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The SilverTea Pot ... [WRAP]

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posted on Jan, 10 2011 @ 05:05 PM
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This old silver teapot has made quite a few cuppas in its time. It was a gift, a wedding gift to be exact, all the girls had chipped in of course, it was all new back then to. I used to look in this here tea pot to fix me hair, I hadn’t done that for a while. I stopped pretty’n me self up years back. I didn’t always look like I do now of course; I’m a bit tarnished and dinted just like this old tea pot. Humph and I done worked a darn lot harder too I’d recon. Where the old pots got tarnished I got wrinkles and where the old pots got dinted I got sun spots, who do I look like? I dun know really, I dun know who I take after.

Mum passed when we were just tykes you see, wasn’t long after and me and me brother Billy found ourselfs dumped off at the orphanage. Dad took off pretty quick, just left us standin there, two rag bag look’n kids and one small broken brown suitcase. Not a leather one mind you, just a plain cardboard one, the old ones with the strap n buckle . I’ll never forget that suitcase! I stood there lookin down at it the whole time I was stand’n in that empty hallway not know’n what was gonna happen to us. Billy had held of me hand so tight it turned as white and bumpy as a Cauliflower, anyway never seen me dad after that.

Billy tracked him down once, when he was older of course, married to Peg and had their own kiddies by then. Well anyway Billy walked through that there wooden squeaky fly wire door with his two, tan and white foxies at his heels. Snappy little things they were, never cared for them much as long as they weren’t under me feet, I wasn’t too bothered by em. He sat his backside down on that there stool and said nuth’n. I knew wat he was think’n, so I made us both a cuppa, poured it right outa this sliver pot just as I’m do’n now. I went and got some drop scones from the larder and we sat there, no one say’n nuth’n. He got up off that there stool and turned and that’s when he said he’d found dad, I just kinda stood there with a stupid look on me face. Humph, I didn’t wanna see me dad, never could care about a man who just packs his kids up and pitch’n em out the way he did, never could love a man like that.

Anyway he says dad had hitched up with some sheila and had a few more kids with her, I never wasted one more thought on my dad, not in all my seventy five years since.

I was sew’n hems at a haberdashery when I first laid me eyes on Roy. He come in ask’n if we sold shoe laces, he was a tall solid look’n chap, shoulders as wide as a bulls, his hair was trimmed close and he had the greyest pale blue eyes, was if a storm was swirl’n in em, even now I have to catch me breath remember’n him, takes my breath away it does, his smile was somth’n else, his top lip lifted, and as it did it showed perfect pearly white teeth, and I know I didn’t and still don’t look like someone’s who’d be know’n what pearls look like, but I did you see, as I said was sewn and pinn’n the hems of all those high stepper ’s in the city. I’d see the pearls on em they’d come in swinging in their fancy skirts and showen off their pretty broaches and hair pins. And I swear his teeth were just as shinny, I’ll tell ya if I still see a pearl today I think of his smile. He was such a sight I tell you, you know those good look’n blokes in those new snazzy under wear add s from the telly magazines, well I reckon he would beat all those blokes hands down on handsomeness.

Well as you know, I wasn’t one of those ditzzy giggly girls, but that day that first time I seen him and he spoke to me about want’n shoe laces, well I went as dizzy and giggly as those girls that spend all their summer sitt’n an waste’n time at the pier. I wasn’t one to be wast’n time and I wasn’t one to be just sitt’n either.
Well any way I felt me self go all dizzy just look’n up at him, I don’t know if I turned white like that time Billy squeezed me hand so tight or I was pink as the geranium in that there hang’n basket. I’ll tell you what though, you know how they say that cupid shoots arrows, I think they got it wrong, cause that day I’m sure he whacked me good n hard with a ruddy great big bat with stupid and giggly all over it. Well I eventually got him his laces, he put a penny in my hand said thank you and walked out.

