She and Me, In Her Shoes

On the wall painted in blue-black ink
Times Roman font are letters but I can only just see
Ho….r  is  ?
if I lean forward extending my torso further
around the pole leaning off the black seat where I sit
but only if I stretch can I see
my eyes fill in the missing letters
w ar fun
which complete the question painted in black-blue letters
How far is fun?
There is more to read but it is lost to me
the letters bold and brazen demanding to be scene
the question steals my concentration, wraps around
until it’s all I can see.
How far is fun?
It’s in my reach, it’s in
the book I am reading marked
at page one-hundred-seventy-three,
playing from the mp3 player tuned to track number two
from CD five-hundred-twenty-one — a somebody done her
wrong song; in the poem I am struggling to see
because the man I want is not at my knee
he sits within and I carry his heart in my heart.
He took up residence at a quarter to three
on a clear day by the sea
he pushed passed the introductions and proceeded to seduction
and stayed for no other reason than we had to be
How far is fun?
I am fighting the memory when
we found ourselves stranded in a room with
a four-poster bed, serenading lapping waves
the crimson sun coming through the sheers dancing in on moonlit wind
where we stumbled and crashed in time with the sea
How far is fun?
I banish this room painted by
light and curse the question that demands
I calculate the journey to fun,
I lean forward
hoping to change the course of my thoughts
and not count the steps back to fun
it’s not the question but the man who found me
alone. Once I was happy inside of my skin with
no need of company , alone with my books  and no
need to take a journey to fun until he said why not
accompany me and chance what we might see
there might be more than you would believe
and here I now sit in the airport leaning to far back into my past
because of the letters painted on the wall
How far is fun?

When I am creating a character –- likely, a woman looking for her passionate life — as the writer I have to step into her skin. For a while, I am she and she is I. Somewhere along the way, I am booted out and it’s only she being she. Until that moment, the writer in me is always asking questions.

Who are you?
What makes you tick?
Is there a great-lost love?
What happened?
Are you always your authentic self?
Starburst or M&M’s?
Black Coffee or Green Tea?
Wine or Scotch?
Left or right brain?
Funky and damn near new or Bloomingdales?
Teenager, twenty-something..?
Curvy, tall, short,

I snoop around until the two us entwine and the thread that connects us is invisible. Then and only then can I relinquish control of the story to my character’s wishes, whims, dreams, but above all, her flaw, and foibles.

Ezzie Ortega, co-author of the How Far is Fun, poem, is looking for the moment she stopped living a passionate life. She takes off on a Thelma and Louise— without the violence — road trip, with her long time pal, a famed Broadway thespian, Lucille Gantry, in search of that lost instant. A voice in her head whispers… When was the last time I lived with reckless abandonment? Nothing. There are crickets in the alcove of her cluttered memories.

After working with Ezzie on the poem, I heard a similar voice in my own head. How far is fun for you..? I share Ezzie’s cluttered recesses in the vault inside of my own head, but that’s where we differ. There are no crickets chirping up there, nope, there are only words, places to create, and characters, waiting for a place to shine. I was asked recently if writing was any fun and was it worth it?  I smiled. If they only knew how much.

How close are you to your next moment of fun?


I’m a writer and hoarder of one-size-fits-all panty hose. Until the hose fits over my bum, I write to provide an alternative view on writing and perfection.

18 thoughts on “She and Me, In Her Shoes

  1. It’s funny because this morning I was working on my WIP when I had one of those moments. Something wasn’t right. It’s not that I don’t love the story I’m working on. It’s that it’s not the story I’m supposed to be writing NOW. I have another idea that came to me in a dream and the idea won’t leave me alone. I can’t work on my WIP until I get this one out. So, I changed gears, gave in to my new idea, and now, the fun has begun. :)
    Kelly Hashway recently posted….Touch of Death Giveaway #3My Profile

    • Kelly – it’s always the way, isn’t? I am having more fun working on the novellas and dragging my feet on the edits of my 2nd WIP. I like the story for both, but one is moving faster than the other. Go figure.

    • Deborah – I admit I’ve not had to walk the hall of depression, although, I have had my moments of frustration. Usually the only solution is to step back and let the mind clear, or in my case, work on something new. If you haven’t tried that – give it a go, you might find when you go back to the difficult piece you have gained perspective.

  2. I loved this – the unique mind that took a random moment and a scrap of prose and grew it into a whole world, allowing words to flow and shape a person, a life, a town, a reality, a drama unfolding. It’s fascinating, isn’t it, what inspires that firestorm of creativity. I never know when it will strike, or what will light the fire for me. I just know that my mind is never, ever still. Characters bustle through my consciousness; some mosey, some stand quiet and still. They all manage to occupy space in my fertile imagination, carrying their own fabric of reality along for me to give voice.

    How close am I to my next moment of fun? Usually no further than the next breath, yet never clear on what that moment might comprise. That’s the beauty of it all.

    – Dawn
    Dawn Sievers recently posted….We continue.My Profile

    • Dawn, you connected the dots brilliantly. It is random at the start and somewhere on the page it all comes together. If truth be told I am in love with that part of the process, the magic and how the words and weave delicately on the pages, slowly taking shape. You’re right, it’s never further than our next breath, perfectly stated.

  3. When I write I feel like I’m working with clay to mold a sculpture. I knead and knead the clay. I pinch some off here, make an indentation there. I stretch it on this side, and nip it on the other. And finally, I’m done! Through my fingers, I feel that clay turning into my finished product. And then, I post! Ah, the written word!
    Monica recently posted….Mad WomenMy Profile

    • Monica, great way to visualize the process, a lump we shape into something, pinching and tucking as we go through the mental process of creating.

  4. Is writing fun? Absolutely. Outlining included, no matter how much some people hate doing it. Unfortunately, right now the translation refuses to leave me some time or energy for writing.
    angel011 recently posted….Friday FunMy Profile

  5. Hi Brenda,

    My next moment of fun is never far off. There are many things which I enjoy doing that are within reach. Whether it’s solitary fun (writing or some other creative endeavor) or fun with my girls, I seek it out as if it were as essential as air to breathe — which I think it is. “Let’s do something!” starts it off and away we go. It could be as simple as the bowling alley, the movies, or the arcade, the place doesn’t really matter. The laughs that we have together stay with us long after the activities are done.
    Ray Colon recently posted….The Sensible MillionsMy Profile

    • Ray – I don’t actually think about it when I am in the moment. I know when I was writing about my character, Ezzie, she hadn’t had fun-fun in a long while so it was a question she has to answer. Answering the question is easy for her, explaining to herself why is the challenge. She has to confront the past.

  6. Closer than I probably would want to admit. Brenda – ever the inspirational! I think I just had a bit of an A-Ha moment reading this. I made a focused effort to move away from living (or writing) with reckless abandonment. It was kinda scary. In my concerted effort to live (and write) with more purpose and intention I think I killed something in the process… like the “fun”. Thanks for the homework 😉
    Astra recently posted….The Cool Caf CredoMy Profile

    • Astra -I truly believe every writer goes through this phase, I know I did. For me, I thought I had to be literary, write seriously and with purpose. One it was boring as hell, two my voice was so false, and three I HATED IT. Now, I write genuinely and LOVE it. Btw, I borrowed you name the other day for a story I am writing.

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