Trevor (00:01.646)
Hi and welcome to the Right Things podcast. I'm Trevor Martens, writing coach, teacher and founder of I Help You Write Things. This episode will feature three pieces inspired by the prompt, Waking Up. Each story that you hear today started out as a four minute quick write in the Right Things community. Each writer then had a week or less to turn their quick write into a six worded word, personal or fictional piece to be inspired for the podcast. And really sparking our creativity is that easy.
a short prompt, a four minute timer, and giving ourselves the permission to write in perfectly is all that it takes. It is quite inspiring to do this in a community of writers because you get to see such a wide variety of stories and styles emerge. My hope is that this podcast does the exact same thing for you. And of course, if you'd like to try this process yourself, check out my newsletter for a new prompt and technique to explore. You can find the link in the episode description. This episode's prompt inspired nothing but personal stories from our three writers.
all involving a different kind of waking up. It's always interesting to see which stories are lurking just beneath the surface, as if waiting for an opportunity to be told. To make sure we don't overlook our stories, I encourage my writers to go with the very first idea, image, or inclination they have to write about. Then, their only job is to take their hands off the steering wheel and see what comes out. Our first writer is Marcy Harrison, a retired journalist living in Rivers, Manitoba.
who is currently exploring a variety of themes in her life, which you'll be able to read about in her upcoming memoir. Her piece is titled, Waking Up.
Trevor (01:41.934)
Shit, I think to myself as I look around at 50 sets of eyes fixed upon the video flickering at the front of the room. What am I doing here? The longer the expert on the screen speaks, the less sure of myself I become. The quicker my heart beats, the shallower my breath. Clammy hands clamp the edge of my seat to keep adrenaline-fueled feet from fleeing. Lips weld themselves together to contain the sour unrest in my stomach.
and my mind does a lot of cursing as it races to find a plausible escape plan finally settling on my only hope, the lunch break just 10 minutes away. Eyes glued to my laptop on the table in front of me, I feel like a sprinter waiting in the blocks. On your mark, get set, the video ends and people scurry to the buffet table while I lunge for my Mac. I forego food to give myself every possible minute
to completely rewrite my presentation. Not humanly possible, I know, but surely I can do a rough outline. I block out the din of social small talk, scraping chairs and clinking dishes so effectively that I'm unaware of the woman approaching on my right until she snaps my screen like a mousetrap. Are you tweaking? Drean asks, already knowing the answer. Yes, I lie, rubbing my pinched fingers.
Don't change a single thing. People need to hear every beautiful word. But it's pretty much the opposite of what everyone else is saying. That's why we asked you, Doreen grins, shaking her head. She sets a steaming bowl of tomato soup in front of me and plunks herself down, successfully keeping my hands off the keyboard for the remainder of the break. But as the clock strikes one,
The next session of the grief conference begins and my racing heart and sweaty palms return. I listen carefully to the palliative care coordinator as she discusses the grieving process, hoping to find a way to just piggyback off her, even if I no longer see grief in that mainstream conventional way. I so strongly want to share my new understanding of grief and all that it has awakened in me.
Trevor (04:05.358)
But I feel like a fish out of water in a sea of heads nodding in agreement with everything the woman is saying. Who's going to believe me over an expert? The presentation comes to an end with a round of applause and Doreen steps up to the podium to introduce the final speaker of the day. I clench my laptop and avoid making eye contact with audience members as I make my way to the front. I'm still unsure what I'm going to say for the next 60 minutes.
Should I go with what I has so eagerly written or just regurgitate what's already been said? Should I dare to be different in a world that values sameness or just blend in? Should I be my wide awake self or pretend I'm still sleeping? My hands shake as I set my laptop on the podium and adjust the mic. My heart beats a rapid stream of second guesses.
As I do a quick scan of the crowd, stalling for time, look over my shoulder at Doreen. Our eyes lock. They asked me. I take a breath and turn to the audience. Good afternoon. My name is Marcy Harrison. It's been 26 years since my daughter, Kathy Jo, died. And for the first 20 years, my grief journey was pretty typical. And then...
