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Author Topic: Snippets, memories  (Read 34300 times)
Koen
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« Reply #80 on: 13 October 2009, 18:26:54 »
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Rattler,  I have started a book,  but like most things,  I never got very far,  only to the age of 8.  I will continue it on of these days.


same here...I started 2 or 3 during my lifetime but never ended one of them....


Writing a book is one of the toughest things I've ever done. Coming back and editing it is tougher though. I have finished one and have just started work on a second with a third to be done if the other two do well.

I know a few well known authors personally and quite a few not so well known ones....  hdbng

Good Hunting.

MR


it's certainly difficult when you want it to be autobiographical....never will be able I think....but wait...I started once when I was in hospital writing something....in Dutch...so...no point in posting it here....
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Jilly
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« Reply #81 on: 13 October 2009, 19:56:35 »
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I find it's easier to write every now and then,  only thing is then there is no continuity, and my memories just end up like little windows here and there.  Oh well,  maybe I can put all the pieces together one day, and make a whole story out of them.
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Koen
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« Reply #82 on: 13 October 2009, 19:58:40 »
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I find it's easier to write every now and then,  only thing is then there is no continuity, and my memories just end up like little windows here and there.  Oh well,  maybe I can put all the pieces together one day, and make a whole story out of them.


maybe for some people that's the only way to get somewhere....
I also have the problem that alot is...well...not so to be proud of...from another life...secrets also...
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Mad Russian
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« Reply #83 on: 13 October 2009, 21:36:19 »
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Everybody writes differently. I have no problem sitting down and writing. I've yet to have a writers block. My problem is the opposite. I can think of a dozen projects I would like to do. I need to finish what I've already started first. Not everybody is like that. I have a friend that writes so many hours a day. EVERYDAY. I don't do that. I could but it would seem too much like work and not a hobby or a fun project that way for me.

Good Hunting.

MR
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Koen
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« Reply #84 on: 13 October 2009, 21:42:04 »
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Everybody writes differently. I have no problem sitting down and writing. I've yet to have a writers block. My problem is the opposite. I can think of a dozen projects I would like to do. I need to finish what I've already started first. Not everybody is like that. I have a friend that writes so many hours a day. EVERYDAY. I don't do that. I could but it would seem too much like work and not a hobby or a fun project that way for me.

Good Hunting.

MR


indeed, what about the time....our time is so limited that I sometimes loose track on what I'm doing...WaT takes a large part of my freetime...I like it but sometimes it feels like the fun is gone...luckily that feeling doesn't stay too long...I stop posting and start reading other people's post etc...and I'm back in...same goes for CM...sometimes I need to take a distance...and re-enter with joy!

I always wondered how it would feel if I could make money out of something that is now a hobby...
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Mad Russian
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« Reply #85 on: 13 October 2009, 21:57:02 »
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I always wondered how it would feel if I could make money out of something that is now a hobby...


It would feel like a job. Been there and done that.....

Good Hunting.

MR
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« Reply #86 on: 16 November 2009, 01:17:02 »
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I hadn't felt like I had anything to add to this thread until the passing of my Godfather. So here it is, some of my fondest memories involve this man.

My 3 brothers and I had what we have learned, was a most fantastic Uncle experience as we grew up. Picture this...it's 2-5 o'clock in the morning, you are asleep in your bed when a familiar voice breaks the nights quiet. Usually it was a gentle roar, sometimes a hearty laugh, but both signaled that Uncle Donnie (mother's brother) aka Uncle King Kong was in the house (this was back when you didn't have to lock your doors). What happened next was sheer magic. He rousted all four of us up for a tickling and wrestling match full of laughter, squealing and roaring. He would toss us across the room from one bed to the other, Frequently all four of us would be hanging off him as he walked about winding us up like toys. The voices of joy and happiness would fill the house, inevitably waking Mom & Dad. Our first awareness of our parents presence would be the all to familiar, "Donnie it's X o'clock in the morning!" That would signal that the session was over for now, but there would always be next week.

