Daily Life Under a Microscope

“My life is so ordinary! Nobody would be interested!”
This statement vies with the desire to keep secrets and protect privacy as the top reason people give for not writing their lifestories. Poppycock! I’m pretty sure a centipede’s knee would be fascinating if looked at under a microscope and described with flair. Besides, what we take for granted today will be exotic to our great-grandchildren in fifty years. Wouldn’t you like to know what daily life was like for your ancestors 100 years ago?

In today’s guest post, Pittsburgh resident Bea Carter put her plain vanilla morning routine under a microscope in this delightful essay. With deft strokes of her keyboard, she has transformed the ordinary into a uniquely creative essay that  I think you’ll agree is remarkable.

Flexing my Economic Muscle
Rosie the Riveter has nothing over me.
Now a U.S. icon, Rosie represents women who worked in factory jobs vacated by men conscripted to fight in World War II. Saying “We Can Do It!” while flexing her biceps, she became a symbol of feminism and of women’s economic power.
Following Rosie’s example, today I do my part for America—not in a factory manufacturing goods but at home consuming them. In doing so, I am flexing my economic muscle.

Some greet the dawn with a chant or a prayer. Me—I begin my days with rituals and routines that, in the end, are all about consumption—using goods and services for which marketers have created demand. Bombarded by messages to buy-buy-buy, I yield, participating in commerce that makes our nation’s economy go.

 
I wonder what people would think a hundred years from now if they found this snapshot of products I perfunctorily use just to get from my bed to my breakfast table…

1. My hi-tech clock radio lulls me awake—its soft, far-away sounds getting louder and louder so I am not blasted into the day.
2. I throw off my bedcovers—sheet, bedspread and comforter.
3. I sleep-walk to the double-paned window to close it.
4. I patter to the thermostat to turn up the heat…
5. …then on to the bathroom (equipped with sink, tub, commode). I let the electric company know I’m awake by turning on the bathroom lights.
6. Next product: toilet paper…
7. Then water to flush everything away.
8. I squint into the mirror. (Hel-lo Go-ah-jus.)
9. I pick up my toothbrush…
10. …and squish some toothpaste onto its bristles.
11. After brushing my mouth awake, I remove my nightgown…
12. ..hang it on the hook…
13. …on the back of the bathroom door.
14. I turn on the shower.
15. The water comes out brisk and hot, heated by our efficient hot water heater.
16. I grope for the shampoo.
17. It’s in the caddy that hangs from the shower.
18. After I lather, rinse, repeat, I grab my bath puff.
19. I squirt some liquid soap onto it and proceed to scrub.
20. I eye my pumice stone, which I use to smooth the callouses on the bottoms of my feet. Not now, but next time.
21. Pushing the shower curtain aside…
22. I step out onto the bath mat.
23. I reach for my towel—a nice, thick, thirsty, oversized one.
24. I run my comb through my now towel-dried hair.
25. Then I pick up a bottle of special facial serum that promises to defy aging skin, and I apply it even though I can’t see myself in the steamed-up mirror.
26. Next I grab a tube of cream formulated just for the “delicate” skin around my eyes. I dab it on.
27. On top of those potions I smear an ample dollop facial moisturizer with Sun Protective Factor.
28. After that I grab a bottle of body lotion, also loaded with SPF, and apply it all over.
29. Now I’m ready for the next barrage of goodies. For these I don my chenille bathrobe.
30. Back in my bedroom, I sit down at my dressing table, a heavy, tall marble-topped Victorian piece that a childless Civil War surgeon left my grandfather. Since I inherited it, I am not counting it as something I purchased. But at one point in its life, someone bought it. And it traveled up and down the eastern seaboard before landing here.
31. I turn on a tensor lamp that gives out just the right amount of light for applying makeup.
32. I pick up my hair dryer and turn it on. In 10 seconds, my hair’s done.
33. Then I peer into my magnifying mirror…
34. …surveying my face in general, but looking for stray whiskers that have begun to colonize on my chin. For them I am armed with surgeon-quality tweezers.
35. I pick out some eye shadow (somehow I have three shades of nude) and apply it using the little sponge-tipped applicator that comes with it.
36. Then I give my eyebrows some love with a brow pencil.
37. I dab clear mascara over my brow hairs to keep them in place.
38. I pick out eyeliner—brown usually, but sometimes blue-gray—and apply it.
39. Brown mascara for my eyelashes is next. Got to have it, otherwise I look like Little Orphan Annie.
40. I skip the blush, which I generally use only at night.
41. I skip the lipstick, too, although I have at least 4 tubes of it. It’ll just wear off at breakfast.
42. My hair gets a spritz of hair spray.
43. Finally, I add a dab of perfume (not the real stuff).
44. Now I dress—underwear, top, pants, sweater, shoes and socks.
45. Opening my jewelry box, which I’ve had since high school, I don my watch and earrings. (When you have pierced ears, you have to wear earrings.)
46. Down in the kitchen, I fill up the teakettle with tap water.
47. I put it on the stove, which I turn on.
48. While I’m waiting for the water to boil, I use a juice glass to take my vitamins and medicines using filtered water I keep in a pitcher.
49. Then I flip on the little TV, conveniently perched on the counter, to hear the morning news show, which we can tune in thanks to our multi-tiered cable TV service.
50. I open our apartment door and grab the newspaper—I like to read the news while eating breakfast.
51. Back at the stove, I place a filter in the cone that goes with my drip coffee pot.
52. I ladle in some coffee using a special measuring spoon. By now the water’s boiling, so I add the water to the grounds in the cone. Ahhh…the aroma of freshly brewed coffee…I fill my favorite coffee cup anticipating that satisfying first sip.
53. But before that, I open the kitchen cabinet and retrieve a bowl, and open the drawer and pick up a spoon.
54. Open the fridge…
55. Take out some fruit and put it in the bowl...
56. …add some yogurt.
57. Settle down in my chair at the table, food, coffee and paper before me.
58. After half an hour or so of reading, I load my dishes into the dishwasher.
59. Then I mop up the counter with the dish cloth.

