The Escape
This is that moment
THIS IS THAT MOMENT when they decide to go on the journey. Take the leap, despite the risks.
It’s my favorite part of the hero’s journey, in books and on film. I think because in real life, this is the hardest step to take.
When we are young, those choices are easier, but as we age, choosing to make change, against our fears and what’s at stake, is not an easy one thus rarely done. So, to see it happening, it’s inspiring.
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is such a colorful depiction of magical realism, at its best, with an incredible soundtrack. Ben Stiller always does well as the badly flawed. awkward, issue laden weirdo.. and directing this movie bravo ❤️
Trying to Remember
My face is a little bit rounder, and my heart is at its heaviest. There’s so much noise out here, even from this, the simple typing, these small words, noise.
This being said, I’m going to try something different, cathartic, because I need it. I’ll begin with photographs, it’s the easiest to manage. This way I can remember.
I want to remember the moments of greatness among “all the rest” that has happened, this year.
Each a moment, moment of light and weaved between the dark. Each a marker in my life of 2020.
To be let in, I am grateful. To share in our food. I am truly grateful. We are not alone, for that, I am grateful. Me not making a lower carb side dish, every one is grateful .
I feel a draft on my feet, annoying, even through the wool socks I wear. It reminds me of death. A constant reminder, it may be near. Breaths from our short laughing fits to the complements given to the corned beef, may bring it. Taking something so innocent, and actually joyous, turning it into something terrible. My mind can’t bear it, so I have another glass.
I’ll try to remember, remember this day, this moment.
Pulling My Head Out of the Electric Oven
Top Left to Right: Adela Florence Nicolson, Alejandra Pizarnik, Alfonsina Storni, Amelia Rosselli, Ana Cristina César, Anne Sexton, Beatrice Hastings, Charlotte Mary Mew, Deborah Digges; 2nd Row Left To Right: Inge Müller, Ingrid Jonker, Gertrude Bell, Jane Aiken Hodge, Elise Cowen, Katherine Lawrence, Penelope Delta, Robin Hyde, Pamela Moore; Bottom Row Left to Right: Helene Migerka, Sara Teasdale, Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva, Sarah Kane, Rosario Castellanos, Sylvia Plath, Veronica Micle, Victoria Benedictsson, Virginia Woolf
Writing; Death As A Possible Side Effect
“Natasha, you’re a crybaby!”
My cousins would tease when I was little. Running to take refuge in the arms of my aunts, I cried until hiccupped sobs only remained and fat tears streaked down my face. I was rocked in the comfort of their arms, quietly being assured everything would be okay.
At the time, I was the only girl in my extended family. My cousins ensured I was subjected to the random taunts most little girls at the age of seven have the pleasure of bearing. I was teased for everything I did and couldn’t do; crying only made it worse but I couldn’t help myself.
In my young mind I couldn’t understand and always wanted to know “How could they be so mean to me?” After all, I hadn’t done anything to them but trip on my own shoelace or couldn’t draw as well as Daniel. But in one thing they were right—I was a crybaby. And 30-some-odd years later I still am, sort of.
Today, I am a combination of being innately sensitive and slightly insecure. Each trait is mixed with a certain ‘awareness’ of brutal truths life imparts. In some ways because of this I do not differ much from that tanned Puerto Rican girl of my past. Creatively speaking the petri dish of my life has, at times, created a crippling affect in my ability to cope with the disappointments most of us can face. But more than that it has helped me become an intuitive person to life and people.
This complicated mix has been a curse and a blessing, both in my writing and understanding of others. For so long I felt alone in this acute knowledge. I was the only one screaming in a room of silent spectators. However, in becoming the writer I strive to be I’ve come to comprehend (some) artists and writers swim within the same realm of sensitivity, awareness and creativity.
DEATH BECOMES HER
“Artists are so sensitive.”Perhaps. And while there are many deeply rewarding aspects of being creative and highly sensitive person, it seems to me, this way of being, way of perceiving life and people can take an emotional and mental toll on writers, fine artists, actors, singers and comedians.