I looked at that penny for so long, I couldn’t dare part with it so I went out back to my purse took out another penny and put it in the register and kept his penny with me every day since. I still have it see, it’s shinier now than It was back when he first placed it in my hand. I’m always fiddl’n with it ‘n rubb’n it between me fingers it’s polished all good and round now.
Anyway after a day of needles and thimbles, I was walk’n me way to the bus stop, I looked up from stare’n at that penny and almost tripped up on the curb. There he was sitt’n at the bus stop stare’n down at his new shoe laces, I’m thankful to this day there that there was no one else on that wait’n bench, cause I don’t know if me legs could of held me up much longer, they went all wobbly and I could hardly feel em.
He looked at me and I couldn’t help but look back at him he showed me that perfect smile and then calmly as, he asked me if I wanted to get fish n chips and sit on the pier. Well I was all in for that wasn’t I, So we sat at the pier sharing our chips n vinegar wrapped up in the daily news paper just like you’d wrap up a baby. He talked a little about his mum and a little bit about his dad, he talked about his work as a baker from up north and that he wasn’t going to be here much longer, a few days at the most. It sadden me heart hear’n that, but I was happy to make the most of it.
He come visit’n everyday day after that, and before long we found ourselves sittin on a fancier bench than the one back at the bus stop.

Everything in that court house was a shiny as the sap seep’n out of a tree, and just as smooth as the golden syrup I use to make me dumplin’s. And before I knew it we was married. How a plain girl like me could find and marry good bloke like that is simply boggl’n.
Well I put everything I owned in that carpet bag that I made from off cuts from the haberdashery and there I was sit’n, waiting excitedly for the train to go when all of a sudden bloody Maisy runs screaming and waving down the aisle, she caught me and bloody near strangled me with her hugs. She handed me a brown paper parcel all tied up with string, she spoke so fast and mumbled, I could hardly figure out what she was say’n.

It dint take long for the conductor to shift her caboose off the train and back out onto the platform.
And there I was sitt’n his hand in mine, we smiled and laughed and he pointed out all the sights along the way, at times my mind raced just as fast as the blurry cows and wheat that whizzed by.
Then I remembered the brown paper package Maisy gave me, so I sat there and unwrapped it. Roy kept the string winding it up and putting it in his pocket, never know he said it might come in handy.
He was good like that found a use for most things he did.
Guess what was in that package, go on guess, it was this here beautiful silver tea pot, oh it was so shinny it was like a mirror one of the best gifts I ever got, this old pot has been here whenever anyone needed comfort, this old silver teapot has heard of loves and losses its been here to celebrate all the kiddies birthdays and more, oh believe me if this here silver tea pot could talk, it would have a lifetime of memories to chat about, see me and this silver tea pot aren’t much different really.

The house was a nice little house on stilts. You know the sort build up high, keeps the house cool, nuth’n but dust n dirt underneath her old feet. It was just around the corner from where Roy worked as a baker I took on jobs of sew’n and mend’n , and what within twelve months of us be’n married n setl’n in, I fell pregnant with our first and there was many more to follow mind you. I always thought I’d make a pretty good mum, love the kiddies to bits and still do. Seven baby’s, twenty five grand kiddies and I lost track of how many great grand kiddies, it will come to me in a bit.

Well six months after Johnny’s birth we all got news on the transistor radio from the prime minster that we was go’n to war. Roy was pretty eager to pay his part and he did just that, he paid, I paid, and everyone else bloody well paid too.
He wanted to set me and Johnny up first and he had some mates back down south and their wives would’ve been alone too, what with all the blokes taken off to war and do’n there bit, so we packed up and found this house here. Too right, this is the same house, I’ve been liven here close to eighty odd years now.
Well anyway Roy and a few of his mates took the day off work and caught the train to the city to enlist, while us girls stayed back here drink’n tea from this here silver tea pot and look’n after our young’uns .
The follo’n week him and his mates, and some other blokes from here, caught the train back to the city where they waited to be bussed a few hours away to an army base. I kept me self busy what with Johnny and the sew’n n mend’n jobs I was get’n, I started knitt’n scarfs and jumpers for the salvo’s too by then. Anyway he sent me letters while he was there, I still have em, give me sec I’ll go get em.
I can read it, I still see good enough.

