Time molds vivid memories from one’s past into the building blocks of one’s writing…
As mentioned in the Building Block post Squirrel Attack Poem, our interface, or possibly a time of ‘in-your-face’, with nature can be inspirational to a writer. Think about how nature took the upper hand and left you with wonderful story fodder… or almost being animal fodder.
Having spent endless hours in the woods behind my house, I was, at least in my mind, by eleven years old well aware of the haunts of nature; and of course I had that wonderful experience with a vicious squirrel, as I mentioned above. I was especially well aware of the danger from raccoons. I saw firsthand on one too many occasions how a raccoon’s sharp claws dealt with a nosey dog; not to mention dreaded rabies. Thus, at eleven I knew I had to be careful when I went on my first Boy Scout campout. However, I was eleven, and who listens to adults anyway.
We had a great day and it was time to say adios to the stars. Being tired from all that fun, it did not take long to fall asleep. Sometime after midnight I was woken by a rustling sound inside the tent. Being well versed in vampire and extra-terrestrial movies, I knew not to leap up. I slowly opened my eyes. And there in front of my face was the rear end of a raccoon; a big one.
The raccoon was apparently about to enjoy the Oreo cookies I had left out next to my sleeping area. With cookie in hand, the raccoon backed up and started using my face as a pillow. I knew not to move; as the last thing I wanted was for the obviously comfortable critter to swing around and rip my face open. Thankfully my breathing did scare — nor deter — the raccoon from its snack time; so I remained motionless for at least seventy-six hours…OK, about two minutes…until the varmint had its fill and waddled away.
I learned two things that night, don’t keep food in your tent, and raccoons do not say thank you when they eat your food.
Think about your ‘building blocks’; we can not write without them.