Each of the women depicted in the image above are Pulitzer Prize Winning poets, authors, story tellers and creators of real and imaginary worlds. They took their own lives (violently and otherwise), and the stories that still lied within them to the grave..to be forever untold.
But what makes us so different? Are we more susceptible to Mental Illness like the doctors and scientist try to correlate? Why are some of us pushed enough through the threshold of hurt, pain and disappointment to want to end it all? We want to stop asking the questions of why or looking for hope, however small it may be?
Demons.
As a writer I will take a biased stance. It seems some artists such as painters and sculptors can utilize their medium to exorcise their internal demons. The monsters they wrestle with can be force outward on a painted canvas and given a physical so that the creator can be relieve of the their burden. Writers however, can grapple with their monsters internally and dwell within this chaotic world for long periods of time before they can expulse the heaviness away from themselves.
When I write, I am always asking the question why. Why is love often pushed away? Why do parents turn a blind eye to their children in need? Why do we fail even when we work our hardest?
At times I use portions of my life to help ask and answer these questions. This seemly simple act requires me to relive some of my most hurtful life moments again and again. I do it once as I outline and another hundred times as I write and then edit. Play, rewind and repeat. Play, rewind and repeat.
The constant sourcing of one’s own life becomes taxing. It can wreak havoc on any writer’s emotional state, especially if you are close to the work of which you are writing about. It’s an issue of reliving and revisiting the monsters that have been tormenting you either consciously or subconsciously.
This is not to say all writers and artists are tormented creatures seeking the answers and meaning to life. But one cannot deny the many instances where the pain of a writers life translates on the written page affects not only the reader but writer themselves.
Take Dorothy Allison, author of ‘Bastard Out of Carolina’. Writing late nights after working all day on legal pads, writing the story of her life, and the abuse she experienced. From it came the semi-autobiographical book that became pivotal to her life and work as a writer. This constant revisiting can be overwhelming for a writer. Even Stephen King wrote a large portion of his most infamous works, while high on cocaine and alcohol. Was ‘Cujo’ a written manifestation of his own internal monsters?
Awareness.
Certain gifted writers can have extraordinarily high standards for themselves; they have low tolerance for mediocrity and develop a strong level of frustration during the execution of their work. They can have acute awareness of life’s complexities and consequences while having a strong need for self-determination and self-actualization; each ideal applying a level of pressure on them. In some cases this weight is enough to push an artist to extreme measures of abuse and suicide.
I Am Woman, Hear me Roar.
What is it about the inherent demands on female writers that lead to so many deaths of women writers? Is it the clashing of who we are as caregivers, lovers and strong holds in the home front all the while grappling with our identity and self-worth, a convergence that leads to disaster? From Anne Sexton to Rosario Castellanos, each creative maverick taking their own lives while coping with loved lost, death, abandonment and abuse; each having an “acute awareness” leading to distress over their own personal and social conditions. Quite possibly an existential dread creating depression causing their own death.
Lady Lazarus herself, Sylvia Plath, not only tried once to end her life, but it was on the dreadful third attempt did she finally succeed. At approximately 4:30 am, Plath had sealed the rooms between herself and her sleeping children with wet towels and cloth, placed her head in the oven, and turned the gas on. They found Plath dead of carbon monoxide poisoning. She was 30.
Although not suicidal, there are many times I feel the world I live in is not meant for me. When I know the heart I have easily breaks when the hope I have fails. Sometimes my active awareness is good but many more times I wish I wasn’t so sensitive. There are days, weeks and months that go by where I don’t want to understand the unspoken actions and behaviors of people or the inevitability of our lives. At times having the distinct feeling of not belonging, of feeling too different.
By no means am I comparing myself to Woolf, Hemingway, Burgos or any of our past writer heroes, but even at my level, swimming within the waves of awareness, sensitivity and creativity, has not always been easy to navigate. It has caused me to see life with a sense of futility as well as hope. And instead of taking refuge in my writing I at times become stunted. I stop completely, letting the weight of my pain, personal setbacks or hurt take over.