I pause as my whole body relaxes and smiles. It wasn't. And that's the part of my story I'm going to focus on today. While swearing can be off-putting, use sparingly, can grab your reader's attention, relaying a character's feelings and experience quickly in a powerful manner. And I think that in this case, Marcy uses it well to hook us in. We quickly learn that the narrator is in a room and wants to escape, even as a plan to, but we don't know for what and from what.
Marcy then uses dialogue to bring in another character and reveal what the narrator's fear actually is. It's of being different, of having a different perspective on grief, and all while giving us a touching scene that unfolds between this narrator and another mentor-like character. I think that the change of pace creates a feeling of immediacy. It sucks us right in. And it helps to create tension. Like, will this character, will the narrator actually trust your friend and present the presentation that she came to actually give to these people?
Trevor (06:30.902)
And the piece is great overall, but of course the ending, find to be the most powerful part. It reveals what this narrator went through, like the loss of a child, and that she's actually found a new perspective on grief. We then get to watch as the protagonist begins to share her authentic and true story about her journey with grief. And I think that Marcy does a great job of not only building up the tension to this moment, but then choosing to release us from it.
The whole time we're anticipating whether or not this character will do it. And of course she goes through with it so we feel relieved, we feel happy. But then the writer, Marcy, hooks us, I think, once more with the question that we're all wondering. And that is, like, what exactly did this narrator learn about grief that let her get past the death of her daughter? I think this is really powerful stuff. It's a great piece. yeah, if you like it and you want to know what Marcy learned about grief...
I would 100 % keep an eye out for that memoir when it gets released. And by the way, if you're curious about the original Quick Rates that these authors wrote that inspired their pieces that you hear today, you can also find them in my newsletter along with more from the Right Things community, the links in the show notes. Alicia Taylor writes poetry and personal stories that explore and bring awareness to her lived experiences, overcoming a life of addiction, domestic violence and poverty.
She hopes to show that there is no one way that people end up down these paths in life. She writes about how she got there, the time she spent there, and how she came out on the other side. Alicia is originally from Flynn Flawn, Manitoba, but now resides in the city of Winnipeg. Her piece is titled, Awaken Spirit, Awaken.
Trevor (08:17.654)
Awaken spirit awaken. The motions often take place before the realization, stretching eyes flutter a glance around and sometimes thoughts of procrastination. Once we are set into motion, sliding into an upright position, we smile, the sun guides us into a new day of acceptance. Forwards until dawn and dusk.
We lay our heads down into completion.
creator, it is me, Alicia, and I can fly. My inner child cries out in glee. She is excited to be a moon dancer. Lately, in my morning meditations, I will find her already adorned in white regalia and moccasins. She is four years old and completely authentic and real. I need her encouragement right now because adult me is freaking out. My trauma brain recoils at the thought of anything new and unknown.
My inner critic tells me whispers of despair not worth repeating. I am most worried about fasting, but most excited to grow spiritually as I step towards my first vision quest. It wasn't long ago that there was no sense of day or night for me. I was not alive, nor was I dead. I was lost where time and sleep connect. I have journeyed from afar and the path was rocky.
My story has been encouraged by the presence of a cool breeze and the possibilities of what's just around the bend. The other dancers I have met give me strength and I will draw on them during the ceremony. We have been preparing for over a month, meeting with the elders and helpers a couple times a week. It is here that I have picked up my drum and found my voice.
Trevor (10:13.12)
It is with these women that I finally feel that sense of belonging that my spirit has been searching for. We gather in downtown Winnipeg at a huge tree-filled yard with a pond and a fire pit surrounded by a secure strong wall. When my feet leave the concrete for the land, I am fondly reminded of Limpelon, my hometown. It is here that we share our hearts.
and learn what the moon dance will mean to us individually. I listen intently for the lessons in these conversations and stories. This will be difficult. I must give up sugar and coffee and walk the good red road every day. I soak up the knowledge, but it is the wisdom I seek. I am ready. I've longed for this guidance to explore within myself since I was a child. There are times I have been helpless, given up and closed my eyes.
