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Inspiration: People Watching

people

Do you find yourself, in moments of boredom, watching the people around you with different eyes—with focus? What I mean by that is, say you find yourself at the mall or a restaurant or in a doctor’s waiting room—anywhere public—and you just cannot help but watch the people walking by.

I’ve always been a people-watcher, but when I was a young teen and became interested in theater I read books about learning characterization. The best book I found was called “Acting is Believing” by Charles McGaw. In reading his book, I learned the principles of the Stanislavsky method, and if you want to become a better performer, I heartily recommend it.

However, this essay is not about acting, but about inspiration. A writer often needs to access personalities, realistic personalities, to make their writing believable. In the same way an actor must learn about people, so must a writer. One technique is people watching. There is only so much information your own mind and book-reading can gather without learning more about others. And that is where people-watching comes in.

I don’t mean this in a stalkerish way, I mean simple observation. For instance, in theater, one might have to portray an street-scene - public domain image by Jon Sullivanaged person. At the mall, you may sit on a bench and watch an elderly person, the way they stand, the careful way they walk. Perhaps they use a cane. Perhaps they try to hide their weakness from their family, or they are angry because their life is empty or filled with pain and nobody understands. But just observation and a little imagination will put one inside the mind of that elderly person. Then, on stage, one can access that information and become that person convincingly.

Writing about people, the same process is necessary. One cannot convincingly write about an elderly person without taking their history into consideration, without knowing the person you are writing. Perhaps the person has arthritis. Perhaps they are missing their recently departed spouse. Perhaps they are losing their faculties. Figure out about when they might have been born, and examine what the world would have been like when they were growing up and went to work. One must be able to understand the background and feelings and motivations of the person one wants to portray or the character will be flat and one-dimensional. And each character must be different from every other character that is in the scene, the story, the book. One character’s reaction to a car accident, say, will be completely different from the other’s. One may focus on the financial loss, one on the emotional situation, one may focus on retaliation or become forever afraid of riding in cars. Each person needs their own personality and character, and without understanding others, there is no way to draw that from inside oneself.

jane-eyreThink about your favorite book. Chances are the characters are well-defined and strong and remain true to their backgrounds and experiences. In “Jane Eyre,” for example, Jane remains true to her own moral code, no matter the difficulties and no matter what crosses her. This is what makes the challenges that come along so compelling and what make her trials so emotive. She could have escaped all of the difficulties in the book by not being who she is, by pretending and playing along with others in authority over her, but she chooses to fight and struggle to remain true to her morals and that is what makes the story. Without that strong character, there would have been no story. Jane would have buckled under her aunt’s harshness, and become a meek, servile poor-relation in her aunt’s home like so many in her circumstances in that time period, and that would have been no story at all.

So when people watching, there is no such thing as wasted time. Every person out there is an individual with their own motivations and lives and that means there is an endless pool of characteristics and life to watch and learn from. A trip to a mall or park or even a bus ride, trip to a coffee shop, or simply standing on a street corner can be enriching and may provide just the spark you want for the character you are writing.

If you haven’t tried this technique before,  mindful people-watching is an excellent learning strategy to improve your writing. And, as an added bonus, all this people watching could make you a deeper, more sympathetic, understanding person as well.

(For more inspiration, see my first inspiration post on Dreams and Archetypes!)

Workplace Adversity, November PaD, day 28

Almost to the end of a solid month of poeming, I am tired and ready for it to be over. However, I also know from past experience that I will feel lost for a few days with no poems and I know I will miss it. ^_^

The prompt today was to write about workplace adversity, which I have done below.

Happiness in the Workplace
(Or: It’s not Always Where you Work)

At first, the hardest part
is learning everyone’s names.
And then, finding out how to
navigate your way around,
be you in an office or a forest;
becoming at home in your surroundings
is key.

Of course, things are always
much more difficult
when there are challenging people
that you must work with
or report to.

Kids in school think that having
a harsh, strict, or unkind teacher
is just not fair,
but in reality,
those types of people really do
help prepare one for
working with or even
simply dealing with
certain other people.
One must learn
to deal with that kind of challenge
eventually.

And in all honesty, challenging people
aren’t that difficult,
once one learns what motivates them.

My challenging boss only wants
things to be right, and so do I,
so we see eye-to-eye most days.
I had another boss in the past
who really only wanted to
mess with me and upset my world.

Of course, that is why he is in my past.

 

Collection – November PaD, day 26

Collect, or collection was the prompt – must rush – busy, busy at work!! I have made my try, may try some more later when I have more time!!  ^_^

 

Strange Collection

I keep collecting children,
friends of my children.
I like it when they call me mom
or even by my first name.

They used to come over
and hang out when my kids
were still at home,
and I would feed them
and try to keep out of the way
and chat when they wanted.

Sometimes I was the stage mom
who helped make costumes for plays.
Or the mom who would drive everyone home.
Or the mom who they could
ask difficult questions
and not be judged.

But now,
even though everyone
is all grown,
sometimes
they still come over
just to talk.

Opposite – November PaD day 25

Write from the opposite perspective” of one of your earlier poems this month. I chose to write the opposite perspective of my “How To” poem from day 17.

This is taken from actual experience, both as a child and as an adult, watching people managing their relationships. Some of these relationships were close to family members, so I got an eyeful on occasion. O_o

Venom

You’re fooling around, I know it!
You must be!!
So I’m gonna go through
everything you own,
just to find PROOF
of what I think is actually happening.

