The Stairwell

Week after week I saw him. He slowly descended, step after step, holding onto the railing for dear life as people absently rushed past. The elevator in our crumbling complex had failed some time ago and now this stairwell buzzed with activity. People raced and skipped over steps and puddled landings to reach their destination before the dank smell settled firmly in their noses. But not him. 

I watched him from the top one morning. Briefcase in one hand, the other attached firmly to the rusty rail, he creeped down the concrete steps with wide eyes and slow breaths. His once pressed suit hung wrinkled from his stiff shoulders. He pulled into himself more with each person who brushed past. I wondered briefly why he was alone. Many times we'd shared the elevator to our floor, his smile wide as he tightly grasped the brunette's hand and kissed it sweetly. 

As I descended behind him, he stopped and waited for me to pass. I stood beside him under the flickering overhead light. Our feet rested side-by-side, toes hanging over the edge to shadow the next step. He glanced quickly in my direction then stared right back toward the floor.

“Good morning,” I greeted, leaning forward to catch his eyes. “I saw you walking and thought we might walk the six flights down together. It's a long way to the bottom when you're alone.”

A shy smile graced his face and he nodded slowly. I stepped down and waited. He hesitantly eased his right foot out and let it drop to the next rest, allowing his left to carefully follow. And so it repeated until we reached the first landing. He timidly eyed the next step as we edged forward.

“I'm Rachel, by the way,” I grinned, holding my hand toward him.

“John,” he mumbled, eyes glued downward with his hand still fused to the railing.

I shrugged internally and stepped down to begin the next descent. He followed. 

“I remembered you from the elevator,” I spoke, breaking the unsettling noise of the failing light and constant drip, drip, drip to floors below. Another step down. “You're three doors down from me, I think. Where's the woman you're usually with?” 

He stopped and turned toward me, his eyes screaming and body rigid. “I...”

My face heated. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so nosey. We've only just met.” Backpedaling, I smiled shyly and started again. “So, umm, where do you work?”

It was like pulling teeth, but with each easy tug, he relaxed and opened up a little more. When we finally reached the bottom, the sight of daylight streaming through into the stairwell brought a slow sigh from his lips. His face brightened as we stepped out and the sun shimmered over his messy golden hair. We waved goodbye as we went our separate ways.

The next morning I caught up to him at the fifth floor entrance. After a short greeting, we descended to the sound of scattered chatter and echoing steps. Our mornings began the same for the rest of the week. 

On Monday, he was waiting for me at our entrance. His suit had been pressed and hair combed in attempt to tame its wild ways. As we started down the steps, I noticed his movements quickened. His knuckles remained white as he gripped the railing, but his feet were ready to move forward. Our conversation flowed easily and he cast his eyes toward me rather than toward the next drop.

When we reached the final step, I was so lost in chatter that I failed to notice the slick puddle underfoot. I stepped down and felt my pump slide forward as if on ice. My foot slid from under me as my body tumbled backward, but thankfully I only injured my pride. John acted just in time to catch my waist and break my fall. 

“Did you know,” I howled between giggles and embarrassment as I stood and reached out my hand, “that two-thirds of all falls on stairs happen on the first or last three steps?” 

He shook his head as he took my outstretched hand.

“Did you know,” he smiled while rising to his feet, “that thanks to you I have to go change my stinking wet pants?”

Our laughter echoed up the empty stairwell. 

“Thank you,” I grinned, wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my lips shyly on his cheek. 

After a sharp intake of breath, he sighed. “Thank you.” 

John squeezed my waist tightly and turned toward the stairs. I stepped back and picked up his discarded briefcase, dusting it off and handing it to him.

“Do you want me to walk with you?”

He waved me off. “No, I don't want you to be late. It'll only take a minute.”

I nodded. With a quick embrace, he turned and moved swiftly, taking the steps two at a time. As his footsteps drifted away, I smiled.

Upon return from work the next evening, there as a group huddled in front of the elevator. The light above the door descended: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. People packed into the small room like sardines, content to infiltrate one another's personal space just to avoid the sticky, moist stairwell. My heart sank when my mind drifted to John. What would happen to our mornings? Would he take the stairs? Wait for me by the elevator? Our morning chats would be significantly shortened with this new development.

A hand on my shoulder jarred me. “Hey there,” he smiled, messy mane blowing in the breeze. “Finally fixed, huh?”

“Yeah, finally,” I rolled my eyes.

The ding of the door opening caught my attention, urging us to enter the shiny square. I punched our floor and leaned against the wall with eyes closed.