I am proud to say that I have continued the tradition that this loving uncle taught me, for you see, I am this generations 'Uncle King Kong' and all my nieces and nephews know that the legacy of Uncle Donnie lives.
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« Reply #87 on: 16 November 2009, 23:17:56 »
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That's so nice to hear Facman.

It's so good when we, as kids, have such good role models to look up to.
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Rattler
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« Reply #88 on: 16 November 2009, 23:22:35 »
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...and it also demonstrates the true value of this thread initiated by you here.

Rattler
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« Reply #89 on: 16 November 2009, 23:25:43 »
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Well,  I mentioned earlier on in this thread that I start writing books that I never finish.  Well,  it looks like the one I am now writing I will see to the end.  I write everyday,  unless I have a particularly busy day.  I have over 140 (book) pages done, so it's around a quarter way through now.  It's a book about my childhood and at times, it has been very hard to write,  actually most of the time, it's hard to write,  but I'm determined to carry on with it.

It's too long to put on here,  but I can add some snippets here and there for those who may be interested, they won't be in any kind of order though, just so you know.

SNIPPET:

Mr. and Mrs.  Campbell were an elderly couple who lived directly next door to us.  Both were in their late seventies and both welcomed me into their home and by doing so showed me another side of life.  A side that allowed me to see how people who truly love each other are meant to treat each other,  their compassion, love and gentle ways  were extended and offered to me in a unselfish way.  During the many hard times that I would have to endure in the following years to come, they were a constant shelter for me,  a way for me to hide from the harsh realities of life and an excuse for me not to harden my heart and give way to hate, which would have been so easy to do.
 
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« Reply #90 on: 16 November 2009, 23:26:31 »
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...and it also demonstrates the true value of this thread initiated by you here.

Rattler


Thanks, Rattler.   Kus
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« Reply #91 on: 16 November 2009, 23:34:42 »
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SNIPPET:

Mr. Campbell was a tall, gentle man, of Scottish origin, whose favorite pass time was sitting in front of the big log fireplace, smoking a pipe.  This was second best only to his love of gardening, which he did all summer long in his beautifully kept back yard. In this garden he grew the most amazing  assortment of roses that I have ever seen,  they climbed the walls and always looked picture post card perfect, there were red ones, yellow ones, white ones to name just a few.  He also grew vegetables;  carrots, potatoes, lettuce, tomatoes, cabbage, as well as an assortment of herbs.

I would watch him and learn, I could see how he dug the ground, turned the soil,  made lines in the earth and planted the seeds. Once the seeds starts to sprout out of the ground, he taught me how to thin them out, so that the remaining ones had more of a chance to grow to full size.  He had patience and time and seemed to enjoy teaching me what he knew,  I soaked it all up like a sponge and very soon started to grow my own vegetables in our own back yard. He would come over and give me a hand with this, or give me instructions as he leaned over the wooden fence that separated both our gardens, in many ways he was the grandfather I never knew. 

On cold wintry days, he would sit me on his lap in front of the big open fireplace and tell me to watch the flames,  he said that if I looked closely enough I would be able to see pictures in the fire. And it was true!  I did make out shapes of different things in the flames, as they flickered and snapped, sometimes rabbits, sometimes dogs, sometimes people.  Mrs.  Campbell would make me dinner and hot chocolate and asked me if I wanted to talk to her budgie ‘Joey’.  Joey was in a cage of his own which hung by a rope in the living room window,  he spoke one or two words and I would repeat these to him and he would reply.  This amused me no end.  This connection with the Campbell’s would become even more important to me when, at the age of nine,  my mother would suddenly leave
.

 
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« Reply #92 on: 17 November 2009, 23:13:35 »
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Life felt strange without my mother’s presence. My heart was sad, a sadness that went deep into my being and I’m sure left me with many emotional scars for years to come, my soul felt only half alive, but still, life went on as it always does. By now, I should have been used to losing those who mean the most to me, but this lose hit me particularly hard. The only consultation of not having my mother anymore, was that I didn’t have to witness the constant fighting between my parents, that was the only bonus of losing something so vital in my nine year old life.

