Readers, have you ever read an action scene and it made you feel dizzy?
You are not alone.
This happens when the writer wants to put every single detail of the scene inot the scene, on the page, and in your mind. This is a really kind want of a writer, but the thing is that it doesn’t really work.
Writers, I’m talking to you now. Take off your reader hat and just put on your writer hat while I tell you this: You do not want to make your readers swoony in a bad way.
When you tell us every single characters’ actions, thoughts, emotions, and placement in an action scene, it overwhelms us. So, what you want to do is pick and choose here.
You want to pick and choose:
1. The characters that have the most at stake emotionally and physically.
2. The characters that the reader is the most attached to.
The best way to deal with this is to usually try to stay super close to your protagonist during the action scene. Make sure that you are writing the scene from the viewpoint of that characters. If your puppy main character is watching a Star Wars style space battle, you want to make sure you tell it from that puppy’s point of view.
Our jobs as writers is to pick and choose the details that matter and then trust the reader to recreate that scene in their brains. We don’t want to distract them with the color of the puppy’s collar unless that matters.
If we do the opposite, if we show the reader every little action that happens, then we risk boring the hell out of them, but also we don’t give them to focus on.
Spoiler: You want them to focus on your protagonist and then maybe the antagonist. You want them to focus on the stakes, what your hero wants, and what’s standing in her way.
Think of it like this: You are a movie director. The page is your camera. You want to put the things in focus that matter.
That’s all a direct quote. What I love about it is that it talks about the most important part.
You don’t want a sword fight in there just for the sake of a sword fight. That sword fight or the hamster zombie troop running down the street after you needs to be there for a purpose.
Once you have that purpose, pick the details.
I think I’ll probably talk more about this next time, too. I hope you’re doing well and safe. It’s snowing madly here right now. And poor Shaun’s just had his third cancer (in less than a year) scraped out of his hand. He’s had three types of skin cancer in one year. This is the kind of overachieving we don’t want. 🙂
I’m posting writing tips and things about how we’re trying to live better lives over here if you want to check it out. My regular website is here. No pressure though, obviously. Thanks for reading this! And happy writing.
Share this if you want and also because it would be super nice of you!
I have a grocery list that is miles long because of the holidays.
Seriously, it’s so long. And I go to the grocery store.
Then I realize it. I have to get a grocery cart. I HATE grocery carts. No offense to you if you are reading this and you are, in fact, a grocery cart.
Why? Why do I hate them? Well, because you have to drive them. This is bad because:
1. I’m not a good driver. 2. There’s no horn on the grocery cart and sometimes you really REALLY need a horn like when the woman with the kid singing Dora the Explorer songs blocks THE ENTIRE PRODUCE AISLE because she’s parked her ginormous grocery cart sideways. SIDEWAYS!!! What is she thinking? 3. I can’t steer. 4. I really can’t steer grocery carts when one of the four dinky wheels goes all tar-rat-rat-rah-rat because it’s off balance. 5. I tend to knock things over. 6. I’m a floater not a driver. 7. Did I mention I’m not a good driver?
So, I buy MASSIVE amounts of food and go absolutely in debt for the rest of my life.
Side note: Why do crackers cost $5.99?
Side note #2: And I haven’t bought sliced meat for a long, long time because I am anti-sliced meat. NO OFFENSE TO YOU IF YOU ARE READING THIS AND YOU ARE A PIECE OF SALAMI. I bought it to wrap asparagus in and it costs like a MILLION TRILLION dollars.
But then, when I’m just standing there in the really long line someone bumps into me WITH THEIR GROCERY CART.
I swear if those things ever go AI, I’m going to be dead within the first week.
My little, creepy book baby is out in the world because who doesn’t want sad, quirky, horror with some romantic bits for the holiday season?
So, I have survived Christmas 1 and 2 in the house, and it was basically super cool amazing and I should really post about it, but instead I am going to post about holiday traditions.
