Hidden treasure of a book discovered…

One Good Thing…

It’s time for the weekly  post of a feature I’ve chosen to title “One Good Thing.” Each weekend, I’ll post something about what has been good to—or for—me during the week.

I haven’t written about things I’ve read lately, so that will be the subject of this weekend’s One Good Thing, since this past week found me finishing a very good “old” book that I discovered by chance in a local second-hand store.

Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson has been around for a while. Published in 1994, it is a story set on San Piedro, a rather secluded island in Puget Sound. Its main industries are fishing and raising strawberries and various other fruits, and the residents pretty much keep to themselves.

The story is set during a powerful snowstorm in the winter of 1954, where Kabuo Miyamoto, a Japanese-American fisherman, is on trial for the murder of his childhood friend Carl Heine. Carl was found dead and tangled in his own net after a foggy night on the water, and the likely culprit is Kabul.

Exactly why he is the major suspect is developed as the story moves along.

Ishmael Chambers, editor of the local paper and childhood sweetheart of Kabuo’s wife, Hatsue, is in the courtroom to cover the proceedings. And it is through his eyes and point of view that we learn the “backstory” leading up to the current situation.

Through a series of flashbacks, which Guterson handles with skill, keeping the reader wondering what the next twist or turn in the story will involve, editor Chambers takes us back to his seemingly lovely island childhood where he and Hatsue discovered first love.

Unfortunately, after the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, Ishmael’s and Hatsue’s youthful emotions and budding feelings for each other are lost when she and her family are banished to a Japanese internment camp.

Hurt and bitter with the loss of Hatsue, Ishmael found himself in the service and sent to the Pacific theater, where he ended up losing an arm in the battle of Tarawa, merely adding to the major losses in his life.

The book is a good one, clearly showing the kinds of prejudice that were prevalent at the time. With Guterson’s clear prose and description of a heartbreaking tale in a lonely place, I can see why Snow Falling on Cedars received several awards.

I’m not sure how I never found this book a long time ago or saw the film adaptation of it, but I’m glad I found it tucked away on a shelf in that second-hand store. It cost me fifty cents, and that was quite a steal for the quality of the writing and overall story which I thoroughly enjoyed.

I’ve decided that it’s a pretty good idea to check those shelves in those old stores. One never knows what hidden treasures are waiting to be discovered!

Until next time, that’s one good thing!

Ten minutes for my thoughts…

Today, write about anything — but you must write for exactly ten minutes, no more, no less.

OK, to get this new week off and running, I’m going to kick-start my writing by following the prompt above. It’s something I haven’t done in quite some time, and I feel the need to try it on this gray and still-wintry April morning.

Monday sunrise  from our deck, kicking off another busy week ahead.

The weekend, as usual, flew right on by, but it was still one that kept me busy. Following Friday’s visit to the doctor for a follow-up after my recent echo test, I relaxed and proceeded to get on with feeling OK about things—at least for now.

I find it very hard to focus or accomplish much writing when I have “stuff” on my mind—“stuff” such as doctor appointments! But, in the end, those kinds of worries never seem to turn out as bad as my mind led me to believe they would. Perhaps I need a shrink instead of a cardiologist!

Saturday morning was our men’s book club. We discussed a very interesting one titled How We Got to Now by Stephen Johnson. It was a rather easy one to read, as I managed to do so all within three days.

I particularly enjoyed the overall premise that when something is invented or devised, other things—totally unrelated—spring forth. For example, the Gutenberg Bible/printing press creating a need for glass and, eventually, reading glasses. It’s something the author described as “The Hummingbird Effect.”

Sunday was church and then a trip back to our former town for another book club, this time our friends’ couples group. The book there was H is for Hawk by Helen MacDonald, and though we all read it, there wasn’t much enthusiasm for it.

What’s in store for this week?

Not looking very springlike off our back deck!

Plans for the next phases of yard work—removing the chicken wire and stakes from around the bushes, mowing, bringing up the deck furniture from the basement, edging and trimming, etc., are all on “hold” for the time being.

That is, at least until the weather warms up enough for us to be outside without heavy coats and mukluks. (Just kidding about the mukluks!)

This Thursday is our grandsons’ school Open House for Grandparents, so I’ll make my annal visit to their school and enjoy seeing their classrooms and meeting their teachers. It’s always fun to see them in another setting other than familiar hearth and home.