Sometimes, I would play out in the back, the garden seemed empty without her and I’d remember the times that she and I had spent together, the conversations we had had, sitting in the summer sun enjoying each other's company. I ’d miss her touch, the way her hand fit so well in mine when she held it, I’d miss the way she always reminded me of something when I forgot, I missed many things about her. Sometimes she would tell me about her childhood in India and how she was once the cherished daughter of a Military Officer and how all that changed when she had to be sent away to be married. During these times together she had taught me how to knit and crochet, something that was taught to her as a child, as was the way for many well brought up young girls who would one day grow up to be a true ladies.

I’d see dandelions growing wild, and I’d pick one up and blow the little feathery seeds in the air, I’d see them go up in the sky and say to myself, this one will reach her and she’ll think of me.

   
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Rattler
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« Reply #93 on: 18 November 2009, 20:12:08 »
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How  much I enjoy reading these snippets! Mainly because I also would like to write up such stuff but fiind I do not have the ability (in English).

OTOH, these snippets - as intersting as they might be (and the are!) - do not make a novel (a book, maybe, or the background for a character/protagonist) as it is all auto biographic (more on HANG as this is not the place).

Rattler (and if I was not clear, I say: Keep them coming!)

Rattler
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« Reply #94 on: 18 November 2009, 23:09:32 »
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Thanks,  Rattler.   Kus

I'm determined to finish this one off. And then try and get it published if possible.
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« Reply #95 on: 25 November 2009, 18:15:34 »
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At five years old

Money was always in short supply, even though both of my parents worked all the hours God gave them.  Every Saturday we would go to town to buy our groceries for the week,  my sister and I always accompanied my mother with this weekly task. My mother would put food into the cart and then re-think it over  and take it out again,  knowing she may not have enough money to pay for it once we got to the cash till.  Many times this is exactly what happened,  the bill would go over the five pounds a week that my mother was allocated to buy food with so at the cash till  she would say, in her broken English;

 ‘sorry no change’

‘What do you mean, ‘no change?’’ the confused cash till girl would ask

My mother would then show the girl her purse and then it was understood that there simply wasn’t enough money to cover the bill for the groceries.  So some of the food would have to be put back,  until it all came to five pounds or under.  Being a normal child who wanted whatever every other little girl wanted, occasionally I would ask my mother to buy me something, one thing that I had my eye on was a beautiful Spanish Doll, that had a lovely red dress on with frills on the sides.  This doll stood on the top shelf above the produce section in the supermarket, and I wanted it so bad.  I very rarely asked for anything for myself,  knowing the answer would be no. So you can imagine my surprise when one day my mother surprised me,  she picked the doll up and gave it to me.  I almost cried from the happiness I felt at being able to have this doll,  I couldn’t believe that I was actually going to own my very first toy.  I treasured that doll for a long, long time,  I played with it until the dress started to look raggedy and the arms and legs started to fall of it,  it was the only toy I would have for many years to come.  I still don’t know how my mother managed to pay for it.  She must have hidden some money away, where my dad didn’t know, and saved up for it for a very long time, in order to be able to afford it.
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« Reply #96 on: 25 November 2009, 22:05:03 »
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Interesting, from all POVs:

Many of my women with a budget would hide away money (for the good of the family, I presume and they stated when caught), and I remember also those toys of childhood that you never forget, mine was a music clock that I would listen to every night and even my kids had a chance to listen to unitl it died.

Rattler
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« Reply #97 on: 25 November 2009, 23:23:19 »
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That's sweet.

My mother had a very hard life in many ways.
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Koen
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« Reply #98 on: 22 December 2009, 21:16:54 »
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talking 'bout memories, using Facebook I found this picture of graduation class of '88

see if someone recognizes me...ofcourse not...



* 5295_100448746637617_100000174754671_9566_7885065_n.jpg (68.23 KB, 604x321 - viewed 424 times.)
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Rattler
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« Reply #99 on: 22 December 2009, 21:45:19 »
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I only see one bald guy there, but for some reason don´t think it is you after all?

My only other guess (oh, havent we all changed a lot? Smiley ) would be the guy front line at the side of authority.

Rattler

talking 'bout memories, using Facebook I found this picture of graduation class of '88

see if someone recognizes me...ofcourse not...

<Quoted Image Removed>

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