At last, I am ready to get on with my day. The first item on my To Do list: shopping—for some of the products I used just to arrive at this point.

 
Write now: zoom in on one of your routines and write it down in this degree of detail. Draw on memory to record a typical day or season in the past. That day will be a composite because one ordinary act blurs with dozens of others into general memory over time. You may be surprised at the complexity of life. Your descendants will be amazed. Include enough detail about equipment and such that they’ll be able to understand what you are talking about.

What Does It Mean to Fit In?

All my life I’ve wanted to fit in, or so I thought. Now I wonder. What is it that I wanted to fit into? Some might say their jeans, but so far, my jeans have fit fine. I wanted to fit in with others, to blend seamlessly with the group. To be an insider. To be like others. Suddenly I wonder: just what does that mean? What was I hoping to be like? And who were these people I wanted to fit in with?

Last month travel writer Annabel Candy published a blog post, 35 Ways I Don’t Fit In, and she challenged readers to make their own list and link back to her post. When I sat down to make my list I realized that any given item is far from unique. Each specific attribute will be shared by a multitude of others – like DNA, it’s the total combination of shared elements that makes me unique. In no particular order, I’ll list  35 of the countless elements that add up to my unique experience and self.

1. I love chili, the hotter the better – up to a point. Inspired by Elizabeth-Anne Kim, I’m working on a Kindle Short about my adventures as a Chilihead.

2. I spent my public school years in Los Alamos, moving there after the Manhattan Project chaos had settled down and Los Alamos was closer to being a “real” town.

3. I have visited all fifty states, and lived in eight of them.

4. I love working with Photoshop.

5. I’d rather be writing than nearly anything else – except traveling and playing with Photoshop.

6. I almost never use recipes when I cook.

7. One of my two earliest memories was sitting on the floor by my mother’s knee with a needle and thread and scrap of fabric. I knew I was only  making tangles, but that didn’t matter. I was sewing!

8. In 1961 I placed second at the state level in the New Mexico Make-It-Yourself-With-Wool contest.

9. I began violin lessons in fourth grade.

10. In high school I played string bass in the New Mexico All-State Orchestra.

11. My favorite afterschool activity in high school was drama club, known as the Olions. I always worked backstage.

12. I love to drive stick shift cars and still own one.

13. I have hiked the Milford Track and Tongariro Crossing in New Zealand.

14. I have walked across edges of Antarctic glaciers.

15. I can’t carry a tune by myself.

16. I love walking in the woods.

17. I do not enjoy gardening or yard work.

18. I do not like talking about myself!

19. I love solving puzzles.

20. I do things in binges, i.e. writing, playing computer games … even cleaning.

21. I used the kitchen clock as a calculator to keep score when my sister and I played tiddly winks as preschoolers.

22. I love taking pictures, but don’t give a fig about f-stops and all that jazz. That’s what Photoshop is for!

23. I have a great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother buried in Oakwood cemetery in Austin, Texas, right behind Ima Hogg, less than two miles from my daughter’s house.