To my dearest Marjorie, funny read’n that. He used to say my name sounded like it came from the birds, Marjorie Florence he’d say ,then he’d give a sweet little whistle, he like to whistle, and I liked hear’n him whistle.
Well anyway where was I? Oh yeah,
To my dearest Marjorie
I think about you and little Johnny every single day, I miss holding your hand and seeing you smile,
Hopefully we won’t be here much longer, and when our leave papers come through ill be straight back home for a time, that’s if all goes well, and the fellas behave themselves and do what is expected of them.
We did have one or two mishaps; it all came about due to an unhappy ending to one of the neighbouring farmers sheep. She just happened to wonder in through a fence, the sergeant is still trying to figure that one out due to him not being able to find any breaks around the perimeter.
The fellas and I were a little put off with the rations that were provided to us and we were all itching for a Sunday roast. So we took it upon ourselves to solve the problem.
We slaughtered the wandering sheep, well actually that is not quit correct, as we had tied her up to a nearby tree. In any case she roasted up very nicely, and we all had a jolly nice feed, we were cleaning up just as our sergeant plodded into our camp, I do believe he was sincere in our punishment and I didn’t mind doing a few extra miles up the track than usual. It did bother me however when we were asked to chip in and pay the farmer for his loss, due to the fact that we paid him a good price for a lamb when in fact, as I said previously she was a sheep. The sergeant seeing no difference between lamb and mutton stood his ground and therefore ordering us to pay highly for his lack of understanding on such a matter.
Well I must get back to it, I miss you Marjorie, kiss Johnny for me and I should be home soon
Roy.

Well anyway Roy came home on leave for a bit and we made the most of it, picnics and walks in the park and so forth, and just about the time I fell pregnant with our second he got his orders to go off to Syria. So there I was in the city, Johnny on me hip baby in me belly and me try’n not to cry as Roy and all the blokes boarded the ship, never seen so many folk in all me life, they made it look like a big party they did. People were laugh’n n cheer’n, I dunno if I was the only one not laugh’n n cheer’n , maybe I was struggl’n too much with little Johnny on me hip wriggle’n an try’n to grab at the streamers. But I didn’t see nuthin happy about it, I remember get’n home to a dark house, putt’n Johnny in bed and just sit’n, I think I sat there and did nuf’n most of the night, I must have dozed off at some point I suppose.

Things became routine soon enough, I’d put Johnny in with chooks while I hung the wash’n and dug in the garden, he couldn’t get into much trouble in there, was always on the go he was. If I didn’t keep me eye on him he’d be off down the street, a few time MrsReeve’s at the end of the block would lead him by the hand back home.
Real lucky we were a pretty close bunch back then, a few times I had to call on a neighbour for help and a few times they’d call on me too. I never minded much, company was always welcome, and this here silver tea pot was sit’n here ready for anyone want’n some company.
I started get’n pains while I was dig’n some carrots, kind a threw me of at first, so I got a hold of Johnny dragged him scream’n down the street all the way to Mrs. Reeve’s house hope’n she’d be able to help me out. Of course she was, she quickly took Johnny from me, gave him some biscuits and got another neighbour with a car to get me off to the hospital. In no time at all I had new baby girl, oh was she a beauty, I named her Daisy I did. Her hair was a s white as a daisy, all the kiddies were born with blonde hair, didn’t get dark till they was all in their twenty’s, dun know why but it was the same with all of em it was.

About eight months after Roy left I got a telegram from him,
I got shot im in hospital, all good, on crutches, love Roy.
Me heart skipped a bit couldn’t stop the ruddy tears from flow’n, eventually pulled me self together and got on with it. Garden’n, knitt’n, sew’n and look’n after Johnny and Daisy. Just everyday stuff like that, on occasion one of the other wives would drop by cry’n n all, but a cupa tea would solve most of their problems.
I was happy to get another telegram that Roy was come’n home for a bit, thats when he told me how he got shot. They were in a trench when a bullet ricochet’d of Dan’s helmet then go’n straight through Roys boot and kill’n a bloke lay’n behind him. Suppose you get lots of co incidences like that from war. Well he was home for a spell and once again I found me self pregnant. Roy was off again it would be last time I’d see him in five years.
Some brilliant general sent him and the rest of his regiment on some beach somewhere with no ammunition, wasn’t long and they found themselves be’n taken prisoner and halled away build’n train tracks. I didn’t know this at the time mind you, all I was told is he was MIA, you know what that is don ya? Yeah that’s right missing in action. I cried me self to sleep many times in those years. Lucky I had the kiddies, some of the wives had no one but me and this here silver tea pot for comfort.

