Writing Exercise: moving to somewhere you’ve never visited… describe it in 10 minutes

This wasn’t the writing prompt I actually chose in the second session of the memoir class tonight, but really, they were both incredibly tempting. SO, I tried the this one at home, just now. Repetitive and rough. Lots of “I” and “I’d” sentences, but it’s a start, maybe even helping me get my head in the game for the New Orleans scenes in Build Me a Woman, length as yet undetermined… novel? Longer story? Time will tell!

(I edited just a smidge from my initial attempt, having realized in places it was very much a vacation situation, souvenir shopping, etc., versus moving there to settle, or even just for a longer while… maybe the whole thing kind of feels that way anyway… but like I said, it’s a good jumping off point… I guess part of me was already imagining a dream vacation there.)

I’m moving to New Orleans, where the Chartreuse liquor turns your eyes bottle-green, and Mardi Gras beads of every color and variety hang from the drooping branches of Live Oaks, in the humid Star Jasmine-fragranced air.

I’d wear rosaries beaded with Connemara marble-like glass beads, and Irish Claddaghs, and shamrocks, and strings of those wild beads, and visit the churches, just to enjoy their beauty.

I’d leave a Sara Lee pound cake for Saint Expedite at the tomb of Marie Laveau, as prescribed by legend, and give an offering to his chapel, leaving a small petition behind, at his feet.

At Cafe du Monde, I’d sip cafe au lait and munch on beignets, not minding the powdery sugar soon dusting my cleavage, since I tend to wear my food, when it’s even a little bit messy.

I’d order chocolate croissants, and cheesecake, shrimp etouffee, gumbo, po’ boys… coconut cakes with more than 10 layers, white icing between every one… pralines, and crawdads. Alligator.

I had gator bites at a Cajun restaurant in Wisconsin Dells. Surely they serve them somewhere in Louisiana!

Muffuletta, which I tried at a pub and grill in De Pere, Wisconsin. It’s amazing how far north you can find a taste of the South.

I’d learn to play more than just Blackjack, and brush up my skills on that, too, and play cards at the bars, maybe take someone with me so I could have a small sip of the cocktails I wanted to try, without having to finish the whole thing.

Or, I could just kiss them, depending on our relationship, and taste the drink on their lips, in their mouth, on their tongue.

I’d face my fears and take a tour down the bayou, where fireflies light up the night, and eyes hover just above the water’s surface at times, animal eyeshine as the boat’s illumination reaches them.

Do they offer bayou tours at night? They must, I would think? To tell ghost stories related to that part of the state?

Oh, and I would tour the cemeteries and take the carriage rides where a period-dressed guide tells you all about Anne Rice and vampires and the Casket Girls.

I’d have my tea leaves read, and visit every new-age store I could find (and I imagine there would be a lot of them). I’d start collecting Tarot decks, and have my cards read, as well. I’d shop for feathered masquerade masks, regardless of the season, to add to my collection, for decor.

I’d tour the museum full of Mardi Gras floats and memorabilia. I’d live it up at Jazz Fest, and French Quarter Fest, and tour the music scene to the best of my ability, even venturing into the divier bars that are known for more experimental or up-and-coming sounds.

I’d wander the Garden District, and ride the streetcars.

I’d fall in love with the city and leave a little of myself behind, every time I had to travel anywhere else, to see family. I’d fall in love with the people. I’d look for the prettiest, most dangerous faces in the crowd, and lose some of myself to them, too, whether any words are exchanged, or not.

Broken and beautiful. Just how I like them.

(NOTE: Pardon the smoking image… I guess I always imagine most smokers as angsty… this was the first pic after much Pexels surfing that seemed to fit the closing bit of the exercise.)

The second and final session was SO fun! I got some great feedback on my piece “Elizabethan Angel Wings.” Some of it was more technical. A woman asked if I journaled, had I been journaling during the trip. I said I wrote short, wild things on postcards during the trip but yes, I did journal in general. Not sure when I started. HUGE cardboard box full of journals in my closet. She also said I was “obviously a very gifted writer,” which was so encouraging to hear. Asked me if I had any regrets about having been forced to go on the trip, since it sounded like I had some amazing experiences there.

I suppose at this juncture, I’m (mostly) over regrets. Even with all the madness along the way.

I said there were a lot of moments during that trip that felt very spiritual, not just having seen someone dressed as a literal angel, right outside my window, noticed seemingly by chance. I admitted I wasn’t sure if that was a legitimate thing, or if some of that feeling had been clouded by mental illness, but that maybe it was BOTH my brain chemistry, and something spiritual, not one or the other.

And a woman sitting close to me reached out her hand, wanting to hold mine. Once she started talking, I understood why, and took her hand. She made me cry grateful tears. She said their son also struggles with “mental issues,” and that she felt my story. That she could tell I was a survivor.

Just before everyone filed out, her husband wished me good luck with my writing, and his wife added, “And with your life!”

I left feeling so seen, so heard, so supported.

And I have signed up for a session of an online course in creativity for writers, to blast through writer’s block. It starts about mid-November. So I’ll have something to look forward to, for after kiddo goes home. AND I also learned the apothecary right by my work that has psychic nights, etc., may also have a writer’s group! At least, I had seen a flyer for a session earlier into September. Will look into that when I stop in.

I’m going to keep trying. I feel like maybe taking some classes, talking to some people, learning more things, can only help. Maybe they’ll help me open doors I don’t know exist. Maybe it’ll just be a useful experience.

(for the curious, the writing exercise I DID choose to try in the 10 minute warm-up was writing about my favorite Halloween experience, a prompt inspired by the instructor having seen a hearse with a license plate that somehow spelled out “Flatliner” — reminds me I want to watch that movie again, Flatliners, even if I remember it being a little creepy… but KIEFER!!! — and anyway the hearse with the spooky plates also had a skeleton in the passenger seat. Coolness.

I talked about the Halloween I imagine having with kiddo this October, our costumes. Didn’t think to mention passing out candy. But I talked about going to Cheesesteak Rebellion, in costume, etc.

I did kind of chicken out at the point where I said I’d sent kiddo a photo of my costume dry-run, and she’d told me one of the necklaces was likely kink couture. But there was a STAR on the end of the choke chain (and at its juncture), so I HAD to have it. Unknowing what it was for. Alors. I wasn’t sure I was ready for any kind of public reaction to that tidbit LOL.

PEACE!