Open Mic Blog Hop!

Okay, hopefully this works. Technology hates me...Also, it was way bright outside, but it was the only place it was quiet...

This is what I'll be reading :)

Airplanes

It’s nearing noon and she’s clutching my hand as though the blood pumping through me is flowing right into her. I feel like life support, I’m keeping her alive, I alone am responsible for her strength, for each step that she’s taking. I am the mama bird waiting to shove my little offspring out into the cruel hard world. I’m making her grow wings and fly on her own.

We spent the last two hours in a car packed so tight that when the doors opened the suitcase fell on my foot. The radio the entire time was loud enough to drown out the screams in our hearts saying “Don’t change this, don’t leave.” And so we sang like we were happy, like we were whole, like we would stay this way forever and the trip we were taking was just an ordinary one. Like she’d be coming home with me in the end.

Now we find ourselves holding hands as the suitcase trails behind her, and I carry her backpack. We give strength to each other the way we had any time the other was weak. We approach the kiosk to check her in. The woman from the airline smiles friendly enough, but she doesn’t understand that I’m about to let go of the last four months of my life. That the girl beside me will be a fiercely independent woman the next time she walks through the terminal. I’m breathing, she’s breathing, the woman behind the counter is breathing. We don’t matter to her, she doesn’t matter to us, but in this moment, we’re all connected. She’s taking my sister’s luggage, taking her from me, and I smile and put my credit card in the machine to pay the $60 fee that she can’t afford because for some reason I always have money and she never does. She thanks me and says she’ll pay me back, and some day down the line, I’m sure she will…but I would rather keep her than my money. I once more ask her is she’s sure she wants to do this. She reaffirms to me that she’s taken an oath and has to leave, it’s out of our hands now (yet hers is still in mine, I don’t want to let go).

We carry the 36lb and 47.2lb bag to security. No sir, there are no flammable items, and yes sir, they’re unlocked. The bags are gone, save the backpack and computer case that she’ll carry on board.

I’m sad, but I find it hard to cry even at funerals. She sets her bags down and embraces me so I can feel her body pressed against mine like we’re merging to be one person. And that’s how it’s been for the last four months; we were one entity, one person. We were “The Smiths” or “The Smith-Heads”. I wasn’t Jennifer, she wasn’t Laura. She says she loves me just loud enough that it plays through my ear, and I can feel the emotion through her arms. My entire being is begging her not to leave me because I’m scared to be alone, because I’m scared of her growing too strong without me, because I’m not sure how to stand on my own without her. None of this I can say out loud, as I’m supposed to give her strength to pretend that I’m fine and so she’ll be fine, so I resolve to hug her until my arms tire.

I’m the little sister, and I am just that, little. Without effort, she lifts all 110 lbs of me, and because I like to make a scene, I wrap my legs around her in a koala like bear hug. And we sing Leaving on a Jet Plane because we don’t know when she’ll be back again. We laugh into each other as she sets me down. I tell her to take care of herself, she says to keep in touch. I can’t stay long enough to wait for her to board the plane or even walk her over to security, I’m two hours late for work, and it will be four by the time I arrive back.

We embrace once more and though we can’t feel it, a razor just crept between us, murdering The Smiths and birthing Laura and Jennifer. We step apart, dazed from the impact, and look at each other for the first time, the other half which had completed us for so long and begin stitching up the hole where the other had been.

Goodbyes are said, and I walk to my car, the car we had used the entire summer. There is vomit on the paneling from a friend’s birthday the previous weekend. On the other side of the car, there are massive scratches that will eventually be buffered out, and pieces that will hopefully be super glued down from her backing my car into a tree. But for right now, these pieces take the place of her for me.

The key has been in the ignition for the 15 minutes it took to get her settled in, and my car jumps gently to life. I look back at the airport and say a prayer under my breath that she’ll be brave in her new life, that she’ll survive the heat and humidity and have an awesome year. As a side note I pray for myself, that I can breathe on my own, that I too will be brave in my life without her.

My foot finds its way off the clutch and I alone head to my destination to lay claim to a place that had once been ours but is now mine. 

Okay, thanks for stopping by!

Open Mic Blog Hop!

First and foremost, I'd like to thank Cassie Mae for all of her assistance in the assembly of this blog hop. Without her help and guidance, I would have been completely lost. (Thanks, Cassie!)