Things were pretty tight back then, didn’t even have enough money to buy any wool for knitt’n had food though, I had the chooks and I was pretty good at look’n after the veggie patch. And I was a good enough cook and made preserves and pickles. And we all swapped them with each other when we could.
I was happy to get another telegram say’n they found Roy, it didn’t say much other than that, still it relieved me hart to hear it.

I got four more telegrams from Roy in the year’s follw’n, they didn’t say allot either, stuff like we are doing well they are feeding us well and everything is well, love Roy. I compared my telegrams to the other wives and they all said the exactly the same thing word for word, only the name was different of course. Censored one of the girls kept say’n, I didn’t care if it was censored or not, I was just happy to be read’n his name, love Roy that’s all that mattered to me. Love Roy.
Did I tell ya that railway became famous n all after the war, I’m kinda proud about that many of our blokes put their guts into that railway. Anyway we heard the blokes had finaly got back into our waters and they had em on a ship just float’n around out there, wasn’t sure why they did that, figured it out once Roy got back home though, they had to fatten them up, the ship was like a big float’n hospital.

It took a while for things to find a new place in our days, everyth’n change right down to when I’d do the wash’n to when I’d feed the chooks. But things was goanna be alright now I had me Roy back.
As the years went on we had four more kiddies, good kids they were. It was the last baby, Betty, that had me scared, born premature you see, tiny little thing she was, didn’t have those fancy humidicribs like they have nowadays ended up put’n her the lower plate warmer of the wood stove. Roy and I’d take turns watch’n over her, he called it picket, I called it kiss n cuppa time, he’d kiss me as we passed each other in the passage and then I’d go sit in the kitchen watch’n the baby and then pour me self a cuppa from me silver tea pot. Weeks went by with us doin this; the other kiddies were good of course. Didn’t cause no problems, got themselves off to school n all, the bigger ones look’n out for the little ones.

A year after Betty was born, Betty be’n our youngest, we lost Dorothy in a car accident. Dorothy was our fourth, she was out with her friends, they must have been go’n real fast to for the car to look the way it did. Toughest thing a mum has to go through I think, loos’n one of her babys.

Roy passed away a few years back now and I’ve been stubl’n through the days ever since, but crikey its hard without him. Everyone else has gone to now, from the old days anyway, for some reason death keeps on miss’n me, dunno why that is, I suppose times up when times up.
Oh the kiddies still visit once in awhile, normally round about Christmas time, try’n to drag me outa me house and into some nurs’n home, I won’t have it mind you.

Nope, you’re the only one to come visit and keep me company, besides this here silver tea pot that is, and I thank you for that, you sit’n here list’n to an old woman ramble on about nuth’n important to anyone else but herself, I’m grateful for your visits.

Time for a fresh pot of tea I think.


edit on 10/1/11 by Whateva69 because: (no reason given)




posted on Jan, 10 2011 @ 10:02 PM
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reply to post by Whateva69
 


What a great journey! Thank you for sharing this! S&F!

A little OmegaLogos style "personal disclosure": I have a shaving mug that was my fathers, and his fathers before him, that stayed very much in my mind as I read this story. It's strange how these little objects can become friends to us.

~Heff



posted on Jan, 11 2011 @ 12:45 AM
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reply to post by Hefficide
 


Oh I’m glad you liked it, I had to cut it short due to the fact that I kept crying too much at the end
and my husband kept telling me I was nuts for writing things that make me cry.


and yes i have a coffee table that means allot to me, the kids would bite on it when they were teething, and it would kill me if it was sanded back.



posted on Jan, 11 2011 @ 12:21 PM
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reply to post by Whateva69
 


I like your writing stye. Two
...as siskel and ebert would say!
I cried. So much has happened in your lifetime, and so well described! Thank you for sharing!



posted on Jan, 11 2011 @ 08:18 PM
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reply to post by ldyserenity
 


Oh Idyserenity I’m sorry it made you cry, but I was hoping it would make you laugh or even smile a little too.

