The Writing Loft

01/27/2023

See how many redundancies you can catch. This one is a little harder.
Group B
1. The bullets can pe*****te into any type of armor.
2. The boy completely finished his dinner
3. The weather will change during the course of the day.
4. The minors were treated reasonably fairly under the law.
5. The sign above the door protruded out over the sidewalk
6. She clipped both of her feet onto the bike pedals.

The pic below is what was left of The Loft after the fire. The wood stove is under the tree. There isn't even a small remnant of any of my 35 vintage typewriters. It's amazing how the fire took everything. The area looks so small.

Talk to you tomorrow. Good luck with the quiz. Question: Do you use a lot of redundancies when you talk? Hmmmm. Think about it.

P.S. I'm learning how to post multiple pics. I'll get it--I hope!!!!

01/26/2023

Here are the answers to Group A:

1. If you are headed to the church, pass the old cemetery. (Of course it is separate, and of course you would continue on. It is also probably old if it’s a church cemetery—but that can be debated.)
2. I made sure to ask about the candidate’s platform. ('Ask' means a question.Redundant!)
3. I was told my health was adequate for military service. ('Adequate' is sufficient. Redundant.)
4. The witness was asked to summarize what he saw the night of the robbery. (It would automatically be succinct if it is a summary. BTW, try not to write with adverbs—words that end in -ly. It kills sentence impact.)
5. Ascend the stairs to reach the top. (You can only go up if you ascend. You can’t ascend down. Delete 'up to'.)
----LOOK OUT FOR REDUNDANCIES in your writing. They are a tell-tale hint that you are not a professional writer. ----

01/25/2023

Fire Story Pics Later--for now try this:
Two of the overlooked mistakes writers make are failing to write succinctly and failing to be aware of redundancies. Can you catch the unnecessary words in these short sentences? Post the words you would delete to see if you caught them all?

Group A
1. If you are headed to the church continue on past the old separate Cemetery
2. I made sure to ask a question about the candidate’s platform.
3. I was told my health was sufficiently adequate for military service
4. The witness was asked to summarize succinctly what he saw the night of the robbery
5. Ascend up to the stairs to reach the top.

01/24/2023

Part 5

(End of Part 4: “I could not believe a church would deny us entrance. But, since we weren’t allowed to stay on the bus, our only alternative was to sit on the pavement of the church’s parking lot and wait—but wait for what? The bus had gotten us to safety so what else did we want?”)

Everyone left the bus and found somewhere to sit to contemplate their next move. Should Marty and I get a hotel room? And if we did, how would we get there? I suppose if we had relatives in the area, we could have called them for help. But our relatives are not around. They live more than eight hours away in southern California or on the East Coast. The truth is that there wasn't one available hotel room within a hundred miles. Paradise residents filled them up fast.
A myriad of obstacles and their solutions ran through my mind: where? When? Who? How? I looked around and a new reality hit me. What was I worrying about? I wasn’t sitting on the side of a dirt road in a war zone in the Congo. Soldiers weren’t looking for me with machetes and machine guns. I wasn’t in a place without food or without any hope of shelter. I was in Chico, for heaven’s sake. Whining is an insult to everything.
Just then my cell phone rang. It was one of my writing students.
“Nora, where are you? I’m coming to get you. Do you have someplace to stay? Do you know what you’re going to do?” I answered no to everything, except the part where he was coming to get us.
Bob had been a student for years and his writing had become compelling and a delight to read. He was also a friend. He took me, Marty, and our dog to his home. His wife gave us clothes, fed us, and gave us a place to sleep. We were mentally exhausted, and after an hour or two of talking to our hosts, we had no trouble getting to sleep. For now, the horror was over. We were safe. Little did we know that we would spend the next four years sparing with the insurance company, filling out forms, justifying our loses, validating our expenses, and filing a lawsuit against PGE. Above all, we had no place to live and the search wasn't going to be easy.

Tomorrow: "Tying Up Loose Ends" I'll also post a pictorial of our fire story and where we are now. IF YOU HAVE A FIRE STORY, PLEASE POST IT HERE.

01/21/2023

See you on Monday. Sunday Marty and I are deep cleaning--he promised to help. I wonder how long a husband will actually hang in there? Or, will a nap and a little TV be included? We shall see.

