But when I tried to explain that to the rest of my family at my mother’s seventy-sixth birthday gathering Sunday afternoon, the projects that kept me occupied over the three-day weekend sounded dry, even to me: brain aneurysms, a Civil War reenactment, a pastor’s thirtieth anniversary of ordination, a fundraiser for a young man with ataxia of unknown origin and degeneration of the cerebellum, a tattoo artist, two elderly cats in a shelter, a press release about hospital fall programs and another press release on diabetes screening for children.
Until, that is, you read them. Because the goal of all my writing is to first please me, but then to also (hopefully) grip the reader.
While one might argue there is a cavernous difference between a program listing and a vampire series, the two actually have quite a bit in common.
The other day, my marketing guy praised Bryony’s vividness, it’s ability to deeply draw him into the story. Is that not the goal of all writing? So with the feature stories and news releases I hammered out this weekend, I strove to recreate:
• the drama of a brain rupture and the passion the survivor, a former dental hygienist, now has for nursing and helping others in their crises.
• the zeal a young farmer, working his nearly 150-year-old family farm, has for Civil War reenactments and turning kids onto history and agriculture through a trip to the past and the giant pumpkins he grows.
• the dedication of a pastor to Hispanic ministry and the merging of two Lutheran parishes: one a 140 years old and the other a Hispanic mission, into a single thriving urban unit.
• why people should come out and support a fundraiser to send a dying, young man to Las Vegas, because his only wish is to meet and sing with Garth Brooks.
• the joy an artist has for his tattoo apprenticeship, so people can carry a bit of his personally-created art with him.
• the satisfaction when a one-eyed cat, who’s lived in a shelter since 2003, has finally found a loving home, and the hope that an even older cat will soon find the same.
• the reassurance that, no matter if your health concern is knee pain or uterine fibroids, there are answers for you.
• the urgent need to screen children for a disease that previously only affect adults.
And yes, I tempered all that writing with “family and friends” time: chatty conversations on the route with Rebekah, an equally as chatty conversation with my oldest son Christopher while he related his Kentucky weekend via cell phone as I power walked the neighborhood, a catch-up with a friend and book formatter whose plate was fuller than mine when I took a much-needed coffee break, and a “meaning of life” discussion with Timothy during a trip to the grocery store for fresh fruit and tomorrow’s dinner.
Best of all, I learned yesterday that, unbeknownst to me, Christopher had taken a draft of Bryony’s third book with him to read on the train, so he spent a few minutes sitting cross-legged on my office floor (He’s 6/10”, mind you, and my office is in a tiny attic), sharing comments, insights, and reactions.
Now if that wasn’t a perfect way to spend a holiday weekend, I don’t know what is.
Until, that is, you read them. Because the goal of all my writing is to first please me, but then to also (hopefully) grip the reader.
While one might argue there is a cavernous difference between a program listing and a vampire series, the two actually have quite a bit in common.
The other day, my marketing guy praised Bryony’s vividness, it’s ability to deeply draw him into the story. Is that not the goal of all writing? So with the feature stories and news releases I hammered out this weekend, I strove to recreate:
• the drama of a brain rupture and the passion the survivor, a former dental hygienist, now has for nursing and helping others in their crises.
• the zeal a young farmer, working his nearly 150-year-old family farm, has for Civil War reenactments and turning kids onto history and agriculture through a trip to the past and the giant pumpkins he grows.
• the dedication of a pastor to Hispanic ministry and the merging of two Lutheran parishes: one a 140 years old and the other a Hispanic mission, into a single thriving urban unit.
• why people should come out and support a fundraiser to send a dying, young man to Las Vegas, because his only wish is to meet and sing with Garth Brooks.
• the joy an artist has for his tattoo apprenticeship, so people can carry a bit of his personally-created art with him.
• the satisfaction when a one-eyed cat, who’s lived in a shelter since 2003, has finally found a loving home, and the hope that an even older cat will soon find the same.
• the reassurance that, no matter if your health concern is knee pain or uterine fibroids, there are answers for you.
• the urgent need to screen children for a disease that previously only affect adults.
And yes, I tempered all that writing with “family and friends” time: chatty conversations on the route with Rebekah, an equally as chatty conversation with my oldest son Christopher while he related his Kentucky weekend via cell phone as I power walked the neighborhood, a catch-up with a friend and book formatter whose plate was fuller than mine when I took a much-needed coffee break, and a “meaning of life” discussion with Timothy during a trip to the grocery store for fresh fruit and tomorrow’s dinner.
Best of all, I learned yesterday that, unbeknownst to me, Christopher had taken a draft of Bryony’s third book with him to read on the train, so he spent a few minutes sitting cross-legged on my office floor (He’s 6/10”, mind you, and my office is in a tiny attic), sharing comments, insights, and reactions.
Now if that wasn’t a perfect way to spend a holiday weekend, I don’t know what is.
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