Artistry With Words

From my latest endeavor, “Shadows Across the Pond,” which might be done by this summer, cross my fingers and hope . . .

Sarah and I made our way down to Capitol Lake and did the circuit twice.  Mothers and strollers, lovers and business acquaintances, dog-walkers and shuffling retirees kept us company as we found our rhythm.  She’s a good running partner, comfortable with not talking, at peace in her own mind.  I suspect she uses running as therapy, like I do, pushing memories of sexual abuse aside, allowing good vibes to enter, endorphins working their magic on her bruised and battered psyche.  I found her on a similar run, six months earlier, being beaten by her pimp.  I offered her a way out of the nightmare she was trapped in.  She reluctantly took that offer, learned to trust Liz and I, and soon became part of our family.  Her pimp did not survive that encounter, a sad statistic in a sad business.

Her auburn hair hung damp on her shoulders as we slowed to a walk at the end of five miles.  She was two weeks shy of twenty-one, but she had seen two full lifetimes of ugliness in that short span of time.  Her parents had died when she was fifteen. The foster system dropped her into the lap of depravity.  She ran away from that and entered a life of hooking at sixteen.  I found her, offered her a hand up, and she is now an irreplaceable member of our family.

It’s one thing to read about depravity in a police report.  In that form it is antiseptic and white-washed.  It is quite another to actually see the dark shroud of depravity fall over a victim and forever stain them.  Sarah survived her brush with the chimera.  There are thousands who do not.  The billion dollar business of trafficking thrives because of supply and demand, and ethics be damned in a society which likes to believe it is advanced.  Your next-door neighbor Sam, your boys’ Little League coach, may very well be paying one-hundred per month on adult porn films starring twelve-year old girls snatched from the streets of Topeka and held against their will with veins flowing GHB.  Your pastor may very well visit the House of the Rising Sun after his sermons, and his bed partners aren’t old enough to have a driver’s license.  This shit is happening and it is happening in your little corner of the world despite your denials.

Where does the darkness come from, Bill, I asked myself in a moment of self-reflection, but I had no answer other than the fact that I am an observer of life.  Everyone is shocked by the Jeffrey Eptstein story and the Harvey Weinstein story and the Bill Cosby story, but are they really shocked?  Can you really say that it all surprises you?  Child porn has been around for hundreds of years.  People have made fortunes filming snuff films, for God’s sake.  The human species has a dark side, end of story. Always has and always will!  You can’t pretend the Boogie Man away.  You can’t hide under the covers in a gated community and hope the ugliness disappears.

And so I write about it, in hopes of raising awareness about it, in hopes of somehow bringing about change for the better. It should never be acceptable for children to be exploited.  Never!

So sayeth one writer in Olympia, Washington!

COACHING

I’ve still got two spots open for coaching.  I make this statement with complete confidence: I can make you a better writer!  Drop me an email at holland1145@yahoo.com and let’s get started.

Bill

“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”

Tags: writing tips

A word or two about writing my memoir . . .

It’s a strange undertaking, writing a memoir.

Strange in that I am an ordinary human being.  I am not a sports star.  I am not a movie star.  I am not some famous politician or scientist or humanitarian.

I’m just a guy, a blip on the radar screen of the human race, one of approximately 100 billion who have lived on this planet.  If you passed me on the street, chances are I wouldn’t even register on your “give a shit” meter.  I am plain at best, certainly not handsome, and I have no distinguishing visual characteristics.  I have “shit brown eyes and hair,” I’m average in height and I’m average in weight.

I am boringly ordinary, and yet family and friends encouraged me to write a memoir because they believe my story to be extraordinary.

And in a way they are correct . . . my story is extraordinary . . . as is your story!  I believe we are all extraordinarily ordinary and I believe all of our stories should be recorded.