24. I graduated from Boston University.

25. I was once a movie star’s houseguest at his beachfront home.

26. I was treated to a reed kayak ride on Lake Titicaca on my most recent birthday after dancing with village women.

27. I began using AppleWriter on our Apple ][+ computer right after Halloween in 1982 – 30 years ago!

28. I have six grandchildren living in three states.

29. I have made every type of clothing article from hats to shoes, lingerie to winter coats.

30. I was always the last one chosen for softball in grade school.

31. Many of my best friends live in my computer.

32. I’m a lifelong supporter of public libraries.

33. To my chagrin and amazement, I love ebooks!

34. While failure is not an option, giving up often is.

35. I quit wanting to fit in. I like my unique mix of me, and realize the joke was on me. When I quit trying, I fit in with most groups. 

Any life writer will recognize this list as thirty-five story ideas. You know lots of facts about me that you probably didn’t know before, but not the story behind the facts. I could easily cluster these ideas, combining them into perhaps a dozen or fifteen stories. That’s how a memoir is formed. Find your key ideas, cluster and arrange to fit a story arc, then let those fingers fly!

Write Now: Compile a list of 35 things that make you uniquely you, then write some of the stories. Post your list to your blog or Facebook, and please, link back! I’d love to hear a few of your items in a comment too.

The Birth of Ritergal

Someone recently asked about my alias of Ritergal. “Do you have a split personality or something?” he quipped.

“Well, actually, yes,” I replied, “or at least I used to.” I went on to explain that although I had not yet met her, my muse Sarabelle bestowed this name on me seven years ago in 2000. That’s the only way I can explain it. She gifted me with it for the purpose of keeping Ritergal’s Story Site anonymous. I wanted to share some stories, while safeguarding the privacy of others. Ritergal was a great cover, with no link to my “real” persona.

Sarabelle knew what she was doing. She knew I’d like that name, that I'd find it dashing and jaunty. She knew it would challenge me. Indeed it did! I felt a bit like a little kid playing dress-up. In the early years I found it easier to write certain things if I put on my Ritergal cape. Ritergal was more daring than Sharon could imagine being. Ritergal could be sassy and true, or gently tender, as the need arose. Ritergal wrote outside Sharon’s boundaries, though she seldom took the results public. Sharon was better at details and documenting. She was a great editor and organizer. She did the geeky layout stuff.

Ritergal played a crucial role in my development as a writer, but as I drifted away from posting on that website, Ritergal took a nap. She woke up again in February 2006, when I began this blog.

“Hey there! Remember me? I want a piece of this action, and you know we make a great team... how about it?”

“You bet! Where have you been?”

“Giving you a break. Now it’s time to get to work.”

I’m so happy she’s back and part of my life; part of me. She’s especially obliging about providing cover in public places like writer’s forums. In fact, she may be more widely recognized than Sharon, but just as the world can easily discover that SARK carries Susan Ariel Kennedy’s passport, Ritergal no longer hides her DMV identity.
When I say she’s part of me, I mean that with my whole heart and my whole brain. Until recently, I considered Ritergal to be a bit of a charade. She was the real writer Sharon aspired to become, as in when I grow up, I want to be a writer.

Sometime over the last several months I realized that being a writer isn’t something that can be measured by numbers of stories, publishing credits, or anything tangible. Being a writer is a way of thinking, a way of analyzing feelings and experiences to articulate them in succulent ways. Being a writer involves experiencing the moment in full, living color, and consciously anchoring the details in a neural databank, with organized tags for convenient retrieval. It means living life as an observer and interpreter of the human experience.

Being a writer also means writing — writing more than grocery lists. Email counts, as long as it includes more than “See you then.” I'm often asked if I write every day. Yes. I write every day, I eat every day, and I breath every day. Some days I get dressed and leave the house.

I can’t point to a date for the transition, but a few months ago I realized that Ritergal’s cape had become comfortable. It fit. It was warm and cozy. I no longer had to hide behind the curtain while Ritergal was in the forefront. Ritergal and I have fused as surely as our son John became Lippy. Ritergal is no longer that mysterious essence I hope to live up to — Ritergal is uniquely me.

I strongly encourage any aspiring writer out there to consult your muse to find and claim your Writer Name. Claim it in gmail. Claim it in forums. Use it and grow into it.

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

Writing With Courage

Every now and then someone asks how to handle a story topic that isn’t currently “politically correct.” I include an example of such material in The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing (to be released in July 2007 by Lighthouse Point Press). It’s about the time I ordered extra spicy food at a Chinese restaurant. I include the dialect of the immigrant Chinese owner in the story, introducing it at the top in the title, “Esstrah Spicy.”

