Author: abby mumford

writing

guest post: grandpa, round 4

abby mumford

my grandpa is dispensing some knowledge, here too, also here, and would you look at that? even more below. are you digging it as much as i am?

A sound mind in a sound body, is a short but full description of a happy state in this world. John Locke, philosopher (1632-1704)

In the common words we use every day, souls of past races, the thoughts and feelings of individual men stand around us, not dead, but frozen into their attitudes like the courtiers in the garden of the Sleeping Beauty. Owen Barfield, author (1898-1997)

Everyone, in some small sacred sanctuary of the self, is nuts.
Leo Rosten, author (1908-1997)

If words are to enter men’s minds and bear fruit, they must be the right words shaped cunningly to pass men’s defenses and explode silently and effectually within their minds. J.B. Phillips, writer and clergyman (1906-1982)

A word in a dictionary is very much like a car in a mammoth motorshow — full of potential, but temporarily inactive. Anthony Burgess, author (1917-1993)

There is then creative reading as well as creative writing. When the mind is braced by labor and invention, the page of whatever book we read becomes luminous with manifold allusion.  Ralph Waldo Emerson, writer and philosopher (1803-1882)

Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody’s face but their own, which is the chief reason for that kind of reception it meets in the world, and that so very few are offended with it. Jonathan Swift, satirist (1667-1745)

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convos with strangers

conversations with strangers #32

abby mumford

i’m conversing with strangers … here’s why.

i was waiting in an odd shaped line that was more a grouping of people than a queue. i eyeballed the crowd trying to figure out if they were all one party or if they were all super excited to be purchasing books. the guy at the other cash register made eye contact and sort of shrugged at me. i meandered my way through the crowd and over to his helpfulness.

i was fiddling with my wallet trying to find the gift card that had $6 left on it when he spoke up. “it’s mumford, right?”

“yes, it is!” i said coolly, calmly, collectedly, when in my head, i was doing something like this:

I’M A REGULAR!!!!!!!

becoming a regular somewhere has been a dream of mine for ages. i don’t care where, i just want to go where everybody knows my name. of course it was at my local bookstore, but the really shocking part was that i was wearing no makeup and a baseball hat (what? it was sunday) and i was still recognized! that means i’m like a super regular. i wonder if that title comes with a cape?

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writing

overheard

abby mumford

“it’s just a sketch. that’s what it’s all about.”

i had just sat down outside. a man was sitting one table away. his gray hair was covered by a hat only a foreigner or an artist could pull off. he was both. he was speaking to a woman at another table, but who was leaning so far over in her chair, they were practically at the same table. two different generations. two different nationalities. two different genders. both interested in art.

and then there was me.

i was intrigued by this unusual pairing, but i wasn’t there to eavesdrop. besides, his original words gave me plenty to think about because here he was an artist and there i was a writer, but his words applied to us both. in any creative endeavor, or really, any type of endeavor, it’s all about the sketch, the first draft, the practice.

the beginning is the time to take chances, to try out new writing instruments (pens/pencils/oils/keyboards/word/scrivener) and structures and characters and words and make a mess and generally flail around. it’s when mistakes are allowed and confusion is abound and you’re doodling in the margins.

the sketch is the backbone of the final picture and is what it’s all about because you can’t have a finished product if you haven’t even started it.

his words were also directly applicable to my newest character, who’s a bit of an artist herself. sketches, in particular, are very important to her and i still can’t quite believe the perfection of that moment. me sitting, him speaking. it’s like i was in a movie where the thing i needed to hear was the exact thing that was said to me (or in my case, near me).

even though it’s nothing i haven’t heard before, his words were peppered with humility and honesty and were softly tinged with an accent not from nearby which made me feel like i was hearing this combination of words for the first time.

sometimes the best advice is something you already knew.

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convos with strangers

conversations with strangers #31

abby mumford

i’m talking to strangers (or attempting to)… here’s why.

me: *places INSURGENT on the counter* *smiles*

her: oh, so you liked the first one?

me:  yes, very much. did you?

her: me too. i haven’t had a chance to read this one yet.

me: i’m pretty excited about it.

her: are you part of our customer rewards program?

me: yup.

her: what’s your last name?

me: mumford. *spells*

her: *types and types* *long pause* your first name?

me: abigail.

her: *types and types* *long pause* you said it was R-U-M-F-O-R-D?

me: oh, no. it’s MUMford with an M.

her: ah, yes. found you.

and with that second chance not to mumble, i was indeed found, rung up, and out the door with a book, which, incidentally, did not care how i spelled or spoke my last name.

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