My ancestors have kept me safe during this darkness and now I am rested. I have learned that internal growth can only come from a place of love. The adventure is not over. Only this time I will allow it to take place at will. I have made my 52 tobacco ties of gratitude, intentions and requests in a mindful meditative state. I will pack my hoops and my buffalo skull.
I will smudge with sage and give thanks for the sacred tools to guide me on this vision quest. It is only now that I can open my eyes to what they truly are meant for. I am afraid, but I am not alone. Today, I have awakened to the realization that the world will move without my permission. I accept where I am, and I am grateful to Creator for waking up my spirit.
Another great piece. I like the opening of Alicia's piece. It opens like a poem or a meditation that really sucks the reader in because we're curious about what's going on. And then she makes the choice to use the word us instead of me. And it makes it feel almost like a shared experience for the reader, like a shared wisdom, which really connects us with the text and wants us to keep and makes us want to keep reading. I like her references to like inner child, trauma brain, to the inner critic, because it creates, it presents a world.
Trevor (12:33.016)
that is beyond the one that we see every day. But we're all kind of aware of some of these topics and terms on different levels. We are familiar with them, but by talking about them this way, she almost makes them characters in this world, which really adds to almost the magical or mystical quality of the piece. I like that choice a lot. I also think that Alicia kind of plays with time and backstory well. Like at the beginning, we learn she's nervous, but we don't know what for. Then she reveals that it's for this vision quest that she's gonna attend.
But then immediately after that, she kind of gives us some background. She lets us know, and I quote, it wasn't long ago that there was no sense of day or night for me. I was not alive, nor was I dead. I was lost where time and sleep connect. Like really powerful, intriguing lines. Like we get the sense that this character's been through something, but we don't know exactly what, but it was dark and it probably took a lot for her to get here. So a really good job. keeps us, it makes us want to keep reading to learn more.
And then of course the story that follows provides the details of the experience during the vision quest, which is interesting and unique, not something that everyone has, so that's a good engagement point, which builds up to her own powerful ending where she realizes, today I have awakened to the realization that the world will move without my permission. I accept where I am and I am grateful to creator for waking up my spirit. I think that this narrator is wise, resilient and courageous.
and characters like this can keep a reader hooked throughout an entire story. You can 100 % count me as one of them. Our final writer is Josie Marks, who also resides in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. She's new into retirement and enjoys losing track of time, exploring and crafting the personal stories she's been sharing her entire life. Her piece is also titled, Waking Up.
Trevor (14:23.662)
Paula had been ill for 20 years and on the organ waiting list for the last three. The date came when she heard the words, you're running out of time. You need to find a living donor. As dire as the news was, she didn't ask anyone. I offered. June 26, barely conscious. My eyelids opened as I began to awaken from the anesthesia.
My boyfriend was holding my hand and whispered, hey there, how are you? House Paula, I mumbled. She's good. Did Portugal win? I don't know. Where's John? I want to talk to John. I'm right here, said my cousin John, Paula's husband. House Paula. She's good. Did Portugal win? Neither of them.
really knew how Paula was. She would be in surgery for another six hours. However, Google confirmed that Portugal had lost a soccer match to Argentina. June 27, fuzzy. I was semi awake when my boyfriend asked if I wanted an ice chip. Okay, I replied. Using a plastic spoon, he took a sliver of ice from a white styrofoam cup and placed it on my lips.
The ice melted and a single drop of water fell into my mouth. Do you want some more? He asked. No, I groaned. Why are you trying to drown me? June 28th, body versus mind. I awoke and couldn't move. What the f-? My body was aware of the hours that it spent in surgery and lay still, resting to heal.
My brain only recalled my eyes closing and opening. I blinked and as a result I can't move. I think I've changed my mind about all of this. Put it back! June 29. Body moves. I was awake and wanted to walk. And I did. With one nurse on each side holding me up.
