Mountains in the Rearview

I recently returned from a trip to Colorado, and ever since then, I've noticed something different. Mostly about myself: I'm calmer. I'm not so scattered or anxious. Why is this?

First of all, let me highly recommend a trip to Colorado whenever you get a chance. There is so much variety in that state, there are so many things to do, that you will always find something there to enjoy.

My personal favorite is Rocky Mountain National Park. You start with sweeping meadows ringed by pine trees. Then you drive up Trail Ridge Road along switchbacks and past craggy rocks. Finally you emerge above the treeline to another world: the alpine world. Here everything is short and tough, designed to withstand the high winds and cold temperatures. And the views are breath-taking, everywhere you look. "Purple mountains' majesty" starts to make sense.

Throughout the park, there is abundant wildlife to be seen: elk, moose, deer, marmots, chipmunks, ground squirrels, untold species of birds, and much more.

Among all of this, however, I have found one thing that I enjoy more than anything else: the mountain stream.

When I was a child, I loved to throw rocks or sticks into the stream: rocks for the satisfying 'sploosh' and sticks because I could run alongside and track where the current took them.

Now, however, I'm content to sit beside the stream and listen to what it has to tell me.

Then something happens: when I listen to the stream, my head goes silent. All those random thoughts, all those worries, all the planning and plotting that fills my head—it all goes away. I'm left with only the sound of water tumbling over rocks ... and a peace that is rare for me.

I sat beside such streams several times during my trip. Each time, there was only the stream and nothing else mattered. It was the ultimate form of meditation.

Don't get me wrong: I drank in the mountain views, the wildlife and the wildflowers, which were everywhere. I cried when I had to leave ... and I stared at the rearview mirror for as long as the mountains were visible there.

But now I feel a stillness that I couldn't achieve before this trip.

I don't know how long it will last, but for now I'm holding onto it. I like the calmness, the peace, the feeling that things will be all right.

I'm trying to keep the mountain stream in my heart.

Stream at Hidden Valley, Rocky Mountain National Park

Trust Your Readers

Part of your job as a writer is to set the scene, to explain to the reader what is happening, but you need to be careful: unnecessary information can be distracting … and sometimes annoying!

For example, if I wrote that Hawkins went to the starboard side of Penumbra and then I added an explanation that the starboard side is the right side of the ship, my readers would roll their eyes and sigh. Yes, Diane, we already know that. If they didn’t know that, I apologize, but they can certainly look it up. That’s what Google is for, right?

How many times have you read a story and wondered why the writer insisted on telling you things you already know? It’s simple: the writer doesn’t trust you.

This includes the distracting facts that tell you the writer is simply showing off: how fast light travels, how many bones are in the human body, what the square root of 3,472 is. Most of the time, the reader doesn’t need to know these facts to appreciate the story. Only if it is directly relevant—for example, the forensic scientist found 202 adult bones, so four are missing—should these little tidbits be included. It’s never a bad thing for a writer to know these facts, but it’s in bad form to include them in the story when they’re not needed.

It’s also bad when you tell the reader things that he/she should be able to figure out from what’s happening in the scene.

For example:

    Bobby kicked open the door and hurled his keys across the

room. He muttered under his breath as he slammed the door

shut and flung himself into a chair.

    Katrina appeared in the bedroom doorway. “What—?”

    “Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Now let me ask you this: what is Bobby’s mood at this point? Do I need to tell you or can you figure it out for yourself?

How about this?

Bobby slammed the door. He was angrier than he’d ever been.

Katrina appeared in the bedroom doorway. “What—?”

“I’m so mad at Joe!” Bobby shouted.

In this case, I’d be a little ticked off myself, mostly because the writer doesn’t trust me enough to figure out Bobby is mad on my own. As a reader, I never appreciate it when the writer decides to spell out the obvious for me.

I admit that it’s a fine line. Sometimes you’ll need to step back and pretend you’ve never seen this scene before; then decide if everything you’ve included needs to be there. You could also have someone else read the scene and tell you what can stay and what should go.

When in doubt, though, trust your readers.

