Prompt – Fandom

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I know that fandom isn’t a particular favorite here, but on Saturday is a yearly family tradition: Free Comic Book Day. It’s one of those days that is perfect for the family to hit their local comic store, check out what they offer, and pick up some freebies and some preview comics. There are also pins to add to my collection, rubber bracelets, and some sort of food, whether it’s pretzels or cookies or lollipops. It’s a great day to enjoy the spring weather and meet other comic fans at your neighborhood comic store. Later in the week, I’ll link you to some official FCBD websites and a way to find your local comic shop. In the meantime, I have two prompts for you to choose from:

Write about your current favorite television series/movie/book/fandom.

Write about your all-time favorite television series/movie/book/fandom.

You could also have two – one as a child and one as an adult.

Anzac Commemoration: 100 Years

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Written and photographed by my friend in New Zealand, I’ll repeat: Lest we forget.

bmagpub's avatarTripping the Light Fantastic

Anzac Day 2015

This weekend has been an important day to New Zealand, Australia, and Turkey.

On 25 April, 1915, the British (and their allies) decided to invade the peninsular overlooking the Dardenelle Straights to enable their ships access the Black Sea after the Ottoman Empire joined the Central Alliance.

On this day, young New Zealand and Australian soldiers were sent to capture strategic targets on the Gallipoli Peninsula. This was a very grim battle, with the Ottoman Empire defending their lands, under the command of Kemal Atatürk, now celebrated as  the Father of Turkey.

Losses were heavy on both sides, and after 8 months, the troops withdrew without securing the initial goals.

This year, marking 100 years since, has been important to New Zealand, Australia, and Turkey, with services to commemorate all the soldiers killed in this tragic and futile campaign.

The affect on New Zealand (and Australia) was…

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Memoir

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My weekly memoir workshop began yesterday. Eight weeks of free writes, homework prompts, feedback, new ideas, community, camaraderie, and so much more. I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks and our first class went beyond expectation.

For me this workshop is more than practice and writing. I joined this long standing group as newcomer back in 2012. I stumbled upon the notice at the library and I immediately signed up. I don’t even remember what I was doing at the library in the first place.

I had just been diagnosed with severe depression. In addition to that blindsiding me, there was anxiety creeping ever higher on the hit parade, and suicidal thoughts dominating many of my thoughts then. I needed distractions or at least motivation to continue on.

I had started attending talk therapy and went through a series of anti-depressants that took a bit to find the right combination. I lost two important supports, but found others. The only thing getting me out of bed in the morning was my newfound ritual – church, church, church, talk therapy for my depression, physical therapy for my knee, get through the weekend and start again.

This writing workshop was my lifeline.

One of the things I’ve learned in the ensuing three years is that there is no such thing as too much learning, too much information. When I talked about taking a memoir class people were surprised that I was writing my memoirs.

Of course I wasn’t. What in the world did I have to write about? I was nobody. But one of the other things I learned is that we’re all nobodies until we’re not. We all have our stories and they are each amazing in the scope of our families, of ourselves and in the overarching narrative of so many people in this country (and every other) who we pass on the street daily and read about in the history books.

The second thing I learned is that prompts are prompts. This class is focused on memoir, but memoir can be a jumping point to all other kinds of writing: fiction, history, picture books, cooking, travel, and more. And other writing topics are a springboard to all the other fields. I’ve recently taken a travel writing class that only supported the idea that all writing is related. The memoir class sparked everything and had made me a better blogger; taught me to find my focus and follow it. The travel class, as short as it was, gave me the impetus to take something on the sidelines for over five years and start it in a proper way that might be a magazine piece or a book. Either way, it will be something.

This class is still my lifeline even though my life is in a much better place than when I began. I’m thankful to say that while I’m still searching for myself, the suicidal tendencies have been tamped down. The class continues to be freeing and centering and only maintains all the ways I want to be and all the things I want to write and it lets me go anywhere. Whether a fictional ghost hunter or a memoir of my spiritual journey or a travel book of Wales, it is all there.

Our class theme this session is threads. Like the stuff theme before it, it sounds so little, so unobtrusive, but like the loose thread in a carpet that can unwind the whole thing, it can also reveal so much. From the bare floor to beneath the floor boards, children playing, dishes clattering, dogs scraping and scratching the wood. Is it a memory? Is it a fictional detective taking it all in tracking a killer, finding something else? Is it the floorboards of Thomas Jefferson’s first house?

Who knows?

But it’s all there for the finding, including finding yourself, a journey that never ends.

Traveling

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Sometimes, travel is little more than a series of random occurrences that culminate into an unexpected travel experience. That’s why journeys and paths are often used as metaphors. We understand the underlying meanings of undertaking a journey be it physical or spiritual. Even on a meticulously planned trip, there is still inevitable randomness that is simply out of your control.

The weather.

Traffic and Car Problems.

Construction and Renovation.

Companions’ temperament.

In 1986, I went to the U.K. My boyfriend broke up with me, we shared a dorm and he had a new girlfriend. If we were still dating, would I have gone anyway? It’s doubtful. I had nothing or no one holding me back. So I went, and it changed my life and my outlook on life.

Last Fall, I discovered a saint’s shrine within driving distance and so I went. My family was out of town. I doubt I would have made the effort if they were home. There is another shrine nearby. I’m going to spend some time there this Fall.

I’ve had the opportunity to travel by trains, planes, and automobiles. No boats though. Boats are not for me. I’ve been able to experience day trips, two week long holidays, and one week adventures. Hostels, hotels, campgrounds. Sightseeing, business travel, retreats. Family and solo. So many ways to go and so many places to stay.

As exhausting as traveling can be I find that there is nothing like the feeling of exhilaration and energy that recharges my batteries.

Seeing new things and seeing old things with new eyes are only two of the benefits of traveling.

As much as I like the convenience of traveling by car, a couple of years ago I took the train from New York to southern Virginia. I was nervous at first, that mode of travel being new to me and traveling alone, but I loved it. I loved everything about it. I loved watching the countryside out the window. I loved how much more room there was than on an airplane. I loved the wide variety of people and characters I ran into. I took notes and I eavesdropped discreetly. I read and I snacked. It was confirmation that it’s not the destination, but the journey that makes the traveling worth the trip.