Trevor (16:44.3)
and my boyfriend following us pushing the two racks of IVs I was connected to. Each step I took was only an inch in length. It took all my strength, but it felt so good to move. June 30, mind thinks. I was wide awake and looking around my sterile room when breakfast arrived in the usual beige-brown plastic tray. This time it contained solid food.
not just clear liquids. Weird that strawberry jello is considered a clear liquid, but I digress. As I swallowed something in my throat hurt, a nurse came into the room and I told him, he replied, that would be the tube we put up your nose down your throat and into your stomach. Huh? I thought with eyes wide open, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. I understood the words, but was stumped.
I have a what up my what? You haven't had an upset stomach, so I'll remove it, he added. I didn't feel anything as it was removed, but seeing the thin tube coming out, coming out, and coming out of my nose was surreal. How long is this thing? July 1 and 2, body and mind unite. During my waking hours, IVs were removed.
one at a time until there were none. I started walking on my own and greeted other patients and the nurses, learned the locations of different ward rooms, noticed the medical equipment left randomly in the hallways and the organized mess of the nurses' stations. I finally received permission to visit Paula. It was too far for me to walk, so I was taken in a wheelchair. When she saw me, she started crying.
and said, you saved my life.
Trevor (18:45.048)
How do you respond to hearing those words? Calmly, I managed. No, the doctors and nurses saved your life. I slept through the whole thing. July 3rd, ready, set, go. Awake, asleep, awake, asleep was the routine I had settled into. One final hurdle remained to be able to leave the hospital.
Huh, I thought, with eyes wide open, eyebrows raised, and mouth agape, when I first saw the poster on the bathroom wall with a ridiculous amount of variety of sausages and the words, did you? What sausage did it look like?
All right, great piece. Let's start at the beginning. Josie, I think, catches us really quick with the intriguing setting, like the situation where the protagonist is actually offered to be an organ donor to somebody who's been waiting 20 years. That's a pretty rare situation, one that not every reader's even been in. And so that immediately captures our attention. We want to hear what they have to say about this choice. And of course, Josie does a great job with humor, which really isn't easy to pull off.
Everything from her like, you trying to drown me? response to a single ice chip to the description of the sausage poster in the bathroom, which immediately, admittedly took me a minute to get, but did get a good groan out of me when I finally did. I like Josie's use of dates and the short subheadings. It was an interesting use of textual cues and a nice change of pace from the usual dialogue or narration that we see in a story.
It changes the pace because it's different, it also gets information across really quickly. It establishes a sense of time and it foreshadows what's to come, which for me, it's not only efficient writing, but it keeps the piece moving at a good pace and thus it keeps the reader engaged. The moment of connection when she finally gets to meet with her friend is touching. It reveals a modesty in the narrator who predictably uses humor to deflect from how she's feeling. You know, I really found Josie's piece to be interesting because of this humor.
Trevor (21:03.212)
And because of the authenticity and the vulnerability that she uses to describe what it's like to be an organ donor and what it's like after you've donated that organ. really, like when we as writers are willing to kind of lay all of our cards on the table, like Josie was willing to here, the reader knows at that point that the writer is not going to hold anything back and they're going to keep reading to see what else they have to say. And so I just want to compliment Josie. I think you did a great job with this piece.
It's really well balanced and it hooks us from beginning to end. So really well done. Personal stories, whether they're written as memoir or disguised in fiction, offer experiences and perspectives that many of us will never have. By sharing them with the world, we're not only helping to expand our understanding of one another, we're also letting those who do have those similar stories know that they're not alone. That's a pretty big thing. Thanks for listening to the podcast.
If you know someone else who likes listening to original stories, I'd greatly appreciate it if you shared it with them. And if you're someone who wants to begin telling your own stories, here's your next step. Try it yourself. Every week in my newsletter, you'll get a fresh four minute prompt, the same kind of the spark today's pieces. It's just four minutes, but as you've heard, those four minutes can grow into something powerful. Come join us. The link is in the show notes. Until next time, I wish you and your stories all the best.
See you in the future.