Our 4th grade grandson

Friday morning will find me leaving very early for Ohio for a quick visit to my mom’s and  my sister and her husband’s. I’ll be back sometime Sunday afternoon.

Our 2nd grade grandson

As the week wears on, I won’t have much time to keep up with my many blogging friends nor reply to their wonderful posts.

But I’ll do as much as time will permit, since I’ve decided that my writing time needs to be devoted to Sandbar’s Secret.

Right now, my ten minutes are up. This little exercise was good, and it’s amazing what one can write in ten minutes.

Have a good week, all!

 

 

My foray into flash fiction, oh my!

My blogging friend Luanne over at Writer Site posted about a free online program that generates writing prompts for flash fiction. It’s called The Story Shack Writing Prompt Generator.

Curious, I checked it out and found it to be pretty cool. And the fact that it’s free doesn’t hurt, either!

How it works

When one presses the “Generate” button, five things pop up: Genre, Character, Material, a Sentence to Use, and Word Count.

Like Luanne, I like some basic “constraints” on getting my writing started, and this appears to be the perfect tool for doing just that.

Yes! I thought I would like to tackle this head on for my first blast into flash fiction.

I tried it out, and the first one that popped up was as follows: Romance, Fat Baker, A Painting, “He can change” & 600 words.

What follows is my first effort into flash fiction and using Story Shack Writing Prompt Generator’s criteria. It was fun, and I plan to hit that “Generator” button frequently each week.

What kinds of “constraints” (if any) do you prefer when beginning a writing project? If you try Story Shack, let me know your opinion of it. Happy writing, all!

The Baker’s Tale

 He was slowly steering a tall cart of pastries on their way to the glass showcase in the front of the bakery when he saw her after so many years. He was overcome with a sort of panic. God, what if she recognized him?

Sweating, something he did frequently, he stopped. Was it nerves? Morbid obesity? A combination of both? All he knew was that the pastry cart wasn’t tall or wide enough to shield him from her view as she waited nonchalantly, browsing the baked items.

Cringing behind the aluminum cart, he recalled how they’d once loved and shared and just how lovely she was—her smile, especially—and never an unkind word toward anyone—especially to him!

Life had been good, dreaming young dreams and promising young promises. He, the debonaire and handsome guy in her life, had dropped out of college to pursue his love of painting. But a severe lack of confidence in his own efforts had been the great barrier.

The manager was busily serving customers and would soon spot him in the middle of the place, like a stranded shipwreck victim, clinging desperately to the last bit of flotsam. He had to do something.

He’d tried like hell to be the person she’d first thought him to be—the one she’d fallen in love with one rainy summer weekend at an old cottage in Michigan, where he’d gone to paint rustic scenes in watercolors.

She’d loved his first creation at once, even wanted to buy it from him. But he didn’t feel it was very good at all.

Trying to hide now, sweat stinging his eyes, he mentally kicked himself. If she hadn’t been so nice to me and hooked me right off, I wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

He glanced her way again and saw that she was blithely scoping out the peach coffee cake, another of his creations he’d finished baking less than an hour before. Great!

Worse, he still didn’t know how to proceed without causing an obvious scene. He’d been hiding behind his cart much too long, and he had to get the baked goods to the front as the bakery was filling with hungry, early-morning customers.

Having no other option, he heaved himself up from his bent over posture and felt his heart nearly jump out of his thick chest. The exertion was killing him, he knew, but he had to move forward, unload the baked items onto the empty shelves, and get back to his baking. 

If only she’d pick something and leave! He knew that wouldn’t happen before it was too late. Karma is about to rear its ugly head. He sighed, resigned to his fate, and resumed his cart-pushing directly toward where she was standing, his heart hammering wildly. A 350-pound person isn’t designed for this sort of thing!

Just then, her number was called and she pleasantly asked for two cherry-filled crescent rolls. A quick exchange of money for the white bakery bag the manager handed across the showcase, and she smiled that smile. He saw this and felt like running to her (as if he could!) and taking her in his arms again.

But he didn’t. He watched her step out onto the busy sidewalk, carrying her white bag of crescent rolls, and disappearing from his life all over again.

He then remembered what she’d told a friend once who wondered what she saw in him: “Not much, but he can change.”

But he really hadn’t.