“Long day?” he asked from my left.

“Always,” I snorted with a shrug.

A few seconds passed before I felt warm fingers lace with mine. My eyes opened slowly to see John's shy face redden.

“Is this ok?” His eyes widened as he started to withdraw his hand.

I squeezed tightly and inhaled his woody scent, a pleasant change from the musty stairwell. My smiling eyes met his. 

“Always.”

Ten Excuses I Use to Avoid Writing

The past few months have been very busy and writing has completely taken a back seat in my life. I always find an excuse to avoid writing. When I took a weekend trip to the lake, I read a book instead of working on my novel. Right now? I'm writing a blog post instead of becoming reacquainted with my characters. I am writing a blog post about avoiding writing instead of working on my novel. It makes little sense, but here's the thing: writing is hard. Writing takes time and effort and concentration. It's frustrating, infuriating, painstaking. It means taking a part of yourself and opening it to the world. Writers will find all sorts of reasons to avoid writing because it is all of the above.

At this point I could give you a single excuse for why I failed to revisit my fictional world tonight, but it wouldn't be truthful. There are always many reasons that writers such as myself avoid writing. They are often related yet separate issues that we use as justification for avoiding what we enjoy most...at least, when we finally sit down and do it.

The following are ten of the biggest excuses I use to justify to myself why I avoid writing.

 (This is a pretty good one, I think)

 __________________________________________

10. Work

I've worked all day and I just want to vegetate when I get home. This is one of my biggest excuses. Often my days are 9 to 12 hours long, with very few (if any) breaks. By the time I get home, I am fried and want to do nothing. Sure, I could write a few paragraphs or edit a previous chapter, but I've worked all day. That's a good excuse, right?

For those lucky enough to write for a living, this may not be a huge problem. For others, a regular 9 to 5 is necessary. After grinding the day away in a cubicle or on one's feet, work is the perfect, easy excuse.

9. Chores

I need to wash clothes. Make dinner. Walk the dog. Clean the house. Insert any daily or weekly chore and it can be used to avoid writing. Of course they're good reasons!  They have to be done.

The laundry must be done, no one wants a filthy house, and the family needs attention. After working all day or week, coming home to a laundry list of chores is an easy excuse to avoid writing.

8. Commitments

I promised _______ I would ________. Dinner and a movie with a spouse. After work cocktails with coworkers. Visiting family. Chauffeuring the kids. I can't turn every invitation down, can I? Sure, I don't really want to, but if I don't, I won't have a good excuse.

People in general tend to over commit without making time to take care of themselves. Writers are no different. Perhaps they're teaching a night class or freelancing for extra money. Sometimes it's time to care care of your own selfish wants and needs.

7. Distractions

Let me just finish this book, then I can clear my head and give my full attention. My favorite TV show is on tonight. Or (my own biggest) during the fall: it's college football season and my Saturdays are all about the pigskin.

It's easy to find a distraction when you finally sit down. They help us relax and entertain us. Everyone needs to relieve stress, but there's a difference between letting loose to decompress and seeking distractions to avoid the task at hand.

6. Slight of hand

I need to do some research. I'll just Google a few things. Search this database. Take a few notes. Oh, wait! I have an e-mail. Who's messaging me on Facebook? Back to the task at hand. Ugh, I'm not finding what I need. Haha. Look at that LOLCat.

Initial intentions are good, but you know well and good that you're not in the mood. You start out giving a little effort to really research what you need to make details come to life until there is some simple excuse to avoid the task all together. 

5. Uncertainty

I don't know if I like where this is going. I need to take a break and come back with a fresh mind. Do I really want to do that with this character? This isn't how I pictured it. Would readers even enjoy this? I'm not good enough. Could I handle negative comments if this stinks? Maybe I should stop. Now.

It's so easy to second guess everything you write. I don't think any writer could say that they don't desire to write a bestseller, to be successful. Yes, I write for myself because I have a story rattling around in my brain that needs to be told. It needs to be inked on paper for my sanity. On the other hand, I want everything I write to be good. To entertain. To be something I am proud of. The key is to not let that uncertainty hold you back.

4. Time

It's too late. If I start now, I'll never really get started. Or I'll be up all night writing. Or late for work. I still need to do this, this, and this, so if I write now, I'll never get it all done. The Walking Dead comes on in an hour. I don't have enough time to unwind after work. If I skip it tonight, I can go to bed early. I'll just make sure I write tomorrow.