01/20/2023

Part 4

Walgreens and the Escape Down Skyway

(End of part 3: "I didn’t think he should either, but I was stumped. I didn’t know what would be best, staying here and letting the fire roll over us or having the car should we need it. I had no experience on which to decide, so I just watched Marty leave and disappear into the darkness.")
-----
I was out of feelings and emotions. There was nothing I could do to change my circumstance, so I emptied my mind and decided thinking was a futile exercise. I sat on my little red shopping basket and did nothing.
It seemed like hours before Marty returned. He had found our car and parked it in front of Walgreens.
“Honey you’re back,” I said, relieved to see him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. The car is out front.”
Marty proceeded to tell me how he managed. “It’s so dark out there that I had to feel my way from car to car until I found ours.” He continued, “I don’t think we should try to get down Skyway. Let’s wait here and see what happens.”
It wasn’t long before several buses arrived outside. We were being rescued by a fleet of yellow school buses. We moved quickly to get out of Walgreens and get on the buses. Lines of people waited to board as firefighters insisted they count us before we board.
My soft-spoken Marty began yelling at the top of his lungs, “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “Fill the buses first and count us after we’re on board.” He yelled it several times before anyone got the message and just let us board. The fire would soon be on us. Speed was the name of the game.
We squeezed into the seats of those elementary school buses as fast as we could. I don’t think anyone realized how small the isles and seats are. First graders we were not. Athletically built we were not. Instead, most of us were up in age struggling with pets who were scared and stressed. We sat side-saddle with our animals squeezed between us.
We took off down a traffic-jammed Skyway and inched our way passed burning stores, electrical poles, and other structures. Further down Skyway we watched as every inch of vegetation on both sides of the road went up in flames. We were driving through a burning hell.
Smoke filled the cab. We slammed the windows, and then a call went out for an inhaler. I had one in my pocket and passed it to those who had forgotten theirs.
It took more than an hour for us to get to the end of Skyway, but we made it. And just as I thought we had reached normalcy, confusion took over. The bus drivers didn’t know what to do with us. He dropped some people off at the Fairgrounds and told the rest of us that he was instructed to take us to a near-by church. We would have a temporary refuge there.
The driver was mistaken. The church refused to have us come in. They gave us bottles of water but refused us entrance.
I could not believe a church would deny us entrance. Since we weren’t allowed to stay on the bus, our only alternative was to sit on the pavement of the church’s parking lot and wait—but wait for what? The bus had gotten us to safety so what else did we want?

01/19/2023

Other pictures

01/19/2023

A Quick Break in The Fire Story
“No one ever knows where circumstance will lead and what plans the future has.”

We have left Paradise for trees and land. We are now living in Washington State in a small town with only 243 people and we are happy to increase it by two. Me, Marty, and our dog Jojo, live 35 miles north of Spokane and 100 miles south of the Canadian border. We live on 50 acres with a view that fosters creativity and begs to become a writers’ retreat. Springtime is beautiful and winters are just as gorgeous. The view from our property makes morning and evenings an event all their own.

The Writing Loft now conducts the only writers’ program designed specifically for writers serious about producing outstanding work--The Resolute Writers Program. The program has been in operation for a year and we already have writers scheduled to be traditionally published. Our RW writers remark at how awesome it is to have the skill to produce work of which you can be proud every time you put pen to paper—work you know people will want to read. The secret is emotional crafting. The skill of having the reader engrossed with the story on each and every page.

01/17/2023

Sorry, this is late. Our posting privileges got suspended for some reason. I was however able to get it fixed, so here is Part #3. I’ll post a new part everyday so keep in touch.

Part 3
November 8, Inside Walgreens

Walgreens was pandemonium. Dogs were barking, cats scratching and whining, and older folks looking desperately for someplace to sit. We older people turned over shopping baskets only to have them cave in under our weight. Great for shopping but not for the over-weight elderly. The alarm bellowed warning sounds as lights flashed—the police had broken in after all.

The instruction to move to the back of the store never came. I wondered when they would give the order, but I worried they never would. It was as though we were ignoring the inevitable, pretending we were not about to experience our own tragic deaths. No one talked about it. We were pretending.

Meanwhile, Marty thought he could retrieve our car from its parked position on the probably fire-engulfed road heading toward Skyway Road.

“I think I have time to save the car. There are no trees around here—this has an empty parking lot.”

“No.” I said not believing what I heard, “It’s pitch black outside and the fire?”

Marty didn’t listen to me and went straight to the police at the door. He told them he was leaving to find our car and drive it back to Walgreens should we need it to escape.

“I can’t keep you from going,” the policeman said, “but I don’t think you should.”

I didn’t think he should either, but I was stumped. I didn’t know what would be best, staying here and letting the fire roll over us or having the car should we need it. I had no experience on which to decide, so I just watched Marty leave and disappear into the darkness.

TELL ME, WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE????

01/14/2023

Today is preparation day--preparing the house and meals for Tomorrow's Sabbath. An extra dirty house took extra time. I will post part-3 tomorrow after 4:30pm. Tonight starts my favorite time of the week--24 full uninterrupted hours to recharge my spirit and rest my mind. Look for part--3 after sunset. There's lots more to tell.
Nora

01/12/2023

Part 2-The Fire
November 18th about 10 a.m.

The situation was serious. It was as dark as midnight, and no one knew what to do. Things were much more serious than we thought—than anyone thought. Houses all along the side of the road were burning, each in a different stage of obliteration: a fence burning here, a roof smoldering there and partial structures no longer identifiable as a house. We sat there locked in our car with the windows shut tight hoping our back-to-back line of cars would move at any moment. Inching along the road would be progress; we could get to safety. Insecurity began to set in, “Should we leave the line and look for a better route or should we stay? We were acting as though we were guessing which grocery line would lead to the fastest check-out. We were gambling on decisions for which we had no prior experience. Our thoughts were always, “What is the next best thing to do?”