Silence

I'm like the Grinch in one respect. No, I don't hate the Whos. I don't hate Christmas. I don't yell at Max. But I do hate the noise, noise, noise.
Maybe I'm just getting old and cranky. I know that part of it is because I have tinnitus. If you don't know what that is, have you ever had your ears ring after a particularly loud sound or a noisy concert? If you were to have that sound in your ear(s) all the time, without relief, that's tinnitus. It can be different sounds for different people. Mine is a high-pitched shrieking sound, like a tea kettle whistle. Tinnitus is apparently supposed to make a person more sensitive to sound, and I am proof of that.
What I don't understand is that people around me seem to require sound/noise all the time. I listen to the radio, I watch TV, but there are times when I like to sit in relative silence, a thought that would make many of my co-workers recoil in terror. "Silence? How can you stand it??"
When I was growing up, nobody thought silence was bad. As a kid, I played outside without a radio to listen to or videos to watch. My family traveled to the mountains and went on long hikes where all we heard was occasional wind and the birds. I don't remember considering that torture (well, except for the tough hiking part). We might even spend an evening reading, with no sound except pages turning.
Now everybody's got to have ear buds or a radio or a phone or a TV or something. It puzzles me.
People ask me, "How do you come up with all those ideas for your novels?"
Here's the answer: silence. Almost all of my ideas come when I'm walking in nature or staring at a computer monitor, in silence. Silence lets my mind settle down, roam at will and make connections that it could never make with constant outside stimulation. It needs that breathing space to get creative.
I don't hate music or TV or whatever. These things are entertaining and have an important place in anyone's life. But don't let them rule your life.
Give yourself a break once in a while to let your mind wander. You'll be surprised by what you might come up with.

On the Verge

I missed writing a blog in January. Sorry about that! I hope you had a wonderful holiday season. Happy 2018!

My January was full of upheaval, especially at work. A lot of things changed, some for the better and some yet to be seen. We were put into different groups, we were given different supervisors, we were physically moved around the room. It took everyone a while to get used to it.

I was one of them. I don't mind some change, but we got a lot thrown at us all at the same time. My team changed, my original group's title disappeared, I had to get used to a new location with a few challenges. I'll admit that I had a little trouble with it.

I think I'm getting more used to it, though. That's what happens, isn't it? You grumble and complain, you wonder why this had to happen ... and then you turn around and it all seems normal. It's happened before. I'm sure it will happen again.

Nevertheless, I was glad to have a few weekends to process things. It's nice to have some quiet time to put things in perspective.

This weekend was no exception. I'm on the verge of a decision regarding work and I needed some time away to think about it.

So why on earth did I find myself driving to work and parking in the lot on a Saturday?

By now, you should know that I'm a birder, so this next bit won't surprise you.

For several weeks at work, I've been walking in the hallway to get some exercise when something outside caught my eye. I've stopped by windows and doors to squint out at the field north of our building because there was movement in an otherwise empty space. As you might have guessed, it had two wings. It was a Northern Harrier. I wasn't sure at first, but then I glimpsed the white patch at the base of its tail and I knew.

Several times I've stood still to watch its aerial acrobatics as it glides, stoops and banks over the field, searching for some unlucky rodent to make its meal. I've had more than one person ask me what I'm staring at out there. Nobody seems surprised when I saw it's a hawk.

Without binoculars, though, I couldn't see the bird very well. It's a big field and the harrier seemed good at keeping its distance. As a result, I drove over there with binoculars this afternoon to see if I could get a better look.

It was chilly, with a brisk wind, and my heart fell as I pulled into the lot. The field looked empty. I put on some gloves and earmuffs before I stepped out of the car. Still no sign of hawks. Resigned, I decided I might as well walk a little before the drive home.

I walked around the building and stopped. There in the EAST field were two harriers! They hopped around, spreading their wings over the ground as if protecting something, although they didn't appear to have caught anything. Then one took flight and soared over to the north field. I followed and was rewarded with twenty minutes of watching a beautiful hawk gliding over a field. Every time the hawk turned, I got a good look at the striking patterns and colors on its chest and tail. Its long yellow legs hung down and then tucked up against its body. The wings were masterful at propelling the hawk through impressive maneuvers. In short, it was breathtaking. I forgot the chill in the air, the craziness at work, pretty much everything as I watched in awe.

Now I'm back at home, where it's warm, but I can still see that hawk. I don't think it ever saw me because it was concentrating on the field. I'm sure it wouldn't have admired me like I admired it!

As usual, Nature provided me with some time to leave behind my cares and worries, to enjoy something with a clear mind and open heart. I think I'm ready to make a decision.

Don't forget the Great Backyard Bird Count this month! Here's where to find more information: http://gbbc.birdcount.org/  I encourage you to give it a try and turn in your counts. You never know what you will see.