Words of the Day
1. Obeisance – (n) Origin: 1325–75; Middle English obeisaunce ; Middle French obeissance, derivative of Old French obeissant, present participle of obeir to obey; a movement of the body expressing deep respect or deferential courtesy, as before a superior; a bow, curtsy, or other similar gesture; deference or homage. (From Siren by Cheryl Sawyer)
2. Languid – (n) Origin: 1590–1600; Latin – languidus: faint; lacking in vigor or vitality; slack or slow; lacking in spirit or interest; listless; indifferent; drooping or flagging from weakness or fatigue; faint. (From Siren by Cheryl Sawyer)
A Slice of Life
Inspiration: Just an embarrassing little tidbit from the vault of life, as inspired by a prompt from a creative writing text. Enjoy!
Breaking Dam
A pressure, uncomfortable and aching, was building low in my gut. My bladder was about to burst! How could I have let this happen? The bathrooms were available at lunch, hell, even during my previous class, but I just had to forget. Now I was dancing my way down the halls with a jerky uneven gait, which must have looked strange to those watching me pass. Crossing your legs and trying to walk is an indescribable way to make your way to your destination. All I could think of was getting to a seat, so I could temper the incessant ache with cool hard plastic that would stay the leaking dam of my disturbingly small bladder.
I stomp-hopped my way to English class, dancing from side to side as I waited—along with a few other classmates—for the teacher to arrive and open the classroom door. I shimmied, stomped, and did the Irish jig, trying desperately to hold my water. Speaking of water, there was a water fountain being used right up the hall. I could hear the slurping gulps of the thirsty teen with supersonic ears that were not my own, making me think of the whooshing flush of bathroom toilets. This of course led my mind to the silent relief of an empty bladder. No! I almost let it slip. Just a few more minutes and I would be in!
When the teacher finally opened the door, everyone filed in, struggling to all squeeze through the tiny red doorway. Of course, when this didn’t work, everyone was forced to trudge into the classroom, single file. How dreadful! And with me dancing like a jittery lunatic at the end of the classroom conga line. Clearing the doorway, I nearly ran to my seat. I wiggled myself in, putting as much pressure on my already aching bladder as I could, to strengthen the dam that was already breaking with each tick of the clock.
The teacher began her lesson, but it wasn’t as if I could devote any of my attention—not even half my brain—to it. You must understand, that trying to work, let alone think, with a full bladder, is the equivalent of working, or even thinking, while being completely engulfed in the all-consuming hunger of a ravenous beast. Actually this is worst. Hunger can be more or less ignored. A full bladder cannot, because sooner or later it’s going to burst.
All throughout the lesson, I kept eyeing the shiny red hall pass, perched neatly at the edge of the teacher’s desk, a tease to my tortured soul. I needed that pass now, but I knew if I rose to get it, my dam would begin to falter and ultimately burst before I made it past the threshold of the classroom. So I waited it out, and boy did I regret it!
In the middle of a reading, when my mind drew away from my current crisis, my bladder decided that it had had enough. It was through crossing its arms for me. It needed to relieve itself and it needed to be relieved NOW! And so, like the simple flick of a switch, my sphincter relaxed, relieving my bladder of its awful burden; the mission had come to an end. I was angry and more importantly mortified. Angry because I felt my body had betrayed me. Mortified because . . . Well let’s just take a guess at it . . . I HAD A PUDDLE THE SIZE OF CANADA FLOWING BENEATH MY DESK!
To further add to my embarrassment, someone noticed the puddle and pointed it out to the teacher. She called the janitor, to my dismay, and a woman in clothes meant for dirty work and shoes beat down to the sole, came in with a string mop. She smiled at me, and to this day, I never knew why. Did she know what I had done and what she was mopping up with her damp mop? I don’t know and I’m sure I’ll never want to know.
And so the mess was cleaned and class went on as though nothing had happened. Besides having my jeans sopping wet with warm urine, I was generally comfortable. At the end of class, I simply wrapped my backside in a zipper sweatshirt, while I chatted up the teacher, threw on my oversized gym shirt, wiped off my seat and strolled into the halls like nothing ever happened.
I got away with it, but just barely. And so, with drenched, heavy jeans and a wounded pride, I vowed to never again ignore the needs of a full bladder.
Writer’s Corner
What kind of writer are you? That’s to say, what’s your creative paradigm? According to the authors of Writing Fiction for Dummies, a creative paradigm is your chosen method of writing or simply your writing process. Randy and Peter list four ways that we as writers use to approach our works. The first is seat-of-the pants which involves plowing through your work without extensive planning or editing; the latter is saved for the end, which amounts to quite a bit for work. Next there’s the edit-as-you-go method which is similar to the seat-of-your-pants method because it allows you to write without planning, but you take time to edit your work frequently. Then there’s the snowflake method, which calls for a loose outline that leaves room for creative changes as you go along. And the last is the outline method which entails the creation of a detailed plan before you actually write and adhering to it.
I’ve found that I like a bit of structure when I write, but at the same time I like the freedom of writing blindly to see where my prose takes me. I also like to take the time to edit my work at the end of the week to ensure its flowing properly and somewhat adheres to the loose outline I have created. When reviewing this chapter in WFD and analyzing my own writing process, I felt I identified most with the snowflake method, but at the same time, noticed that I also make use of some of the other methods. So if I wanted to give a name to my writing process, it would be: Snowflaking Outline with a Hint of Seat-of-Your-Pants.
What’s your creative paradigm or chosen writing process and how does it work for you? Feel free to share your response in the comments down below.
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