Just as our frustration was becoming uncontrollable fear, firefighters could be seen running down the road toward us shouting as they ran, “Get out of your cars. Get out now and run.” They yelled, “The fire has surrounded this area and there is no way out. Get out of your car and run.”

Run? Run where? In which direction?

We began to question whether leaving our only mode of transportation was a smart move. What do we do with our pets? What do you take with you when you run? What does it mean to just run?

“Leave everything,” the firefighters ordered, “Run to the top of the hill. We are taking refuge in the Walgreens at the top of the hill.”

There was a short period of stunned silence and then the sound of car doors opening, and slamming shut. In an instant, everyone was running. They were headed up the hill to an imagined place of safety. When you don’t know what to do, you do whatever anyone tells you.

We got out of our car. Marty took the dog, grabbed my hand, and we headed up hill.

“Honey, you go. Run. Take the dog and I’ll meet you up there.”

I knew running was not an option for me. My age and years of weak polio muscles could only promise a determined stride but running—especially uphill—was out of the question. The idea of me outrunning a fire was more than impractical, it was pointless.

“No!” Marty shouted too strong for me to argue, “Hold my hand. I’ll pull you.” The dog was tugging, fighting the leash and reacting to the confusion.

“Come on,” Marty said to me, “I’ll pull you.”

“No, Honey. I’ll be okay. You run. I’ll be right behind you.”

Two firefighters heard us bantering and immediately took me by the elbows and lifted me slightly off my feet and pushed me forward. I struggled to be helpful, but it was futile. I was being pushed to the top of the hill. Marty ran along side of me, and struggling with the dog, we entered Walgreens together.

Walgreens was dark. The sound of alarms echoed on and off.

“People with dogs on the left, cats on the right,” police instructed.

Someone opened crates of drinking water and distributed shopping baskets for us to use for seats.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the firefighters instructed, “We are all going to huddle close to the brick wall in the back of the store and let the fire roll over us. We should be safe.”

Let the fire roll over us??? Who in their right mind thinks that’s a good idea? That may the plan, I questioned, but it didn’t sound safe to me. Since I did not have an alternative plan, I prepared to huddle.

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01/12/2023

Part 2-The Fire
November 18th about 10 a.m.

The situation was serious. It was as dark as midnight, and no one knew what to do. Things were much more serious than we thought—than anyone thought. Houses all along the side of the road were burning, each in a different stage of obliteration: a fence burning here, a roof smoldering there and partial structures no longer identifiable as a house. We sat there locked in our car with the windows shut tight hoping our back-to-back line of cars would move at any moment. Inching along the road would be progress; we could get to safety. Insecurity began to set in, “Should we leave the line and look for a better route or should we stay? We were acting as though we were guessing which grocery line would lead to the fastest check-out. We were gambling on decisions for which we had no prior experience. Our thoughts were always, “What is the next best thing to do?”

Just as our frustration was becoming uncontrollable fear, firefighters could be seen running down the road toward us shouting as they ran, “Get out of your cars. Get out now and run.” They yelled, “The fire has surrounded this area and there is no way out. Get out of your car and run.”

Run? Run where? In which direction?

We began to question whether leaving our only mode of transportation was a smart move. What do we do with our pets? What do you take with you when you run? What does it mean to just run?

“Leave everything,” the firefighters ordered, “Run to the top of the hill. We are taking refuge in the Walgreens at the top of the hill.”

There was a short period of stunned silence and then the sound of car doors opening, and slamming shut. In an instant, everyone was running. They were headed up the hill to an imagined place of safety. When you don’t know what to do, you do whatever anyone tells you.

We got out of our car. Marty took the dog, grabbed my hand, and we headed up hill.

“Honey, you go. Run. Take the dog and I’ll meet you up there.”

I knew running was not an option for me. My age and years of weak polio muscles could only promise a determined stride but running—especially uphill—was out of the question. The idea of me outrunning a fire was more than impractical, it was pointless.

“No!” Marty shouted too strong for me to argue, “Hold my hand. I’ll pull you.” The dog was tugging, fighting the leash and reacting to the confusion.

“Come on,” Marty said to me, “I’ll pull you.”

“No, Honey. I’ll be okay. You run. I’ll be right behind you.”

Two firefighters heard us bantering and immediately took me by the elbows and lifted me slightly off my feet and pushed me forward. I struggled to be helpful, but it was futile. I was being pushed to the top of the hill. Marty ran along side of me, and struggling with the dog, we entered Walgreens together.

Walgreens was dark. The sound of alarms echoed on and off.

“People with dogs on the left, cats on the right,” police instructed.

Someone opened crates of drinking water and distributed shopping baskets for us to use for seats.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the firefighters instructed, “We are all going to huddle close to the brick wall in the back of the store and let the fire roll over us. We should be safe.”

Let the fire roll over us??? Who in their right mind thinks that’s a good idea? That may the plan, I questioned, but it didn’t sound safe to me. Since I did not have an alternative plan, I prepared to huddle.