And if I do find that “proof,”
(A restaurant receipt? A hotel room?
A gift to someone I don’t know?)
then I’m gonna call
and harangue you
all day at work. I will
never let you go. Ever.
I will always be
shrill and angry.
You will always have to
hang up on me,
fueling my rage even further.

I might insist that you
buy me presents
or take me places
or quit your job
because there are too many
beautiful people that you might like
who I see as threatening.

I will never look inside myself
to find that something might
be wrong,
I will always blame you
and despise you
and drag you down
into this morass of
loathing
with me.

This is how I will
prove my love to you.
This is how I can keep you
forever, even though
I hate you.

The Truth About _____ – November PaD Day 24

I wrote two truth poems today – one about TV and the other about Black Friday, both topics having much to do with the past holiday.  ^_^

***

The Truth About TV

Yes, if you have a cable
or Dish package
(or even basic cable, to be honest),
there is always something
for everyone
at any time of the day or night.
TV has a huge
variety
of network and cable shows
and one could spend
twenty-four hours a day,
seven days a week,
finding something
they enjoy at least a little.

But the truth is,
it all depends on
who holds the remote.

***

The Truth About Black Friday

I have a theory
that all of those folks
who participate (willingly)

In Training

in the Black Friday
festivities
are actually quite aware
of what may or may not happen
regardless of the wide-eyed
expressions of horror
and dismay.

I believe they know
exactly
what they are getting into,
much like those who choose
to run with the bulls
at Pamplona,
and those who dive off cliffs
and race fast cars,
they know they might be
trampled,
bloodied,
bruised,
or may even be
arrested.

It’s all part of the sport.

Matches II

Another poem popped its head up when I was logging out…

 

Playing with Fire

My angry brother-in-law
once found a pile of
spent matches
at my parents’ home
when my sons and I
were house-sitting.

He raged until he discovered
the culprit,
my 16 year old son,
who, like all teens,
had a penchant for
playing with fire.

“This house,”
my brother-in-law raged
“could go up like a torch.”

My son and I exchanged
glances.

“What are you,” he bellowed,
“A kleptomaniac?”

Without laughing,
(one must give him credit
for keeping a straight face)
my son replied,
“I’m sorry, I must be.
I won’t steal any more matches
in the future.”

“Better not.”

“What would we do without you,”
I said, as I smoothly shuffled
my son out of the house
to thank him for not
lighting any more fires
under his uncle.

 

 

April 29, replay

I say “replay” because the prompt today, the penultimate day of the April poem-a-day challenge, was to write a poem based on a favorite line or image from a previous poem. I chose Just an Animal from last week, and chose the line: “Saving Both of Them.” Plus, I always love stories of salvation.

Madame Vigee-Lebrun and her Daughter, Jeanne-Lucie-Louise - 1789

Saving Both of Them

Something happened to
Betty’s daughter
when Betty was in prison.

(It was an 18 month stint for
moonshining during the
prohibition, was all.)

And while she was gone, her
little girl stayed
with relations
in Missouri while
Betty survived, somehow,
in Washington state prison.

When reunited at last,
Betty found her little girl
somewhat grown
and full of anger; an anger
that never left her
for the rest of her life.

Betty went on anyway,
trying her best
to love her girl,
but never again
reaching
her
heart.

But life goes on,
and girls grow into women
and Betty’s daughter,
at age 15,
presented her mother
with a granddaughter.

And then she left.

And Betty took that girl,
and loved her
and raised her as her own,
saving both of them.

***

(As a side note, a year later, my aunt was born, and raised with the first baby, my mother. The woman in the painting looks remarkably like my Great-Grandmother, Betty.)

April 9, Shady

Posted on

Today’s prompt was “shady,” and we are allowed to interpret it however we want. But I chose the obvious interpretation, shady, as in the shade of a certain apple tree that was my refuge when I was young.

###

Shade

Summer afternoon
I’m up in a tree
I am pretending
there’s no one but me.

No nosy sisters,
nor brothers so mean.
Just me and my book
and the light tempered green

The sun shifting softly
through wind-waving leaves.
Just me and Ali Baba
and his forty thieves.

Friend of a Friend

The prompt today was to write about or as the friend of a friend. I couldn’t help but think about Dorinda Conlon, my friend who passed away unexpectedly this autumn. Of course I thought of her, as I have adopted or friended on facebook, as many of her “people” as would accept me. And so I’ve written about why.

***

My Friend, Who Died

Her friends are mine now,
or so I’ve claimed them,
because any link
however slight,
makes me feel her again
in my life.

Her sisters are mine now,
whether they know it or not
because I miss her
and wish her sisters
the best too.

Her sons are mine now,
though they don’t even know
that I care, not really.
But I watch them
for her
and imagine what she would say,
probably something irreverent
and shocking,
and hilarious,
but real and caring too.

She won’t be here anymore,
my friend,
and I wonder if she
could have known
how much she meant
to me.
I hope she knows
now.

***

And the second one is about gossip. ^_^

***

And the Biddies Had a Field Day

Betty was my great-grandma
and she love to tell
about the church she used to go to.
The biddies there (she called them that!)
would peck and scratch
at other ladies,
gossiping, and,
heavens knew,
just making stuff up
out of whole cloth.

One day a new woman,
Doris,
arrived at church
and the biddies were having
a field day.

Betty stood listening
for quite a while
to their poison.
And then she grabbed two of the
veriest biddies by the elbows
and, marching them over
to Doris, unabashedly said,
“Well, let’s find out,
then, if what you say
is true.”

And of course, Doris was
horrified
and gratified
and amused.

She and Betty became
the closest of friends.
But of course,
they never went back.

And the biddies had
a field day.

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