So here it goes…
TRADITION NUMBER ONE:
First we get a tree. See earlier post by my dog, Tala, to understand this process. Then we put up tree. It is a crooked kind of perfect and it somehow manages to stay up.
TRADITION NUMBER TWO:
In this tree we put elves. These elves are secret Santa spies. They move around. They report back about the whole naughty/nice thing.
The Emster (my daughter)? She hates these elves.
She wants the elves to die.
Emster’s ELF DEATH WISH is why we put them high in the tree.
They wisely stay high when they move around. The Emster is a formidable opponent. Elf Number Two does not understand this. Check out his fighting pose.
TRADITION NUMBER THREE:
For some strange reason we have a swaying snow couple that sings the whole controversial BABY IT’S COLD OUTSIDE song.
Did you know Rod Stewart and Dolly Parton have a version of this song?
And as much as I love Rod Stewart and Dolly Parton and respect them for the zombie people that they are, I can’t stand this song any more because … okay, are you ready?…. because it makes me think of Dolly Parton and Rod Stewart FORNICATING!!!
And, well, the final aspect of this tradition is that Mr. Snowman always seems to end up in a position where he seems to be feeling up Mrs. Snowman. This seems wrong.
I know snow people need a little joy in their lives, but look at the smiles on their faces. Do they not seem like they are getting a little too much pleasure out of the situation.
And here’s a hint snow couple: WE ALL CAN SEE YOU!!! I’m sure Rod and Dolly don’t do it in public. I mean there are not Parton/Stewart sex tapes are there?
Please, for the love of all things Twitter, let there not be any of those out there.
Tradition Number Four
An advent calendar. Nice and easy there, folks. I thought you might need a little break after the love fest.
Tradition Numbers 5, 6, Etc, because I’m getting tired.
We also chalk the initials of the three wise men above our front door.
We also burn a yule log we make.
We also hide a pickle on the tree. Find the pickle = get a present.
Jesus has a little parade and goes into the manger on Christmas Eve.
We sometimes open one present on Christmas Eve and it is a book.
We smash a peppermint pig when we remember to.
We have seven fishes at dinner the night before.
If there are any fortune cookies anywhere, we read the fortunes and add “IN BED” because that’s the way this family has always rolled.
Speaking of rolls, we have cinnamon rolls and fruit salad for Christmas Breakfast with Em and southern Christmas food for Christmas morning when Em’s at her dad’s.
Santa Mouse also always hides a yellow ribboned present on the tree. GO TEAM SANTA MOUSE!
And we always make a birthday cake for Jesus.
Yeah, it says, Grandma. But it’s kind of the same thing:
1.They both want what’s best for you.
2. They both tell a lot of stories about things that happened centuries ago.
3. They both think that THEY KNOW EVERYTHING, and if you’re a Christian, they kind of do. At least Jesus does. You’ve got to forgive Grandma for loving gross stuff like Moxie and saying that it’ll grow hairs on your chest though, because, quite frankly, she is old. And she does not ACTUALLY know everything, because she is grandma and not God.
4. They both say JESUS CHRIST a lot. Jesus does because it’s his name. Grandma does because… well, her dentures give her some trouble and Don Vicente Fernández died this year. But enough with the nice stuff… let’s move on to:
Tradition Number Too High For Me To Count
A love fest! We always put out the Playmobile Santa House.
Isn’t it cute?
Doesn’t the elf at the door look like he’s saying, C’mon inside. It’s warm. There are cookies. Hold on let me go get Santa and the Little Mrs.
And yet… And yet… This is what we ALWAYS find in there.
Seriously, why else do you think there’s so many darn elves?
You have to love tradition.
Do you have any cool traditions in your house for any holidays? Let me know if you have a chance!
Share this if you want and also because it would be super nice of you!
