Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Turning a Farming, er, Mishap Into Writing Inspiration

Real life offers great opportunities for adding depth to your writing.

For example, I now know that lips do more than wear lipstick and hold cigarettes. They serve a very practical purpose, that of keeping spit in your mouth. Why, you ask, am I worried about spit and whether it stays in my mouth? Because it’s suddenly relevant thanks to a recent farming mishap.

Let me share a tip, something that might save you pain and unsightly drooling in the future: keep your free hand firmly on the heavy-duty brushcutter when your other hand yanks on the starter cord. If you don’t, said brushcutter is likely to fly up off the ground and smack you in the face. Or, more precisely in my case, the mouth.


Another lesson learned the hard way.


How could this possibly add depth to my writing? At the time of the lip-splitting injury, I wasn’t worried about writing at all. I was more interested in stopping the cascade of blood running down my chin and neck (although I do remember a certain amazement that a damaged lip could bleed so much), and berating myself for not putting a foot on the brushcutter before trying to start the thing. I am a grown woman. I know better.

No, it was my husband who was thinking of my writing career when all this was going down.


To his credit, he didn’t mention writing until he got me back to the house, sopped up most of the blood, verified that my teeth were still snug in their gums, and determined that I probably wouldn’t need reconstructive surgery on the lip. (Yes, the split is that deep. It’s not a cut, not a fat lip, but a split right through the lip. Ouch. And ick, because it leaks.)




Only then does he say, “You need to write this down. How it happened, how it felt. The blood, what your lip looks like. Because one day, Cass is going to split her lip while trying to start a weedeater.”

Oooh, yeah, I think, attention totally diverted from the sting of hydrogen peroxide. “It wouldn’t be Cass,” I clarify, hoping that my imaginary main character is smarter than I am. “But Goober might do something like that.”

“No,” Husband says. “There’s no way Goober could start something as complex as a weedeater.”

“Good point. Maybe it is Cass. She might get bashed in the face when she’s arresting somebody.”

After that, I was off. Pain not entirely forgotten, but pushed to the side, brain alive with a new scene for my current book, wondering how to describe the sensation of a lip splitting, the taste of blood, and all the rest of it. Fun indeed.

I also realized that I do this quite frequently - pondering whether real life will work in a novel, not whacking myself in the face - though it’s usually someone else’s injury that inspires me. Yes, it’s crass, but it’s also the truth.

Is it just me, or do you find inspiration for your writing in the messes we get ourselves into?


(A few tips, just in case you ever split your lip while trying to start a brushcutter: 

An ice pack helps with the swelling. 

Laughing, smiling, and sneezing are not advisable. 

Straws help – think Mason Verger in Hannibal – but hold off on sipping that hot cup of coffee or tea until it cools down a tad.)


photo credit: arte_molto_brutta_2 via photopin cc
photo credit: madamepsychosis via photopin cc
photo credit: tarotastic via photopin cc

12 comments:

  1. Now that's not funny, but ya have to laugh anyway! Made me think of a farm incident of my own, that gave me quite a bump on the head...all I could do was sit and laugh, thinking of how it all looked to God, looking down from above...hilarious. I had a bucket of feed for my calf who was in one pen, and there was a large pig in the pen that I had to walk through to get to the gate to the calf pen...it had rained about 6 inches, and the whole place was a muddy mess, and of course a huge mud puddle where the gate was...trying to keep the hog off me to open the gate with one hand while holding the bucket up with the other, the calf runs over, knocks the gate open, runs into the pig pen, the hog runs into the calf pen, the bucket of feed went flying, and I slipped in the mud and landed right on my bluejean pockets (butt) in 6 inches of mud...and to top it all off, the gate slammed shut, hitting me in the back of the head. There I sat, and just started laughing at how funny it must all look. Glad no one was around to see it though! Hope your lip heals quickly...try aloe.
    Luv ya'll!

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    1. I shouldn't laugh, Nancy (really I shouldn't!), but that is too funny! Sometimes, there's nothing to do but see the funny in things. Hope the hog and the calf managed to get a bite of that feed!

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  2. Are we doing stupid farm tricks? I was cutting the twine on bales when my dad hollered at me (just wanted to know where I was), and instead of slashing the twine--um, I managed to cut my own arm. Doh! Or there was the time I stepped on a nail and poked clear through the top of my shoe. It hurt worse coming out that going in, that's for sure!

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    1. Ooooh, Jacquie! Slicing through your arm and stepping on a nail? Seriously painful. Haven't tried either of those. Yet. But I'm still breathing, so there's still time. Thanks for stopping by!

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  3. I had my main character in the novel I'm working on have a very similar accident - falling flat out on his face on the pavement after he tripped while running - to one I had. His was cooler though. He was running for his life from the bad guy, and I was just running for a train.

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    1. Ouch, Carrie. I hope your main character still managed to get away from the bad guy. Is this WALK A LONELY STREET? I'm looking forward to reading it!

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  4. Now, a romance writer wouldn't operate the brushcutter . . . not until some buff guy she was attracted to, but who ticked her off, came to do it for her.

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    1. Oh Helen, how true that is. Maybe I should switch from crime to romance. Might be safer.

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  5. Living on a farm myself, I can definitely relate to your story. As a writer, I can also relate to getting material for my stories from actual events that occurred on our farm - like the time my husband almost rolled an 800 pound hay round over me ... I barely escaped injury on that. Good Post :-)

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    1. Okay, S.A., that comment about the 800 pound roll of hay is terribly relevant. We're putting two out tomorrow for the cows. We use a hay dolly instead of a tractor, and rolling is a problem. Let's see if I can stay out from under them...

      I appreciate all the comments so much - it's reassuring to know it's not just me...

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  6. Now i believe you are a GREAT story-writer :

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    1. Thanks Atif, I appreciate your faith in my story-telling abilities despite my clumsiness!

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