It isn’t until I read the work of others or speak to a caring friend do I remember what I had forgotten, that there has been and will hopefully always be calm under the words and in the worlds I’ve created within my stories. Although trudging through the unpleasant actions of my characters, mulling through the muck of the repercussions is not easy, I try to push through, always seeking out the reasons why.
Now, far from the tender age of 7; my life and its hurts have become more complex and colored within many shades of gray. Yes, it often does lead to some tears shed. I also realize my willingness to give has left me opened and exposed. I’m exposed in my writing, exposed in this post and in my love for others. In the end all I can be is myself and use my openness to help me become a better writer while hopefully achieving some internal peace.
Virginia Woolf, Died March 28th, 1941– Drowning
** Note: This particular post was inspired by my sense of feeling overwhelmed and pulled in by the tide of the story I’m creating. At times the need to source deep emotions and feelings from my own life makes it hard to stick to the narrative thread of my story and even my blog. It’s during these times I need to pull away and regroup. This is where I’ve been the last couple of months regrouping. I now find myself in a slightly better place. A space where I can push forward with research, writing and blogging. Fastening my seat belt and turning on the ignition I’m moving forward with my narrative for the next steps towards completion. It’s my hope that this post and my blog itself helps others not feel so alone as they may go through similar experiences, because you never are.
Trying to Remember
My mind is full, the weight on my back is heavy but my heart is happy
Why I Write….
Because as I see and feel both pain & love, I want and need my experiences to become words that exemplify the beauty in both –
– Natasha Guadalupe
I’m a Tad Paranoid About Backing Up
———–
‘Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered my plot and hero’s theory,
Over many a quaint and witty words of fate and lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came an error message zapping,
As of some one gently zap, zapping on my computer door.
Only this, saying it could not restore’
I say this say that I once lost about 5 hours of work and maybe shed a few tears. Unfortunately with me, once I write it down I can never really rewrite or capture the same words and feelings the way I did the first time around.
So……
All My Chapters….Main Story Outline: 40pgs….. Character Descriptions & Back stories 80pgs….Pictures: 70 images and a lot of Research is saved on my:
- Hard Drive
- Memory Stick
- External Drive
- DVD Disc
- Backup of my Backup DVD Disc I keep at my office (Just in case my house happens to burn down)
- Google Docs
- Ohhh yeah I have a full printed draft of everything I mentioned above.
What can say I’m a tad paranoid about backing up my story.
Little Dragon “Twice”
Penetrating The God of Walls
By: Natasha Guadalupe
Lasting for an instant, today and tomorrow.
Oshun’s warm waters flowed over the steep tower’s edge.
Empty corridors swelled,
as amber ripples swam.
Adorned and rich.
Palpitating against its gates
Primroses ignited.
His thirst quenched.
Eroding its structure,
dissolving its defenses,
Oshooon….went her waves,
seeping trough hidden chambers,
where casted dreams and fears lay.
Lucid now.
Who was she but a chisel,
rumbling the mortar loose.
Coaxing the brick wall to release and fall.
Agile and delicate her fingers were,
separating each block from its joint.
Pulling at the strength of his defense.
What gain could there have been
but imminent hurt,
an apparent offense.
Not worrying what will happen,
only what needed to be done,
He salvaged what remained
Body heaving, arms heavy.
Laying and interweaving;
each block placed as a foundation,
one on top of the next.
Tap tapping from the bottom to the top.
Disciplined and exact.
Trowels smoothing,
grout hardening.
Laid and now bonded.
Each line rebuilt.
Heart fortified.
Mind resistant.
Engulfed in fear, realizing truth
A God in the wall that was
A God in the wall that still is.
‘The ringing bells of the piragua cart…
‘The ringing bells of the piragua cart clicked clacked down the cobbled stone streets of Casica Blvd. They chimed the ugly truth that began to penetrate his mind.
