I scanned the row of vehicles parked in front of the grocery store. Some of them looked promising. I ruled out the trucks. They would be too difficult to climb into with my sore hip. I peeked into a navy Sudan. A shaggy face looked back. The dog started to bark so I moved onto the next prospect. A four-door rust covered Pontiac stood like a relic from a simpler time. The door creaked open. I eased into the passenger seat. The springs were shot. It was like sitting on a gravel road. Next car, the driver came out before I could climb in. The passenger seat of a two-door sports car held a large box. I considered tossing it out but thought better of it. I was too polite to take such liberates. Last car in the row; last chance for a ride. No dog. No box. I wiggled around in the overstuffed, leather seat. It was comfortable enough to sleep in. My eyelids felt heavy. I leaned back and breathed deeply. A sudden breeze caused me to open my eyes. "You don't mind giving me a--."
"What the?" You jumped away from the car--almost slammed the door closed.
I'd scared you. Me? I had to laugh.
When I caught my breath, I said, "I need a ride. I know you won't mind. We live on a rural island; we help each other. It's just what we do."
"I'm heading South."
"North, towards the ferry, for me. I'll get out before you run out of road."
You sighed--happy to be behind the steering wheel again, I guess. You slipped a disc into a slot, the engine purred. A guitar, joined by a singer filled the car.
Music? We didn't need music. I coughed into my fist. "Do you mind?"
You got the hint and turned the music off.
"This island is woven together by an interlocking web," I began.
"Webs? Oh, you mean roads. Yes, we do--."
"Everyone knows I'm a storyteller. That's what I do. I tell stories. And that's what I'll do for you--if there are no more interruptions." I breathed out slowly, determined to remain calm, and began again...
Next post: Sunday, July 15th (at approximately 5 PM PST)
I'll share part 2 of Island Storyteller. Will you drive me home or drop me off in some bush somewhere? (Who could blame you?) We'll see.
Sharing my author journey...
This week, I solved the problem that I was having with a
story I was attempting to write. The problem was in past tense, third person the words just lay lifeless on the page. My challenge was to give voice to a male character--most of my characters are female.
Before I started writing for children I was intimidated by having to give voice to a child. But I overcame that--and now receive many positive comments for my efforts.
I rolled up my sleeves, clicked my pen and... Now the words sing. It's amazing what changing point of view and tense can do. So if you are facing story problems give it a try. Don't be scared.