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  <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2017-05-05:3183547</id>
  <title>I have Questions</title>
  <subtitle>Lots of Questions</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>tippergreen</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2025-02-09T20:37:44Z</updated>
  <dw:journal username="tippergreen" type="personal"/>
  <entry>
    <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2017-05-05:3183547:10985</id>
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    <title>NYT Writing Prompts - 2</title>
    <published>2025-02-09T20:37:44Z</published>
    <updated>2025-02-09T20:37:44Z</updated>
    <category term="writing"/>
    <dw:security>public</dw:security>
    <dw:reply-count>3</dw:reply-count>
    <content type="html">I don't know why these writing prompts keep making me a little maudlin, but here we go. The prompt was to write a story based on the image below. This isn't a story, just a slice of life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="cut-wrapper"&gt;&lt;span style="display: none;" id="span-cuttag___1" class="cuttag"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b class="cut-open"&gt;(&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b class="cut-text"&gt;&lt;a href="https://tippergreen.dreamwidth.org/10985.html#cutid1"&gt;Always Smiling&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b class="cut-close"&gt;&amp;nbsp;)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="div-cuttag___1" aria-live="assertive"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=tippergreen&amp;ditemid=10985" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/&gt; comments</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2017-05-05:3183547:10744</id>
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    <title>NYT Writing Prompts</title>
    <published>2025-02-03T23:18:28Z</published>
    <updated>2025-02-03T23:18:28Z</updated>
    <category term="writing"/>
    <dw:mood>melancholy</dw:mood>
    <dw:security>public</dw:security>
    <dw:reply-count>1</dw:reply-count>
    <content type="html">&amp;nbsp;So, the NYT does writing prompts. Did I know this? No. But I need to get back on the horse on DW, so I thought I'd see what was out there and lo and behold...writing prompts from the venerated and amazing New York Times. So, here goes, starting with February 3:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;What are your childhood memories of music?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father and his speakers. His huge, enormous, completely absurd speakers. They were taller than I was, and didn't seem to produce much noise, but I'm pretty sure he was convinced I was going to fall into them so he'd yell at me whenever I got too close. The music, now, that was less memorable. It was nearly all classical, the sounds of strings and brass and piano and winds all blending together into a very pleasant but, to my young mind, unremarkable set of sounds. I don't really know why children can't appreciate classical the way they can appreciate, say, &amp;quot;Row, Row, Row Your Boat,&amp;quot; but Mozart, Berlioz, Faure...Whatever. it was all the same to me. Except Wagner, thanks to Warner Brothers. But as for the rest, all I knew was that the music was pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing about the speakers is, they were so big and so impressive, I kept expecting more to happen when dad played his records. I wanted a sound that was intense, thrilling, maybe a little scary.&amp;nbsp; I wanted sound as big as these speakers looked to me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My older brother, when he became a teenager, played Dio, Pink Floyd, Iron Maiden and Kate Bush. But even those monsters of music sounded unimpressive when pouring out of those huge speakers. It was as if there was no sound big enough, massive enough to merit their existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still, to this day, have never found speakers that seem sufficient.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know now it's because we had a piano. When dad played it, and I sat under it, the music slammed into me, unrelenting. I felt every chord, every wrong note, every pump of the peddles, every singular strike of a key ringing through me like someone was ringing bells inside my chest.&amp;nbsp;It spoiled me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they sold the house, the speakers went away. So did the piano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really miss that piano. I miss my father playing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not miss the speakers.&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=tippergreen&amp;ditemid=10744" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/&gt; comments</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2017-05-05:3183547:1529</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://tippergreen.dreamwidth.org/1529.html"/>
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    <title>Failure!</title>
    <published>2018-12-11T03:28:00Z</published>
    <updated>2018-12-11T03:28:57Z</updated>
    <category term="writing"/>
    <dw:security>public</dw:security>
    <dw:reply-count>0</dw:reply-count>
    <content type="html">So, I failed to post over the weekend. December is hard, man. But while I'm disappointed in myself, I'm not upset because failing at things is just what happens sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Failure, while embarrassing and often sucktastic, isn't always bad. Failure teaches, primes and can even, as I'm sure we all know, open up other doors. I try to think of that anytime my anxiety gets to me over every day fails or even the big fails. Do I still worry and fret and toss and turn at night? Of course I do. But, interesting thing about getting older, I don't worry and fret or toss as much as I used to. I think this is because failures stack up - I've failed lots of times now, but I'm still here and happy, and so I've learned to roll better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, for all that, I think fear of failure at writing is a wall that I haven't quite scaled, not like the other things in my life. I'm pretty confident in what I create now. I think I'm pretty good at the medium. I have my problems (like verbosity and overusing a word) but because I can (mostly) see my mistakes, I can fix them. I still dread, however, putting things out there and having even one person tell me it's not good. Which is so stupid. Criticism is what improves any art form, or any job performance, or any skill. But despite knowing that rationally, while failing at most things doesn't bother me so much any more, failing at writing can still freeze me in my tracks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was curious - anyone out there have an abiding fear of failure for what they create? If so, what do you do to get over it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=tippergreen&amp;ditemid=1529" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/&gt; comments</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2017-05-05:3183547:1062</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://tippergreen.dreamwidth.org/1062.html"/>
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    <title>A little story snippet</title>
    <published>2018-12-08T04:40:17Z</published>
    <updated>2018-12-08T04:40:17Z</updated>
    <category term="writing"/>
    <dw:security>public</dw:security>
    <dw:reply-count>4</dw:reply-count>
    <content type="html">Still trying to post everyday!  I wrote the below a few years back while practicing voices, and I thought it might be fun to post since it's that time of year...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="cut-wrapper"&gt;&lt;span style="display: none;" id="span-cuttag___1" class="cuttag"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b class="cut-open"&gt;(&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b class="cut-text"&gt;&lt;a href="https://tippergreen.dreamwidth.org/1062.html#cutid1"&gt;The Toy Aisle&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b class="cut-close"&gt;&amp;nbsp;)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="div-cuttag___1" aria-live="assertive"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=tippergreen&amp;ditemid=1062" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/&gt; comments</content>
  </entry>
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