It seeped through his skin like the cherry stained lips of school children licking the shaved mountains of ice. Each sparkling flake of snow flying out into the same sun that pressed upon his exposed face- blinding him from focusing on anything other than the past.’
–-Sitting in a restaurant on Ashford Avenue, Condado Puerto Rico. I took this picture while writing this passage from my novel. It felt good.
Writing By Hand
I didn’t have my computer at the cafe last night, so I wrote…..by hand, with my best pen in my worn spiral notebook….
It felt good.
FYI excluding a few cross-outs its a really good way to not self edit (which I suffer from…badly) You can’t really go back and erase…you’ve got to keep moving.
‘The warmth of the water….
‘The warmth of the water caused the wet cedar planks to slowly perfume the air with the sweetness of flowing sap. Looking above the clearing of the cabin, the tangled branches seemed to reach up to the distant stars creating a jagged picture- framing both the night sky and crescent moon.
The late hour was made darker by the dense canopy of trees and brush painted deep shades of blue and gray.
Despite the soft illumination of her silhouette he was still able to take in the strength of her quite presence.
Through her shadowed face he knew she was looking at him, just as she always did. What was she thinking? She seemed to gaze at him with both sadness and clear desire. How can both feelings and thoughts inhabit the same space and time yet separately carry through the minds of both Juan and Adriana.’
………AND SO THE EDITING AND WRITING CONTINUES.
Some Of The Tools I Use
Tools of the trade.. Books I’m reading to inspire and help structure my story (Oh yeah-that’s my bike helmet and doggie biscuits in the background..the essentials)
BOOKS TO INSPIRE
- ‘Tinkers’ – Fiction Novel By Paul Harding
- ‘Brokeback Mountain’ Short Story By Annie Proulx. My absolute favorite short story. But I mostly have it near me to remind me that I need to make every word count- short or long story writing.
BOOKS TO HELP WITH MY WRITING & STORY STRUCTURE
- ‘Stephen King on Writing’ – By Mr. King himself. Not only helping with my writing but a small look at the man behind his most famous novels. Surprising and VERY interesting.
- ‘The Writers Journey 3rd Edition’– By Christopher Vogler. The last thing I want is for my story to be too formulaic but since I’m new at this I need help with structure and for me this book has been AWESOME to read. I’m also a big movie/ film buff. This book uses both mediums to help you identify story structure and character rolls. Thank you Mr. Vogler and of course Joseph Campbell!!!
- ‘The First Five Pages’– By Noah Lukeman Although this is more for once I finish or as I edit my novel, its still a great read as you prepare.
RESEARCH… Visiting the Bronx VA Hospital
Story boarding isn’t just for the movies….
Now the question is can I read my handwriting…hummm?
SEX LOVE AND WRITING
…..OK, so I want to incorporate a love scene into my story….Not wanting to use the language of smutty romantic novels and sugar sweetness of Twilight’s pillow biting scene, I’m doing a bit of research. Just how did the great novelists of our world go about adding sex and love into a story? Well here is an example how Gustave Flaubert who wrote Madame Bovary created a huge scandal in his scene. In the scene the clerk has convinced Madame Bovary to join him in a horse-driven cab with the blinds down. Now the moment of truth has arrived and she goes along with it because she doesn’t know what else to do. The cab driver is instructed to drive anywhere he chooses………………………………….(He was arrested shortly after writing this) I don’t think I want to be this subtle.
Here is a great site that provides you with tips in this area http://rebeccalacko.wordpress.com/2011/05/27/feel-the-heat-sex-and-fiction-8-tips-for-building-tension/
Madame Bovary
‘Trying to focus on the sleepy warmth of his son’s body…..
‘Trying to focus on the sleepy warmth of his son’s body and the steady pace of his breathing, Juan wished for more time and more moments such as this. Instead, his thoughts drifted to the beginning when the decision was first made, when the decision to be alone would affect both his and his son’s life…..’
1,154 words down 48,846 left!!!! Hoorah to NANO!” – (First try at last year’s National Novel Writing Month)
Novel Writing Adventures & Other Words 