I know the writing contest is to be “things that really amp you” only I can’t’ write that,
I write what I imagine,

Idyserenity this story isn’t about me, it came from my imagination, it’s not real
.
What amps me is people take others for granted, the old woman after having all those children, all those grandchildren and at the end she still finds herself alone, when in fact, that little house of hers should be crazy with people coming and going.



posted on Jan, 12 2011 @ 06:51 AM
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reply to post by Whateva69
 


That was an amazingly sweet & heartwarming story & I really enjoyed it. Everything but the added accent was very convincing & I personally related to the story because my grandmother passed away last year and her name was peggy, and she came from a big family & I used to live in a house on stilts. the whole thing made me feel very sentimental.

Thanks for sharing

S+F

-B.M

P.S) I have to admit I also thought we had a 90+ year old on ats for quite some time after the story before it clicked to me that it was fiction

edit on 12/1/11 by B.Morrison because: (no reason given)



posted on Jan, 12 2011 @ 06:28 PM
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reply to post by B.Morrison
 


Hahah yeah the accent is country Australian ... and yep that’s how we talk.
I have to actually concentrate when I speak, if I don’t want to sound like a bogan



posted on Jan, 12 2011 @ 09:20 PM
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do you mean like 'alice springs' country? I'm in S.A


-B.M



posted on Jan, 12 2011 @ 11:22 PM
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reply to post by B.Morrison
 


Born in Ballarat Vic,from there it was Darwin, NT, 12 months in WaggaWagga,12 months Toowoomba where we are now, and we move again in March this time were off to Townsville.



posted on Jan, 13 2011 @ 11:39 AM
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Wonderful story, you have out done yourself. Great conceptualization!




posted on Jan, 13 2011 @ 01:03 PM
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That was absolutely smashing!



posted on Jan, 13 2011 @ 08:47 PM
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Thanks guys, I’m glad you enjoyed it.

And yeah Uber, it just seemed to flow really smoothly together. I did make a few mistakes, but nothing big that it took away from the story.

BlackPoison, your comment put a smile on my face. You tricked me and let that awful ego poke its ugly head up. Isn’t it amazing what four words can do. On the other hand ill take your comment and embrace it . Thank you



posted on Jan, 15 2011 @ 10:41 AM
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I enjoyed this, especially the ending. It made me sort of picture myself as that old lady somehow someday. I can relate to her feelings of being alone at the end. I'm sure I'd fight going into a nursing home, as well. I had a little bit of a hard time with the accent, at first I wasn't sure what it was or where it was coming from, I thought it was an English accent. But no matter, I got past it. I did see her as a strong woman who was getting through life past some big obstacles and that no matter what, she remained strong. That I like. Thank you for sharing this and have a great day!



posted on Jan, 15 2011 @ 07:27 PM
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reply to post by queenofsheba
 

Oh Quenofsheba i'm glad you liked it.

Aussie: Yeah, lot’s ov forener’s have truble read’n the Aussie axesent, get’s a bit confuse’n.
Translated: Yes, allot of foreigner‘s have trouble reading the Australian accent, it can get confusing.

EG:
Aussie: I’m nick’n up the shop’s, ya wan anyfi’n?
Translated; I’m going to the shop, did you want anything.
Aussie: Yeah grab me some tayta’s will ya love.
Translated: Yes, grab me some potatoes, will you love.

Here are two more example's, Enjoy and have a god laugh on us





posted on Jan, 15 2011 @ 10:18 PM
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I did like her and her silver teapot. I was thinking on and off today about her and how cool it would be to have her to visit. I need someone to go talk to sometimes and as I have no grandparents left she would fit the bill. I'm craving me some tea.



posted on Jan, 16 2011 @ 03:27 AM
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reply to post by Whateva69
 


one of my favourite examples of aussie slang is this Frenzal Rhomb track



reminds me of my punk days back at high school


-.BmM



posted on Feb, 16 2011 @ 02:27 PM
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Hi Whateva! Thanks for pointing me to your story here from the other story, I'm Only Four.