If you've been following my blog, you know I'm a wicked anxious person. But as writers we'll all face that moment when we approach the stage, and GASP! read our work out loud. Or, we'll go on a book tour, and be like Eminem and be all, "He's nervous, but on the surface, he looks calm and ready," and address a ton of strangers to impart some wisdom on everyone.

At AWP, they talked about going to coffee shops, and open mic nights and getting our names out there, so...

...Consider this blog hop, a practice run:

Omg, Open Mic Blog Hop!
Yes! Thanks, Baxter, for suggesting it! :)

I've chosen April 19, 2012 because well, it's my birthday and it gives me something to look forward to, and it's not even April 1st yet, so you guys have time to get your game faces on.

What We're Doing:

*Pick a piece. It could be the first chapter of your novel, a short story you really like, a few poems. BUT it has to be yours. 

*Find a camera that takes video

*Video yourself reading your work out loud, to us, your captive audience

Tips:

--I'm personally going to aim for like two-three minutes. Maybe less, because like I said, I'm anxious.  

--If you'd like, you may also post the writing to your blog, so that we can read along with you as you read to us 

--Remember, look up. We'll actually get to see you now!

--If you're nervous, it's okay. I'll be freaking out, too!

--If you'd like, you may edit your video, but umm....my computer is old school, I won't be able to, so you'll get to see me turn my camera on, read, and turn it off. Bax may make a guest appearance since he usually is where I am

--Have fun with it!

For the record, you can upload videos directly to blogger, or if you prefer and have a YouTube channel, you can do it that way. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! Also, please sign up on the linky at the bottom, and steal the Blog Hop thumbnail thinger for your blog, too!


One More Thing:
If we're able to reach 75 participants, two people (chosen at random, probably by Baxter) will get a five page (written, not read out loud :) ) critique from me. If they'd like, anyway. :)

Overcoming Anxiety

I wrote a few months back about how I try to PUSH MYSELF out of my COMFORT ZONE, and how I have a lot of anxiety when it comes to reading. Tonight, I took a huge step in the direction of overcoming that:

Dressed in girl shorts and a nice shirt with make up on my face, I stood before a small crowed in a coffee shop in Nags Head, North Carolina. Granted 90% of the people there were to see me (I'm not kidding, my sister, and several friends showed up and rocked my world)...but I prepared to read when the mediator said, "Lynne, are you ready?". (Also--when he asked for my name, I said Lynne, and he asked "L-y-n-n?" and I said "L-y-n-n-E" and he was like "It's not like the spelling matters as long as I know who I'm calling, right?" And I thought about Kellie...and how sometimes spelling really does matter.... It was nice to know she was still with me tonight.)

Before I read one of my pieces, I showed the audience my paper, which looked something like this:

Those scribbles? Those notes saying Breathe or Look Up are tricks that I learned from my high school communications teacher. She pushed me to read slowly (though I hear I was still a bit fast tonight, I'll work on it!), to look at my audience, and to just breathe. Though my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, and my face got wicked red, I read what I wrote, mostly about my life.



And then was asked to read more.

When I read and looked at the crowd (a few times), I caught eyes with people...they were actually listening to me. Like, really. It was amazing and I felt high. 


I ended up reading a total of three poems (Smoke and Mirrors, Revolutions, Hands) and three short stories (Airplanes..which actually made a couple of people in the audience cry, which was AWESOME, especially because they'd read these pieces before, Sleeping Arrangements, and Good Girls and Bad Guys).


When all was said and done, I was approached by the mediator who gave me his card and told me that he'd love to have me for the next Open Mic, and that he really, really liked my writing. He also told me some information for Dare County Arts Council (like when they meet and stuff, and how they have critique groups! Yay!). So...after this, I was beaming and then approached by another man.


He, too, was a reader, and there were a couple of his poems that I really liked, and he told me that I did really, really well, and said that I came across very confident (funny, because I was scared shitless).  He said that my pacing was good, and that I didn't stumble over my words! Yay!


Moral of this very long story is...I'm pushing myself, every day to be a better writer.

But being a writer, isn't just writing. It's speaking, it's going out there and making yourself known, even if you start off in a small coffee shop that you work nearly 40 hours a week at. It's being brave when you'd rather go home and take a nap, or find it hard to catch your breath. It's writing words like Breathe and Look Up on your papers, because every step you take will push you in the right direction.


On a side note, the saddest thing about tonight is that a few select people weren't able to make it. The biggest one being my little man, Baxter:

I think when I get published, I'm going to try to find a place that is pet friendly so he can come with me. :)