DO NOT SIGN UP WITH A LOCAL INTERNET PROVIDER WHO WILL ALLEGEDLY EMBEZZLE FUNDS FROM HIS EMPLOYEES’ 401K ACCOUNTS AND THEN DISCONNECT THE SERVICE, THE SERVER AND THE
AND THEN EVERYONE INCLUDING YOUR EDITORS AND YOUR AGENT AND YOUR MOTHER WILL TRY TO SEND YOU AN EMAIL
AND THEY WILL GET A MESSAGE THAT YOU DON’T EXIST.
No. Sorry. That’s not it. Although that is good important advice I wish someone had told me before it happened to me.
Below is my real advice and it’s not about computer fraud or even strictly about the craft of writing. Instead it’s about the mind state of being a writer.
Yes, the mind state.
Yes, that sounds hokey.
The thing is that sometimes writing is easy. The thing is that sometimes writing is not … easy.
These are the days of writers. People blog. They text. They NaNoWriMo.
You are probably one of those people. You know that it’s hard. I know that it is not easy for me to be one of those people, a writer in the days of writers and especially in these times of economic turmoil where people are getting laid off or fired and entire publishing houses are restructuring, trying to stay alive.
Let me tell you something about writers in these days of writers. Sometimes when we look at a page we see the world. Sometimes when we look at a page we see hope. Sometimes when we look at a page we see nothing at all.
But even on those horrible days — those self doubt/writer angst days — we approach the page anyway. We lurch towards it, hands bloodied, heart attacking our ribs. We lurch towards it because we want so badly to reach out to others; we want so badly to make story; we want so badly to be heard.
Writers matter. Stories matter. You matter.
It all matters despite the economy and the pandemic and the divisions or maybe even more so because of it.
It all matters despite the fact that the whole world can write and blog and text, or maybe even more so because of it.
So we lurch. So we bother. So we search our mirrors and our lives. So we search in hearts and in actions and we make stories.
No matter what: We make stories.
So go on. Read and study, think and play, feel the truths that form solidify hard in the gut and in the throat. Write your stories, blogs, texts, and poems and don’t worry if it’s Proust or gobbley gook or even if it will get published.
That’s my secret advice: Just write.
You owe it to the world and the world owes it to you.
My little, creepy book baby is out in the world because who doesn’t want sad, quirky, horror with some romantic bits for the holiday season?
Those thoughts become so big and so distorted that we get anxious.
I am a pro at doomsday thinking
I basically had these kinds of thoughts until last year.
Those negative, spiraling thoughts can become so big, so huge, that it’s almost impossible to be happy about who we are, what we’ve done, what we will do, or our life.
We forget there can be good outcomes too.
Instead, we think about all the bad potentials and build them up like super stores, giving them so much space in our thoughts that they take over.
The why is it always me syndrome.
One of my most brilliant and adorable relatives does this all the time. She gets stuck on a highway coming home from work because of a traffic jam and thinks, “Why does this always happen to me? The universe hates me.”
When in reality, she’s not alone in that traffic jam, right? It’s almost self-absorbed to think that the frustrating things are out to get you and only you.
Or, we get rejected when we send our book to an agent and think, “This is impossible. I will never get published. I am doomed to suck forever. I give up.”
When in reality, you don’t suck at all. Writing is subjective and that particular agent just wasn’t for you.
In doomsday thinking whenever something bad happens, we assume that this is the way it will always be. It isn’t.
The world is chaos and full of change.
I just was texting with one of my friends the other night and I wrote, “I bet Five-years-ago Steve would never have imagined this.”
The this was good stuff happening in his life. And he hadn’t. He hadn’t predicted any of it.
We’re all like that. I didn’t imagine I’d be where I am five years ago. That’s because change happens. Even the bad doesn’t stay always bad. We can’t predict the outcomes and all the variables even when we think we can.
Here’s the good thing about change
Since things change, it means that you don’t need to stay stuck forever. And you don’t need to stay in those negative thought patterns forever either.
Why not? It’s pretty easy to lean into your internal critic, right? But you don’t have to. You can stay calm. You can take chances and make choices and shut them up.
