recalled the time 20 years ago when my parents were in the midst of their divorce - that awful time, I still think of it - and how absolutely wrecked I was by the whole thing.  Jim took control, taking my mother to countless appointments with her attorney, going to court with her, when I simply could not bear it.  He stepped in without a word from me, and simply handled it.

A defining moment indeed.

Because I'm interested in human behavior,  tell me, what are some defining moments in your closest relationships?  What are some of the defining moments you've observed in the relationships of your family or friends?

Write What You Love

 "If there's a book that you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it."  

Toni Morrison               

At one time or another, every writer has been advised to "write what you know."  That's valid advice- to a degree.  Sometimes, it's possible to know too much about our subject, and our writing  becomes  imbued with a sense of boredom or didacticism rather than brimming with the excitement of discovery. 

I think writing should be a journey for the writer as well as for the reader, and the writer who carefully mines their passions and interests for subject matter will do well to look to those areas that are not only fascinating, but somewhat mysterious.

I often write about family relationships because I'm interested in the dynamics that exist in families, between siblings, parents and children, and across generations.  Besides that, I love reading about families and the way they handle the ups and downs in their lives.  In both novels I've written for NaNoWriMo, I've explored different aspects of family relationships and the legacies they leave.   During my writing I've come to some totally unexpected discoveries about my self and my family, discoveries that have led the story into unplanned directions.  The novel I'm thinking about for this year once again pursues this theme, concentrated on the relationship between husband and wife and the way it changes over time.

Write about what you'd like your life to be - have your characters living the dream life you've always wanted, and I can almost guarantee these characters will be exciting and real.  Write essays about something you've always wanted to explore - the Mediterranean, or Asian culture, or gourmet cooking.  Delving into your passions on paper will bring them to life in entirely new ways.

How about you?   Is there a book you'd love to read that hasn't been written?  What do you love reading about, and how could you write about it?  What fascinates you that could become the subject for your next story, essay, poem, or blog post?

Write On Wednesday "Extra Credit" Prompt:  Make a list of 10 things you're interested in learning more about...choose one and write about it in a way that inpsires a reader to want to know more about it as well. 

Postscript:  A couple of weeks past, we talked about The Power of Place in our writing.  Take a look at this video-post from writer Beth Kephart, as she talks about the power of place in her latest young adult novel.

Three Cardboard Boxes

That's all that was left of my mother in law's life today.  Three cardboard boxes. She slipped into a coma on Thursday night, and died peacefully Saturday morning. Today Jim and I went over to pack up her personal belongings.  It was the third time in six years that we'd packed for her, downsizing a bit more each time...the move from apartment to assisted living in 2002, from assisted living to memory care in 2005. 

In the cardboard boxes today we brought home mostly pictures - snapshots of Jim at various ages and stages, and of Brian at similar ages and stages, and photos of Magic and Molly, whom she adored.  Until recently, one of her favorite pastimes was re-arranging the photographs on her entertainment center.  Each time I went to visit her, they would be arrayed differently, and often she would take them all down whie I was there, tapping on the glass and laughing..."Isn't he the cutest thing?" she often said about one photo of Brian (age 6 or 7, seated at his desk and typing away).  "Awwww..." she'd sigh over the close up of Magic and Molly. 

Lastly, she would take up the framed photo of her mother and kiss it.  "That's my mother," she'd tell me each time.

But in the last six months, her facility for speech was all but gone.  Probably the toxins from her failing kidneys had destroyed the last bits of her communication center.  Words came out occasionally, but they made no sense.  And the pictures have remained in their final resting places for months now.

One of her favorite caregivers is taking all her furniture.  Lucy is about 40 years old, one of the dearest women I've ever met, who took great care of my mother in law despite the fact that she was often cursed, kicked, and once even thrown against the wall.  Lucy's husband left her for a 25 year old he met on the internet.  She "lost everything she owned," as she put it, and is starting all over.  Lucy also happens to be raising her five grandchildren and undergoing radiation treatments for breast cancer.  (As my mother put it  - "that man should be lined up against the wall and shot.")  Anyway, Lucy was ecstatic to have a sofa, chair, bed, dresser, entertainment center, television, lamps, and even some paintings to hang on her walls. 

"And I'll especially love having some things to remember Chris by," she said, hugging me with tears in her eyes.  "She was such a sweetheart."

I glance over at Jim who is sitting on the couch while Lucy and I discuss all this.  A sweetheart?  he's thinking.  His mother?  He wasn't at all surprised to hear about the scratching and kicking parts.  The sweetheart parts...well, he's probably not buying that.

It's interesting isn't it, how people's perceptions of others are so different, and so dependent on their personal relationships.  Lucy (and Chris's other caregivers, who all echo her sentiments) were able to look past her angry outbursts and violent moments, and find some affection for her. 

But her very sensitive son, who was subjected to that side of her personality throughout his life,  was unable to see past it.  It left a lasting impression on him, and he could never love her because of it.

So I'm glad she had Lucy (and Eva, and Deb, and Denise) in these last years of her life. 

I'm glad I was able to be with her on that last night of her life, to sit on the side of her bed and talk quietly to her about moving on into the next world. 

And I'm glad I have the three cardboard boxes.

Out of the Darkness (sticky post)

             In working with high school students for the past 15 years, I've had the privelege of meeting some incredibly special young people, and have remained friends with many of them, watching them grow into productive and talented adults.   Sadly, one of the best and brightest of these was lost to suicide on January 31, 2006.  I've written about Jeff before  -  his intelligence, warmth, humor and caring for others made such a deep impression on me.  His death was an immeasurable loss to his family, his friends, and the world. 

On October 5, 2008, I'll be honoring Jeff's memory by joining with thousands of others in a community walk sponsored by the American Society for Suicide Prevention.  AFSP is a non-profit organization exclusively dedicated to understanding and preventing suicide through research and education, and to reaching out to people with mood disorders and those impacted by suicide.  Please consider making a tax deductible donation in any amount to support this worthy endeavor. 

For more information, click here.