Who ever has all the time they need or want in a day? Time always appears to fly by and leave us wondering where it all went. There is time to write if you make time to write.

3. Physical exhaustion

I'm too tired. Exhausted. I don't want to even move.

This excuse is that simple. After working all day or catching up on chores and commitments on the weekends, I am often just flat tired. I forget that a tired brain is more creative.

2. Mental exhaustion

Please be quiet. No, I don't want to chit chat about my day. I'll break my phone if it doesn't stop ringing. I need quiet. A few minutes to rest my brain. Some time to myself. Yes, a few hours all alone.

I call this an introvert's exhaustion. I am a very introverted person who is in a line of work that requires constant interaction and communication with other people. My phone's always ringing. People are in and out of my office every ten minutes. I get no quiet during those 9 to 12 hour work days unless I am just completely lucky or find a place to be a hermit...until my phone rings again. When I get home, I want nothing to do with human interaction until I've had a while to recharge. I am without a doubt that introvert who feels mental and physical exhaustion after too much social interaction. I could use this excuse every day of my life, but I know I need to channel that "me" time into my writing.

1. Writer's Block

I'm stuck. I don't know where to go from here. That was completely ridiculous [delete]. Why am I even trying? I know I've seen that cursor blink for an hour now.

I know many people may not agree with me on this, but I find I use writer's block as an excuse. When I have "writer's block" and sit staring blankly at my laptop screen, I know that it is because I just don't want to write. I'm not in the mood or in the right frame of mind.

__________________________________________

Writing is difficult. I have my own high standards to meet while hoping I am creating a work that others will appreciate and enjoy. I know that if I would just get started, it would flow just like it always does, but I don't want to start. I'm tired. I've worked all day. Aubie needs a bath. There's a game on. My brain's fried. I think I'll go to bed...I promise to write for a couple hours tomorrow.

Book Review: Ticker by Lisa Mantchev

After suffering much loss in past years, Penny Farthing and her family find themselves reeling from yet another blow: a family friend is on trial for murder, murder he claims he committed for Penny and the clockwork heart that saved her life. Penny's world quickly starts falling apart when the family's factory is bombed and her parents go missing. With her brother Nic and their close friends Violet and Sebastian, Penny and her failing ticker race to save her family before her clockwork heart finally runs out of time.

As a new entry in the steampunk genre, Ticker paints a fascinating world where mechanical butterflies are hot collectables, portraits of the dead are popular photography, and Augmented humans are all the rage-in more ways than one. Mantchev mixes petticoats and top hats with re-imagined technologies to take her readers on an exciting adventure full of elements that are suspiciously familiar and, at times, bone-chilling. Even more interesting is how heroine Penny retains her image as a proper 19th century lady while facing danger head on with guns and Pixii blazing.

Penny Farthing is not a particularly complicated character. Mantchev avoids much deep character development in favor of Penny's smart-mouthed and daring personality. She's both unafraid of death and terrified of it. Quick to put herself in danger, Penny still fears the malfunction of her ticker despite the many other perilous situations she willingly walks into. Supported by a cast of characters that are interesting in their own right, Penny doesn't have to be complex. In fact, her simplicity works well because the adventure through her world is so captivating.

Everything begins to unravel at the worst time for Penny. The mechanics keeping her blood pumping are slowly deteriorating to no one's surprise; after all, the clockwork heart installed years ago wasn't meant to work forever. The knowledge that any action could finally stop her heart for good both scares her and makes her more determined to sacrifice herself for those she loves. Living with the fact that her days are numbered is what makes Penny a fierce heroine who won't be stopped by anyone, from her overprotective brother to the commander of the security forces. When she comes face to face with the man that is her adversary and her savior, she doesn't back down from her principles which helps solidify the plot. Although the results of her quest are not shocking, her determination and daring keep the novel fresh and entertaining.

Some of the words Mantchev uses can be confusing, though I am not sure if this is due to being unfamiliar with the steampunk genre. On the other hand, much of the language is enticing and adds to the beauty of the novel. The dialogue and descriptions contribute to the full realization of this 19th century world. Even the relationships between male and female characters are proper and in line with the average reader's knowledge of the time period.

Lisa Mantchev's Ticker is well worth the read for readers of all ages and genre interests. The novel easily gets 4 out of 5 stars and has something for everyone: adventure, romance, humor, suspense. Readers looking for a fun, fast paced adventure should give this book a look. Available beginning December 1, 2014!

All book reviews on Solitary Spark are personal reviews of books I found for personal reading. I received nothing in exchange for this review.