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Posts Tagged ‘historical re-enacting’

Still running on low brainage, and recovering from a wonderful long weekend at war. To tide you over, and also give you a really excellent perspective of what I do on the weekends, here’s a couple of fabulous short films made about the SCA by a very talented lady. Please to enjoy.

 

 

vimeo.com/176280231

 

vimeo.com/196029359

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Sometimes things pop into my head, and I have no idea where the hell they came from, let alone what they mean. Take today’s title. I’m rummaging in the refrigerator for the milk, innocently minding my own business, when BAM! there it is. And for some reason, I like it. It’s odd and catchy at the same time, sort of like a statement taken out of context as you walk by other people in the middle of a conversation. You have no idea what they’re really talking about but your imagination is running wild with the possibilities.

As part of our historical re-enacting, my husband and I spend three to four weeks a year camping at large events with our friends. There’s constant noise and activity and just taking a casual stroll through the encampments can bring all sorts of interesting snippets to our ears. Some of my favorites over the years:

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be purple.”

“Just feel the energy of your balls.”

“Put it in upside down.”

“I’m supposed to stay here until he dies.”

“Oh my God! That’s not going to fit!”

I have no idea what any of those statements really meant in the context of their (likely innocent) individual conversations, especially since they were all heard in the broad of daylight, but my imagination doesn’t need to know the facts for the fun to begin. Every one of these is now fodder for the fool.

My mind does that to me a lot. I catch a title from somewhere, and build the article to suit. I’d venture to say I probably have more titles than ideas to go with them. Or maybe there is an idea hiding there somewhere and that’s why the title appeared. I just haven’t made the connection yet. Whatever the mechanism, I seem to be passing by all sorts of weird conversations in my head and I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t get help for that.

So where is the fish and why should I ignore it? We actually have some of that faux crab meat (made from white fish) in the fridge, waiting for seafood salad night. Is this my subconscious telling me that it’s not safe? We just bought it a couple days ago, and it’s vacuum-sealed, so you’d think it would be okay. Or maybe it’s the carnivore inside trying to get out of eating a full salad on purpose, instead of just the occasional garnish next to the London broil. I can see the cross look on my doctor’s face even as I write that thought.

No, I think there’s much more to it than that…

Sterling held the trembling Vinnie at bay with his snub-nosed .38 and a sneer of satisfaction. Finally he would have his revenge. Tilting his Fedora with a touch on the brim, he took a measured step forward, ignoring the splash of a puddle on the wet pavement.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Vinnie pleaded, crumpling to his knees. “I don’t want to swim with no fish!”

“Just ignore the fish.” Sterling’s dark eyes were harsh shadows in his narrow face. “They’re the least of your worries.”

Or maybe…

Reginald led Sarah through the musty halls of the great old manse, explaining her housekeeping duties as they went. When they finally came to their master’s private office, she took careful notes while Reginald droned on about all the details of care expected for the book-filled room. Her eyes kept drifting to an aquarium near the lone window, dark shadows flitting through the greens, wondering just what she would have to do for that.

“Just ignore the fish,” came Reginald’s imperious croak. Startled, Sarah turned to find his pale, rheumy eyes frowning at her. “Master Victor deals with those himself.”

It might even be…

Artie had the audience rolling now. Even with the brilliant stage lights shining into his face, he could see people laughing so hard tears streamed down their cheeks. A lifetime of hard work and sacrifice led to this one moment, this one instant that could change his world forever. He clutched the talisman in his pocket and made his final wish as he let loose the punch line.

“Just ignore the fish, the guy says, ‘cause they don’t ride bicycles.”

The crowd roared.

 I can also imagine it being something Noah might have heard when planning the Ark’s manifest. As if it wasn’t obvious.

The point of all this is, I don’t have to worry about having the whole story from the beginning. My bizarre little brain will just naturally fill in the blanks as I get to them. The challenge is to make the story captivating and entertaining, even if it is as mundane as bathrobes and bunny slippers. That’s where the craft of writing comes to play. Everybody gets ideas. Not everybody can execute them, let alone well. Writing is a practiced skill, and by doing silly little exercises like this article, I hope to keep getting better. Let me know if I don’t, and just ignore the fish.

© 2013  Cheri K. Endsley   All Rights Reserved.

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