Girl, seven, sits on a swing, scuffling the sand with her toes. She is too young to know how to strike a match. She isn’t lonely or alone. She’s writing a story in her imagination, writing as she always does, by sifting through ideas before she commits word one to lined paper. Like, what would happen to a kid who couldn’t find the way home? Or, why would a girl spend a found dollar on paints when her dress is so outgrown that the sleeves pinch her arms? And, how does that boy plan to sneak the puppy into his bedroom, and what does the little fella eat? The problems mount for each character, the resolutions are not obvious. At seven, little agonies generate tears, and fixing things means happily ever after. Figuring it all out takes a lot of toe scuffling. In her stories the world eventually brightens though not without a fight.
The girl, older now than seven by decades, sifts through ideas, not usually on a swing. Perhaps she walks in the cool dampness of early morning or keeps company with the night’s owls, yielding the private moments to think story. So many jobs and hobbies after second grade, so many relationships past, thoughts penned, discarded, elaborated on. A life built, sloppy and rich as most, with family, friendships, education, careers, community experiences and others too private to share.
Story comes from all of it. Like, what happens to people cast in situations not of their choice? What if they lack the skill or fortitude to change? Characters journey through sorrow, illness, joy, despair, loss, injustice, betrayal, wonder, secrecy, and victory. They fall into pits that sever the earth and survive gashes that rend the heart. They encounter incidents that construct insurmountable prisons or climb scaffolds built of noble endeavors. They wrestle the devil incarnate and ordinary folk. They confront the dross in their own marrow and weep at their trifling impact on all things of value. Characters in her stories live because the girl has lived.
At a moment of duress or an indeterminate crossroads, during a national crisis or personal juncture, the character manifests, a hero perhaps or a cad with a quest. He encounters crises, makes a critical decision, defeats the devil, changes the course of events, emerges a better person who has impacted the world in a positive way or a fool who’s learned nothing. The character is not afraid and will suffer defeat or triumph.
The girl on the swing is still writing, sometimes in her head, usually on a computer, lined paper long ago discarded. She stands in the darkest pit of the earth, alone but not lonely, pulls out the stub of a candle, and finally knows how to strike the match. In her stories the world brightens though not without a fight. Here is born Sharon Bonin-Pratt’s Ink Flare. I welcome you on my journey through story, sparked by words. And so it begins.
Photo of my brilliant oldest granddaughter courtesy Pratt family archives
Comments on: "The Birth of Ink Flare" (28)
I love your writing Shari! This article definitely roped me in, and I can’t wait to read more!!!! Mazal tov!
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Thank you. You are the first person to comment.
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Good job! You are an excellent writing and I look forward to reading more from you.
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Thank you, your comment is much appreciated. Hope I fulfill your expectations.
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Hi Shari,
This is so awesome – I can’t wait to read more. Please let me know what to do. I will click on register and see where it takes me. Long time no see – love you lots..Sheri Clements
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Thank you for the lovely comment. I think you are following my blog and will receive new posts as they appear.
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Lovely! Just lovely!
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Thank you, Linda, your comment means a great deal to me.
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What a great start, Shari! I can’t wait to see where you take this.
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Thank you, Jacqui. This wouldn’t have happened without your generous help.
I am so grateful.
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So glad you came by my site today which led to my journey here. i just know I am going to like it!
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Thank you, Joan, I am honored that you’ll be following me.
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Dear Shari, As a co-teacher,friend and admiring fan,love your blog….congrats Joan Karvwr
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Thank you, Joanie, I am so glad you like it. You’ve always been so supportive and I treasure it.
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Mazal Tov Shari. Your writing is as picturesque as your paintings. Love to read more.
I’ll send your blog to my granddaughter who aspires to be a writer. Todah Rabbah.
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Thank you, Isa, such a sweet comment. If you click on Follow at the top of this blog in the black line area, you will receive every blog post as they are posted. Look forward to hearing more from you.
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Congrats, Shari! I look forward to following your journey.
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Hi Ilene, So nice to have a fellow writer along on the ride. At this point I plan to post on Mondays and Tuesdays, so keep a lookout. Thank you, looking forward to blogging.
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I’m impressed by your launch and really enjoyed this post. Keep it up!
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Thank you, Diana. I’m glad you liked it.
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Shari — Great start! I loved the little girl on the swing. And I’m anxious to read more of her grown up thoughts. As usual — your writing is lyrical and lovely.
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Thank you, Carol, she will be back, growing up still. Maybe a bit wiser along the way.
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That’s it exactly. Nice new website!
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Thank you for that sweet comment. It’s a challenge somewhat open to chance to inaugurate a new website – a bit like investing in a hedge fund.
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Magic wrings forth when you put words to typeset. Wonder looms for the reader. We become enchanted and yearn for more. We see ourselves, bewildered that you have words for those items we have searched to find a brush to paint upon our own canvas. Somehow we dialed your number and you answered.
A privilege and a joy to discover your landscape, we unite knowing someone else finds the words when they fail us.
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I am touched by your note to me. I am very new to writing a blog and this experience is a little daunting. Thank you for your kind support and for the words that boost my courage.
Your blog has moved me much the same way. I love opening your posts, staring at those loaves, perfectly baked, goods so different from anything I can find in the store. I can nearly smell them on my side of the fence.
We can perhaps be a mutual admiration society, each appreciative of the other’s skills.
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you write words and images spring to life. thank you for sharing your magic with us.
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I’m so happy you’ve enjoyed this post. Please come visit again.
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