We all have inner critics, but we also need inner cheerleaders
I used to imagine my inner critic as John Wayne (the dead movie star/cowboy). He was so harsh on me. Always telling me to work. So, I created an inner cheerleader who turned out to be the Muppet, Grover. Yes, from Sesame Street. My brain is a weird place.
John Wayne and Grover would duel it out for supremacy in my head.
Weird! Weird! I know. But by giving an identity to that negative voice/inner critic, it helped me to recognize that doomsday thinking and shut it down so that I could take chances and risks and do things.
Allow yourself to treat challenges and projects like you’re playing
Another thing that helps is giving myself a chance to play and fail. You can do this, too.
Find something you’ve wanted to do. Start a blog? Make a video? Learn to paint? Ride your bike every morning? Make it something that excites you.
Here’s how it works:
Give yourself a time frame. I have 30 days to do this! That sort of short timeframe.
Schedule time into your day/week to do it.
It helps if you have an end project. So, tell yourself what your end product will be.
By giving ourselves a product and a timeframe, we give ourselves a chance to try things. It doesn’t seem like a forever-worry that way and it usually shuts up our doomsday thinking and John Waynes a tiny bit.
You’ve got this. I believe in you. You need to believe in you, too.
BE A PART OF OUR MISSION!
Hey! We’re all about inspiring each other to be weird, to be ourselves and to be brave and we’re starting to collect stories about each other’s bravery. Those brave moments can be HUGE or small, but we want you to share them with us so we can share them with the world. You can be anonymous if you aren’t brave enough to use your name. It’s totally chill.
Want to be part of the team? Send us a quick (or long) email and we’ll read it here and on our YouTube channel.
LET’S HANG OUT!
HEY! DO YOU WANT TO SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER?
MAYBE TAKE A COURSE, CHILL ON SOCIAL MEDIA, BUY ART OR A BOOK, OR LISTEN TO OUR PODCAST?
I have been tagged a couple times now so here goes:
Rules: Answer the questions, add one of your own if you want, then tag five of your friends. (I am skipping that part because I hate tagging. You can tag yourself and say I tagged you if you want).
1. How old were you when the craft of writing called you to perform?
I wouldn’t say I was ever ‘called’ because that makes me think of being a priest and the thought of me being a priest is just so scary that I can’t handle it.
Although, it would be fun to wear the collar and maybe guest star in Evil.
The first thing I remember writing is a haiku in second grade for Mrs. Joyce Snearson. Her son now writes for Entertainment Weekly.
My haiku was posted on the wall because:
1. I understood what syllables were. 2. I wrote in just one sentence like she asked. 3. It did not involve Tonka trucks, Barbies or hunting.
I thought writing might be okay if you always got praise like that.
My haiku (for the record)
Spring is fun you see Because flowers grow with rain and robins come home.
My next big writing excursion was a Star Trek story for my brother. It did not go so well.
2. What’s your favorite writing outfit?
If I am dressed, I consider it a miracle.
3. What computer program do you use for your writing?
4. What’s the name of your most difficult character to write?
You know the random guy in the restaurant? The one who doesn’t do anything? He’s just background noise. And then sometimes he’s in the hall at the high school, or maybe at the gas station while stuff is going on?
5. When is your favorite time of day to write?
When I am fully awake. This sometimes never happens.
6. What’s your favorite genre?
Oh, I am a genre lover and I’ll do anything with a genre. Wait, you don’t even have to pay me, so that means……
I’m just easy.
7. What writers have inspired you the most in your career and why?
My teachers at Vermont College: TIm Wynne-Jones, Sharon Darrow, Kathi Appelt and Rita Williams-Garcia because they are:
1. Awesome writers 2. Pretty fine dancers 3. Unafraid to give generously to others 4. Cute
8. Do you think you’re smarter than a fifth grader?
I think that depends on the fifth grader, but in general – no.
9. What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re stuck on a scene?
Walk the dogs outside and call it exercise when it’s really just standing around watching them smell things, pee on things and smell things again. All of that tugging on leashes makes me get back into that writer flow.
