The Writing Loft

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.

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.

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.")
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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?

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.

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

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.