The original version of this story included words like “evil gleam” and “sinister grin.” I would have used these terms to describe a blue-eyed, blond-haired Swede in the same situation — in my mind, they had nothing to do with ethnicity. However, as I read the story with an eye toward publication, I realized those particular terms fed into wide-spread stereotypes from decades ago that had nothing to do with the story. Other words serve the purpose equally well, and I edited accordingly.

I was aware a few people might be uncomfortable with the dialect, but it was as much part of the ambiance of that restaurant as the Asian decor. I would find a glibly American accent on the tongue of Chinese restaurant staff as jolting as French Provincial furnishings. I don’t think anyone would question using dialect if the character hailed from Boston — is China any different? The dialect is an integral part of the story. It stayed.

Where do you draw the line on political correctness? My personal rule of thumb is to tell the story as I understood and saw it, as long as I’m not being intentionally hurtful or mean. Within that determination, if I’m aware something is questionable, I work through this list as I make my decision:

• Is there another way of stating this without changing the meaning? If there is, I'll change it.
  
• Does this description or incident lend significant value to the story’s purpose? If it doesn't, it shouldn't be in there anyway.
  
• Do I have any underlying malice or spite toward the person I’m describing? Malice and spite turn a story bitter. Better to not tell it at all, or at least to wait until the edge is off.
  
• Does the benefit of including this material outweigh the risk of offending or hurting?
  
• Does this material express my own truth?
  

I would never advocate being purposely crash, disrespectful, or insensitive. However, scrubbing all questionable references to personal characteristics that define the uniqueness of others would sanitize the life out of stories, rendering them sterile and boring.

This same sanitizing can distort historical accuracy, giving a false sense of the times you live in. For example, in today’s culture, using the term “Nigger Town” is beyond imagination for most people. But if you grew up in certain parts of the United States in the early decades of the last century, that term was in common usage. It may have been a significant part of your mental map. While it will sound shocking, even offensive, you deny the reality of the times by writing around it. You can soften the impact by including a line or two to explain the cultural context of the times, and perhaps write about your own evolving vocabulary and attitudes. The explanations allow you to teach and witness in a positive way.

You’ll have to make your own decisions, based on your own sense of inner truth and personal integrity. Write with tenderness and courage. Celebrate differences, and don’t let the PC Police force you into hiding your reality and truth.

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

Succulent Writing

Some people are deterred from writing about their lives because they feel more comfortable with a paintbrush than a pencil. SARK* is the poster child for such people, showing how to combine a few words with compelling images that enhance the message. I refer you to books by SARK and her Planet SARK website for examples of another way to express yourself. Click on the image of her latest book (to be released in April) to explore the wonders of her way with words and art. Even those of us who are artistically challenged can benefit from SARK's succulent views on life.

She breaks all the rules about typing and formatting in an extraordinary, unique, hand-written way. I’d never advise anyone to copy SARK's specific style, but I urgently suggest that you emulate her general approach. Her work spills directly from her heart and passion as it colorfully splashes onto the page. Unless you have the gift of drawing or painting, you’ll likely confine your efforts to colorful words, but hopefully they will come straight from your heart and your passion for life.

Should SARK’s example inspire you to experiment with embellishing hand-written sagas with your own art, turn to your scanner to electronically consolidate your output. Combining your scanned images into a PDF document (think Adobe Acrobat Reader) allows you to print all the pages at once, and/or share them as an e-book via CD or downloads.

The high-ticket way to do this is to purchase a copy of Adobe Acrobat (standard or professional, not the free Acrobat Reader). Most individuals will find Adobe's prices prohibitive. Fortunately there is an affordable alternative: The Pdf995 Suite. You can download and use this full-featured suite of pdf creation tools for free, without any time limit. If you want to avoid pop-up ads for their other products, you can purchase a key for a mere $9.99. I definitely recommend key purchase as a gesture of support for those who make such powerful software available at no charge.

With either of these programs, you can incorporate dozens or hundreds of pages of text and/or graphics into a single PDF document, suitable for sending to a Print-On-Demand (POD) publisher such as Lulu, or sharing as an easily viewable e-book.

I’m about to grab my Crayolas™ and some paper and try a little SARKish succulent writing. Will you join me?

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

* It took some digging, but I discovered that SARK, the name this creativity maven always uses, is derived from Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy. Truthfully, I like the ring of SARK better than simply Susan, but remember, I'm partial to my own chosen moniker of Ritergal.