10. If you could give one piece of advice to your fellow writers, what would it be?
Fine. I won’t be snarky. Um….
Write the way you want to write. Write about what you want to write. Write like you, not like John Green or E. Lockhart or Angie Thomas or Miguel Syjuco or M.T. Anderson or Rita Williams Garcia or Jason Reynolds. Write like you.
CARRIE’S TEACHABLE CLASS!
I have a quick, pre-recorded Teachable class designed to make you a killer scene writer in just one day. It’s fun. It’s fast. And you get to become a better writer for just $25, which is an amazing deal.
HEAR MY BOOK BABY (AND MORE) ON PATREON
On one of my Patreon sites I read and print chapters of unpublished YA novels. THE LAST GODS and SAINT and now ALMOST DEAD. This is a monthly membership site (Hear the book chapters – $1/month, read them $3-month, plus goodies!). Sometimes I send people art! Art is fun.
On this, my second site, WRITE BETTER NOW, you can do a one-time purchase of a writing class or get two of my books in eBook form or just support our podcast or the dogs. It’s all part of the WRITING CLASS OF AWESOME.
It’s a super fun place to hang out, learn, read, and see my weirdness in its true form.
So, I am terrible at promoting myself because apparently I am an introvert. I know! I know! I don’t present that way at all, but I am a person who cringes when the phone rings.
But I am going to be brave and try because I love this story so much. Why? Because it’s about hope and faith even when things are impossible.
I HAVE A NEW NOVELLA!
But I have a book coming out October 1. It’s just an ebook because it’s small. It’s incredibly different from all the other books and stories that I’ve published, but I hope you’ll take a chance on it anyways because I love it terribly much.
It will be .99 on pre-order and 2.99 once it’s live.
And did I say I love it very much?
HOW YOU CAN HELP ME.
You can spend .99 cents and make Amazon think, “Wow! People are buying Carrie’s book.”
That will basically give me .35 cents. I can buy a stamp with that! So, that means when I send everyone holiday cards, you’re helping! Oh! You’re helping me and the post office.
You can write a review on Amazon after you read it. This actually really helps authors a lot. So much. Insert begging voice, “Please buy my book and review it.”
WHAT IT’S ABOUT
The soul-wrenching story starts here….
Becca’s young life is about to change when she meets a boy in the playground, a boy who seems too magical to be real. Barely, surviving at home, Becca’s new friend quickly teaches her what it means to have hope and faith.
A compelling novella that’s sure to resonate and leave a lasting impression.
HOW I AM BEING BRAVE
This story won a few awards a long time ago, but it’s too short for traditional publishing really and it’s so different than what my readers expect from me that it feels…? Scary. It feels scary.
It’s hard to write something radically different sometimes.
And it’s also the story that helps me through my own grief, which is a deeply personal thing. So, maybe the reason I’m so scared is because it just feels so incredibly personal? Who know.
But I hope you’ll take a chance on it, check it out, and like it. And if you don’t like it? I hope you’ll still like me after you read it anyways.
HOW ABOUT YOU?
How are you doing this Friday? Are you being brave? Scared? Is there something you’d like me to cheer you on about? Just let me know!
Share this if you want and also because it would be super nice of you!
It’s the last of the anxiety posts and … um… I might be feeling anxious about that.
Last Monday, I posted part one of this two-part (now three-part) post which is all because one of my writing students asked:
“Seems like a lot of us writers struggle with anxiety and low self-esteem. All I can do, apparently, is grind out a page here and there during my more lucid moments. I don’t suppose you’ve got the magic key to overcoming emotional struggles so that the writing gets done?”
Writer who I’m not going to out here because that would be horrible
I have my own way of dealing with this, but my way? It’s not everyone’s way and it’s not that writer’s way so I looked to my Facebook friends for help.
A lot of people were super kind and gave recommendations. I’m going to share some of more of them.