I am extraordinarily ordinary, just like the rest of you seven billion plus, and it’s about time ordinary had its time in the sun, don’t you think?  Ordinary is, after all, the quintessential default setting for us humans.  Ordinary is the raising of families and high school proms.  Ordinary is jobs and careers, passions and moments of confused indirection.  Ordinary is PTA meetings and bowling leagues, gardening and Little League Baseball.  Ordinary is a single mother of two toddlers, working two jobs to provide a quality life for her offspring.

I was raised by an extraordinary family, and I don’t want their story to die with me.  You see, I’m one of the few Hollands left on this planet, and I believe my family name deserves its place among the historical volumes.  We did some good, we Hollands, and good should always be remembered.

Pushing my ambivalence aside, I decided my memoir should be about love, since I believe love is the single most important thing in life . . . and so my memoir is a story of love, a self-help, feel-good, unashamed celebration of one man’s conquest over adversity, and the discovery that I am a product of love and a keeper of the torch of love.

If you are interested, you can pick up the book at Amazon by following this link.

And the Kindle edition.

A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE COMPUTER

I know this might sound ridiculous, but I swear it’s true. I was heading to the office and this thought jumped into my brain . . .hey, Bill, you once wrote a writing guide.  It has been so long since I published it (2015) that I had forgotten all about it.  “The Ultimate Writing Guide” touches upon all facets of writing.  It is fifty-four chapters about all things related to writing, and you can find it on Amazon by following this handy dandy link.

Have an extraordinary day in your extraordinary life!

Bill

“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”

Tags: writing tips

The flu bug hit Bev shortly after Thanksgiving and it is still “bugging” her.  She’s slowly on the mend but she was one miserable human being for awhile there.  I thought I was coming down with it the other day. I started feeling achy but then I went to bed, woke up, and felt fine.

False alarm!  I boast all the time about my ridiculous good health. Thank the gods I didn’t have to eat crow and tell you about getting sick.

“Eat crow” . . . I wonder where that phrase came from?

My dad used to say “that guy’s dumber than a doornail.”  Really?  A doornail?  Who thought that one up?  Is a doornail really stupid?  Are there even nails in a door? I’ve never seen them.

LISTEN TO THE PEOPLE

Go have a cup of coffee at some Starbucks and listen to the conversations.  It’s pretty fascinating, really.  We all use the same language basically, we all use pretty much the same  words, and yet each of us speaks in a unique way.

Remember that when you are writing dialogue.  It’s amazing how many writers ignore this basic fact,  and all of their characters sound the same.

A barista I know uses the word “like” all the time, as in “it’s like, I don’t know, really cold outside,” while another one uses the phrase “you know” at the end of almost every sentence.

Go out and listen!  You know I’m correct!

SNOW ON THE WAY?

Supposedly we might get snow the second week of January.  It’s kind of a big deal in Western Washington.  It sure doesn’t happen often, although last February we were buried under eighteen inches of the white stuff.  Anyway, snow is inspiring for me. I love to take walks in the snow and just stand still and listen to the silence while it snows.

“Listen to the silence” . . . the sounds of silence . . . totally illogical but a great image.  That’s what writers do. We transform the mundane into the spectacular and beautiful.

THAT WOULD MAKE A GREAT CHALLENGE

Think of a unique phrase, never before heard or written.  You can do it.  You have over twenty-thousand words to play with.  Let’s see what you come up with, shall we?

My dad was also fond of saying “he was busier than a one-armed paperhanger with crabs.” Now there’s a lovely image.  I really would love to meet the guy who thought of that witty phrase. I’ll bet he was an interesting dude.

WRITING COACH

Only one taker so far on my offer…I can make you a better writer…$50 for a month of unlimited instruction…you can’t beat that with a stick…see, there’s another one of those charming colloquialisms.

THE MEMOIR

Finally, the memoir….end of this week….I promise.

Someone asked me why I wrote a memoir.

It’s simple: I don’t want my life story, and the Holland family story, to be forgotten. I think our story…my story…your story…is important.

Have a brilliant week!

Bill

“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”

Tags: writing tips