Category: writing

Bully, bully

~ Meg ~ 24 Comments

The days are gone
When one withering look
Could silence a room
The time has passed
From when your opinion counted
Your license has been revoked
All authority is rescinded
So whatever is was
You were about to say?
Just keep it to yourself.

~A poem by Meg Sorick.

Thinking about the kids as they return to school… I wish they all could realize that these days will pass and with them, the bully’s power to terrorize.

Small Cuts (20) Genevieve

~ Meg ~ 18 Comments

To find links to all parts of this story, please visit the Small Cuts Page. Here is Genevieve:

I think it’s finally happened —I’ve disappeared. No one will talk to me. They talk about me as if wasn’t here. What does that mean? I can’t see them, I can only hear them. They don’t even whisper, they speak in normal tones. Wouldn’t you think they would keep their voices down if they knew I was here? Maybe this is just a bad dream. Yet, it seems to be going on forever… I suppose that’s how it is in dreams. You can live a whole lifetime in the span of one night.

My mother and sister are here. They are always here. Or at least they used to be. Not so much anymore. Oliver, Daddy, and my brother, Craig were all here in the beginning, too. Beginning of what? The beginning of my fade from existence? Am I in a room in my parents’ house? That doesn’t make sense. There are too many other people here–people I only hear moving about in the dark, people I’ve begun to recognize simply by the noises they make. There’s one who chews gum loudly, one who sings bad ‘80’s music. “Everybody have fun tonight; everybody Wang Chung tonight!” Seriously? The worst one is the noisy breather. He —at least I think it’s a he— makes a sort-of squeaking noise drawing air in and breathing out through his (?) nose. Never says a word, just squeaks. I’m afraid of him.

Allison is crying. Don’t cry Allison. You were always Mom’s favorite.

I thought I heard Oliver and Daddy arguing, then Dad and Mom arguing. Then some other man –the loud breather, I think– trying to calm everyone down.

Maybe I lost time again. I think there are a lot of people here now. I can tell by the murmur of voices behind the ones I hear more clearly. Then everyone gets quiet and I hear just one voice, remotely familiar, but not at all welcome.

“God our Father…”

What is this? What’s going on?

“Lord, those who die…”

Stop!!! I’m not dead! Am I dead? Am I dead?

“…to sing your praise forever and ever. Amen.”

“Goodbye, Genevieve. Go in peace.”

Click.

****

I hope you’ve enjoyed (if you can enjoy such a gloomy story) reading Small Cuts. This was an exercise in writing outside of my comfort zone in both content and construction. I found it a challenge in organizing the four ‘voices’, keeping them all straight, and in writing a set of very disturbing themes: Self esteem issues, relationship issues, depression, and adultery. None of these characters was truly likable. That is what I intended. Thank you for reading and watch this space for new fiction as I develop some new ideas. ~ Meg Sorick

End Of Summer, End Of An Era

~ Meg ~ 47 Comments

In two days time, I will close the doors on my chiropractic practice for good. The week leading up to the finale has been busy. On Friday, one of my first patients will be my last and she and I are going for lunch to celebrate. On September first, when people ask me what I do for work, I will tell them I am a writer.

Being a chiropractor for 23 years has helped me become a good writer of fiction. How is that possible? There are several ways:

  • I hear about people’s lives, their jobs, their families and what they like to do for fun. This gives me a deep reservoir to draw from in creating characters’ basic details.
  • Truth is really stranger than fiction. My patients all have stories to tell. Some of them give me ideas!
  • As a doctor working with people who are in pain, you learn to develop empathy, to stand in their shoes. This also helps develop characters. Especially, the villain of the story who a writer may not fully explore. But I have found that even the scoundrels have a reason for why they do what they do.
  • I have had to learn to be a good communicator. People in pain are emotional, scared and sometimes even angry. Being able to explain, console and reassure is absolutely vital on the patient’s first visit. Good communication means being concise, not muddying the waters with overly complex and/or technical terminology. This is also the goal of the writer. Unless of course you are writing a technical manual!
  • Last but not least, I have had to actually do some writing. I’ve written countless reports for insurance companies, attorneys and claims adjusters. You learn a certain writing style in composing letters and compiling examination findings. While this doesn’t translate directly to fiction writing, it does give you practice in consistency and flow.

I cannot say whether or not I will miss being a chiropractor. I can say that I am excited to begin the next chapter of life. After a little vacation planned for next week, I will return to my war story with renewed dedication this September. And I will work at it as my full time job.

Happy writing and productive editing!