Start With A Word
What I do is I take a single word, whether it’s an emotion, a description, or anything else, just the first word that comes to mind. Then I build on it. I describe the word. Find synonyms, antonyms, I write what I think that word looks like as an image. Sometimes, I might even attempt to draw it (but I don’t draw well so I usually just laugh at myself for that one). Then I’ll write associations to that word. What does it remind me of? Who does it make me think of? When did I experience it last?
Then, if I’m still feeling blocked or stuck after this, I’ll do it with another word. And another word. There have been days where I literally only write about words like this.
Allyna Rae Storms
Make It Work for you
I put my anxiety into my work. Writing or creating (painting or making jewelry) I use my extra emotions in my work. I write my fears into my characters, or I let it out into my art work. Some of my best pieces have been created when I have been frustrated, angry, or upset. Music also helps some times.
It’s not about you, the writer. Look beyond yourself and just tell the story.
The Five Minute Rule
I give my students and myself smaller assignments. Write for Five minutes. Revise one page. Then we celebrate these small accomplishments.
Don’t Let Your Head Kick Your Ass
I got this way a few times when I wrote the first draft of a short novel not too long ago. When the head kicked my ass a bit too much and my focus went to zero, that’s when I did an outline and wrote up a big picture idea of what would be happening next in my story. Then when I felt more focused, I was able to see the trees in the forest and was able to go back and flesh out my outline. This took all the pressure off me of having to think of the details and just have fun with the overall story ideas. I’m pretty certain that without this approach, that novel would never have gotten finished and I’d still be staring at blank pages.
I think acceptance helps a lot with all of this. “I’m feeling anxious today. I’m going to try to write for half an hour anyway.” “I think everything I write is crap. It probably is, but I’m going to keep working on this chapter anyway.” Half an hour here, half an hour there, they add up. I use my timer a lot. “I just have to do this for half an hour and then I can be done.” Whether it’s paying bills, sweeping floors, sorting through old clothes–that method helps me get stuff done. It’s a simple method but it does the trick.
Medical cannabis is the answer for me. Helps with the anxiety and to fall asleep at night.
Helping other writers is one of my favorite things ever actually. Here’s a testimonial if you’re feeling too lazy to click over.
I was in the Write. Submit. Support class from The Writing Barn that was led by Carrie, and it was exactly what I needed.
I’ve worked with a lot of different writing teachers and mentors in college classes, my MFA program, a playwriting apprenticeship, and various workshops and residencies, and Carrie was by far one of the best.
Her feedback on my writing was extremely helpful but also encouraging and uplifting. She gave us a lot of thought-provoking and beneficial information in the monthly classes that helped me to see my writing from a different perspective.
Every month, after our classes or after I received notes from her, I was inspired not only to write and improve my craft but to create in general–to write fiction, to write songs, to write plays, and to write content that would help other creative people and artists.
I also love how supportive Carrie is. She takes the time to really listen to you, encourage you, and support you, no matter where you are in your writing career or what your goals are. I also appreciate that she understands that everyone’s publishing path is different, and I was so grateful that I could turn to her for advice and support as I had to make some difficult decisions about my own career.
For anyone looking for a writing mentor/teacher/coach, I can’t recommend Carrie enough.
Dogs are Smarter Than People
This podcast is all about trying to live a happy, better life and being happier, better people and how you can use those skills in writing and vice versa. But we’re not perfect, just like our podcast. We’re cool with that. And even though 107,844 (Not that we’re counting) people have downloaded it, we still feel like newbies because we are.
You can like, listen, subscribe, share. It’s all good. You can find us here and all these places:
Bar Harbor Story isn’t a newspaper, but it’s not fiction. It’s about the story of Bar Harbor and MDI, its people, its players, even its introverts. It’s about a different way of telling our story that doesn’t worry about advertisers, subscriber rates, press awards for being normal or making ourselves more money.