I really, really enjoyed this story! Here are the two things I liked most:

1. I loved the way the story started with the teapot and kept coming back to it as the central focus. Even as the character spoke about many aspects of her life, the teapot had that small gravitational pull for her to keep coming back to it. You can actually feel how much she loves that teapot and how it contains her memories. It makes the teapot priceless.

2. I really enjoyed the way you composed this so that it seemed like Marjorie was talking directly to me. I couldn't stop reading this story in the middle, because I didn't want to be rude to Marjorie, so I simply sat at her kitchen table, sipped tea and listened to her story until she was done. That made reading this a personal experience for me, as if her and I were the only people in the world privvy to her speaking. Excellently done!

From reading both of your stories here on ATS, I've learned something about you too. That is, that you have an uncanny ability to put yourself in the place of your character. That's why the posters above thought at first that this story was about you. I sense that when you were writing this, you didn't ask yourself what Marjorie should say next, instead, you were thinking what would I say next. :-)

As an American, Marjorie's voice to me sounded like she was from the rural western mountains of North Carolina, since I don't know what rural Australian sounds like, but I'm glad you wrote this in dialect because it gives a sense of realism to it.

What are chooks?

In your other post, you mentioned punctuation, spelling and grammar. You are right, editors don't come cheap, but people who like to proofread stuff for fun usually don't cost anything. I'd be happy to give you my take on what could be fixed in this story or any others you would like. I'll give it a shot with this one if you like.

Once again, thank you for posting this! Best topic I've read all week!

TSawyer



posted on Feb, 16 2011 @ 07:21 PM
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reply to post by tsawyer2
 


Chooks are chickens or hens, I don’t know why, but when Aussies feed chickens we say here chook chook chook chook as we throw the feed on the ground for them, it’s like calling here puss puss puss when you feed a cat. I never realized how bazaar us Aussies are.


Wow... I would so love to see this little tea pot story all fixed up. Thank you so much, that is incredibly kind of you .

Thank you.



posted on Feb, 16 2011 @ 07:54 PM
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Originally posted by tsawyer2

I really enjoyed the way you composed this so that it seemed like Marjorie was talking directly to me. I couldn't stop reading this story in the middle, because I didn't want to be rude to Marjorie, so I simply sat at her kitchen table, sipped tea and listened to her story until she was done. That made reading this a personal experience for me, as if her and I were the only people in the world privvy to her speaking. Excellently done!

How weird is that, when I was writing this, I felt the same way, it was rude to stop writing half way through, so I could cook dinner for the family. If I remember we just had toasted cheese sandwiches that night so I could get back to the silver tea pot



From reading both of your stories here on ATS, I've learned something about you too. That is, that you have an uncanny ability to put yourself in the place of your character. That's why the posters above thought at first that this story was about you. I sense that when you were writing this, you didn't ask yourself what Marjorie should say next, instead, you were thinking what would I say next. :-)

Oh I know it can get tiering for me sometimes and I often have to have an afternoon sleep.
especially when I'm working with more than a few characters. It’s like I’m in there with them.

I also use my senses to get me in a characters state of mind. I spray different perfumes for different characters. Say one sister to me smells like Elizabeth Ardens 5th Avenue and I will use Giorgio Valenti’s Magic Kiss for the other sister.

I use many things around the home to help me get in tune with my characters, it could be as simple as me feeling the different fabrics when I fold the washing.

Iid be interested in how real writers write their storys.
I don't know if there is a right or wrong way to go about it. I pretty much see it like a movie and i just write along with what i see or feel for most of it.



posted on Feb, 17 2011 @ 09:09 AM
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reply to post by Whateva69
 


Very engaging! Once I started I couldn't wait to hear what happened next. At the end I laughed when I read the closing statements!


Nope, you’re the only one to come visit and keep me company, besides this here silver tea pot that is, and I thank you for that, you sit’n here list’n to an old woman ramble on about nuth’n important to anyone else but herself, I’m grateful for your visits.


I'm thinking to myself, no problem ma'am I'm here whenever you wanna talk.



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