I decided to shake things up a bit
this morning. It was cold—that is, cold for California—well okay, chilly. It
was quite chilly and foggy.
I took my two dogs out into the damp
air to the groomer’s. My little Chihuahua was shaking and happy to go inside to
be fawned over in their waiting arms. Not so for my long haired Lhasa Apso,
Buddy. He’s a loner and doesn’t like all the fussing like Milton does. He
headed toward the exit the minute I put him down.
After getting them settled in, I
decided a short trip to the La Boulangerie French Bakery & Cafe was in
order. Warm, fragrant and soothing—seemed like a good idea on what could have
been a downer morning.
With coffee and a bag of sweets in
hand, I sat outside to listen to a live Dixieland Band group that were gathered
to perform that early morning. They played Bye, Bye Blackbird while an
older couple danced on the sidewalk, a small child bounced in time to the music
and his parents drank coffee and texted—yup a good morning even though the cold
metal chair was a challenge to my tush.
Sparrows descended as soon as I took
my first bite of almond Croissant—which being French was very light and flaky. Crumbs dropped
intentionally and unintentionally. Where the heck do all those sparrows come
from? Duh, Cora, if it's winter, cold and damp, and if you had to eat every day,
wouldn't you choose the eaves of that particular building?
I sipped my coffee (yes!!! love me
that strong brew), and taking a suggestion from the craft book I’m studying,
completed an exercise by penning this moment into my main character’s POV:
Tessa whispered
the words of the lyrics while the laughing couple danced to the Dixieland tune,
Bye, Bye blackbird.
“Where
somebody waits for me…sugar’s sweet and so is he.”
She closed her
eyes to stem the tears. Jack, in her studio last night, alone. Calling
her, wanting her.
"…nobody
here can love and understand me…oh, what hard-luck stories they all hand
me."
She threw
crumbs to the greedy chirping birds that only came for what they could get from
her. Jack was different, now, wasn't he? Could she trust him with her already
broken heart? Or was she headed for another fall.
“...make
my bed, light the light, I'll arrive late tonight...black bird, bye, bye.”
Will
I use that in my novel? Time will tell. At least it's given me a fresh
perspective.
(I'm not a great fan of Dixieland, so I've included Joe Cocker's version of Bye Bye Blackbird.)
Have
you done something to freshen up your perspective when in the midst of a
novel?
I
highly recommend it—even if you’re not a novel writer. Change is good I always
say. Do you agree?