It’s with Steve Wedel. It’s scary and one of Publisher’s Weekly’s Buzz Books for Summer 2019. There’s an excerpt of it there and everything! But even cooler (for me) they’ve deemed it buzz worthy! Buzz worthy seems like an awesome thing to be deemed!
You can order this bad boy, which might make it have a sequel. The sequel would be amazing. Believe me, I know. It features caves and monsters and love. Because doesn’t every story?
You can get exclusive content, early podcasts, videos, art and listen (or read) never-to-be-officially published writings of Carrie on her Patreon. Levels go from $1 to $100 (That one includes writing coaching and editing for you wealthy peeps).
A lot of you might be new to Patreon and not get how it works. That’s totally cool. New things can be scary, but there’s a cool primer HERE that explains how it works. The short of it is this: You give Patreon your paypal or credit card # and they charge you whatever you level you choose at the end of each month. That money supports me sharing my writing and art and podcasts and weirdness with you.
I am still the public image coordinator for part of the United States and Eastern Canada for Rotary International. This is a volunteer gig for the 1.2-million strong global organization that’s all about people coming together, taking action, creating ideas to make their local community and global community a better place. You should check it out.
I’ve decided to spend the next few days or so reposting blogs from my past because what better way to celebrate a new year (insert sarcasm here) and this one is about what it was like to run for office.
A lot of you know that I was once a city councilor and then I had a failing bid for the Maine State House of Representatives.
I was a horrible politician. I felt intrusive knocking on doors. I was not efficient when listening to people’s stories. I’d stay too long and not get to other doors.
The other party said I was too soft to deal with the mean realities of politics. (Not the other candidate. His party) and so on.
So, in my effort to spread a little enlightenment on what it is to be me, Carrie, when I was a failed politician in a state race I bring you this….
As those of you who read CARRIE AND THE CAMPAIGN PENIS and CARRIE AND THE CAMPAIGN PSYCHO might remember, part of being a candidate for political office involves knocking on doors.
A couple weeks ago, Joe Pat (we gave him a hillbilly name because his dad is a doctor) is driving me around in his old Saab. The first house we go to is a modifed trailer, slightly off this dirt road called Pioneer Farm Way.
I go up to the door. I knock. A roundish kind of guy opens the door. I say who I am.
He’s all, “Hey… Cool. I don’t live here. I’m just Joe’s caretaker…I mean… dude… Caregiver.”
And I’m all, “Cool. Can you give this to him and tell him to call me if he — “
From this back hall comes a froggish voice, “Let her in.”
Caretaker/caregiver guy gets panic look. “Um…”
“Dude,” the phantom voice says, “Let her in.”
This guy who is soooooo tan that he’s like beef jerky rolls his wheelchair into the front part of the trailer. He’s only wearing tiny khaki shorts.
He winks at me and says, “Come on back.”
I follow him down this long, long hallway.
Everything starts smelling pretty interesting, but I’m not really registering it because there are all these sounds of people scurrying around. It’s like I’m in the Boogie Nights movie or something. There is fake wood paneling everywhere and that smell… That smell that I can’t quite place.
Half-naked guy wheels himself to the head of this big table. There’s a teen sitting there. Caretaker/giver sits down.
Half-naked khaki guy goes, “Sit down. You mind if I smoke?”
“Sure. It’s your house.” I look right in his eyes because he is half-naked and I am repressed and from New Hampshire. He smiles and picks up a cigarette. I realize it is not the regular kind of cigarette. It is pot. I look next to me and there is this gigantic box (like 3 x 3) full of special cigarettes. There’s got to be like 500 in there. Then I look on the other side of him and realize that the ginormous bag of plant matter is not cat nip. It is weed. I have never seen so much weed, not even when I was reporting on drug busts.
Half-naked guy inhales. He inhales a lot. He tells me that he has MS, so it’s legal for him to grow.
Half-naked guy adds, “I’m on disability and disability doesn’t pay much, you know.”
People scurry in back rooms. Someone giggles.
