Draft

Draft. That's what I've labeled my "book," so that might tell you something. It also implies the thoughts that are blowing through my mind - in no particular order.

Today, we had a creative writing professor come talk to us. Interesting stuff. I am somehow stuck on the stream-of-consciousness piece. When I came back to the United States in the late '70s, one of my first jobs was with some magazine in San Francisco. They asked me to cover a fashion show, which I did - in stream of consciousness. I'm sure it was one of my best efforts ever, but I can't even remember the name of the publication now.

As we talked about SOC, I couldn't take my eyes off one of our facilitators' tats. There were lips on his left arm and somewhat hidden under his sleeve you could see a woman's legs and I really think she was riding on the back of some fish. This is the stuff that makes you crazy - wanting to rip off his shirt to see the rest of the story.

OK, this is what happens with SOC. You lose track. You move in different directions. Not necessarily the right ones.

Our exercise for the day was to write from three different perspectives - 1- totally impersonal, just the facts ma'am, 2- a little closer now, descriptive, and 3-way inside the mind (this is the SOC thing). Here's how it went:

1. Zacharia wakes up and walks up the hill to tend to his cattle. The day is bright, the earth is cold and broken. He has a whip. He doesn’t use it. It just hangs from his side.

The cattle graze on almost nothing. Rain hasn’t come to the village for months.

Zacharia, his lips parched and his feet calloused, often walks with other villagers to places far from the hill, where they can find water, kill a gazelle, eat for a day.

2- Zacharia wakes up, exhausted, and walks up the hill to tend his cattle. The day is bright, too bright, and the earth is cold and broken, like the village. Like Zacharia and his cattle.

He has a whip but he has no interest in using it. Why? Where would he send the cattle? They are grazing on almost nothing. Rain hasn’t come to the village for months, and everyone has forgotten the feeling on water on their faces.

His lips are parched and his feet calloused. He knows this is how it should be. There’s no other option.

3- Zacharia wakes up, exhausted. What happened to  make him so tired when the day is beautiful, bright. A bird is flying by. The cattle are moving. He’s moving. Slowly. Where is everyone else? Did he get dressed today? Oh, he’s carrying a whip, but what to do with it? A woman gets whipped sometimes. That man in the village, he’s bad. The cattle bray and Zacharia pays attention. Maybe he should use the whip. He took a whip with the other villagers. That girl wanted to come but she was too young and soft. The bed wasn’t soft.