Half-naked guy says, “So, you know that it doesn’t pay enough to survive on. It’s legal for me to grow ’cause of the MS.”
I stare at his eyes. They are red, but happy.
Half-naked guy says, “I’ve got a lot of friends who stop by, you know. They stop by…”
Me (finally getting it), “OH!”
Half-naked guy smiles really big and says, “You can stop by if you want. You don’t have to partake but I can tell, you and me, we’re on the same wavelength you know.”
This is possibly true because I am one of those people that drunk and high people insist is drunk and high when I am in fact completely sober. My brain is just wired that way.
Half-naked guy then tells me a massive list of reporters, cops, teachers, etc, who come by and ‘visit’ him.
He tells me names!!!! People’s names! They could be summonsed or arrested or something (back then because it was totally illegal) and he tells me their names and I know all of them. All. Of. Them. If I was an evil politician, I could blackmail people. I am not an evil politician. This is possibly why I was so bad at being a politician, actually.
Anyways, it takes him a long, long time to say a sentence. All this time pot smell is sticking to my hair and clothes. The caretaker/giver guy and teen boy keep getting up and leaving and coming back. Half-naked man keeps smoking and rolling, smoking and rolling.
And me? I am suddenly getting the munchies and I have the urge to say, “Dude… Man… I just love you, dude. And your MS totally sucks, but man… I love you.”
I manage to resist the urge, but just barely.
So, my chaperone and keeper, Joe Pat realizes that I’ve been gone awhile and he comes in. They bring him back to me. Joe Pat looks like he is in Heaven. He can’t stop smiling.
Half-naked guy looks up at Joe Pat and says, “You want a toke?”
Joe Pat blushes and goes, “No. No, man. I’m good.”
I get ready to leave and half-naked pot man makes a fist for me. We touch fists. And he goes, I am dead serious, he goes, “Pot for Peace, Carrie. Pot for Peace.”
Joe Pat and I get back into his Saab and Joe Pat is grabbing the steering wheel, not really saying words but just sort of all manic energy before he finally says, “Holy sh–t! That was amazing. Did you see all that? I’ve never seen so much pot in my life. And I’m a drummer.”
I start cracking up. I can’t stop.
Joe Pat backs out of the driveway and says, “You have a contact high, Carrie, don’t you? Oh, crap. *Will is going to kill me. Do you still want to do doors?”
I hold out my hair. “Does my hair smell?”
He sniffs in. “Hell yeah.”
I nod, think (which takes a long time) and say, “Yeah, I better do doors. I’ll just tell people I went to a pot house.”
So that’s what I do. Overall, it was one of the most mellow doors night I’ve had, but no, I wasn’t very efficient and possibly talked way too much about the pot house, healthcare, and why my hair smelled.
Yes. Another reason why I didn’t win.
*Will was my campaign manager.
Be a Part of the Podcast!
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No question is too wild. But just like Shaun does, try not to swear, okay?
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Blog Break – Sort Of
It’s a big holiday week here and so Carrie is going to be taking a bit of a blog break for the next two weeks. There will be a new podcast next Tuesday, but other than that? It’s a little time for Carrie’s brain to recharge and rest. So, she’ll be posting random blogs from her past. Thank you for understanding!
People call it a cross between Harry Potter and Percy Jackson but it’s set in Maine. It’s full of adventure, quirkiness and heart.
The Spy Who Played Baseball is a picture book biography about Moe Berg. And… there’s a movie out now about Moe Berg, a major league baseball player who became a spy. How cool is that?
It’s awesome and quirky and fun.
FLYING AND ENHANCED
Men in Black meet Buffy the Vampire Slayer? You know it. You can buy them hereor anywhere.
OUR PODCAST – DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE.
Thanks to all of you who keep listening to our weirdness as we talk about random thoughts, writing advice and life tips. We’re sorry we laugh so much… sort of. Please share it and subscribe if you can. Please rate and like us if you are feeling kind, because it matters somehow. There’s a new episode every Tuesday!
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