I grew up in Minnesota, the Land of 10,000 Lakes. When I was a kid we had a lake cabin we would visit every summer for a couple of weeks of waterskiing, swimming, mosquito-swatting, and fishing.

Minnesota is also a land of thunderstorms. It’s flat enough that you can usually see the clouds building and there’s a certain darkness that means a storm is on its way.

(thanks to laeste on sxc.hu)

One day as the dark clouds headed our way, Dad told me to go down to the boat to put away the fishing poles and raise the boat on the lift. By the time I got to the dock, the wind was already starting to pick up. I cranked the lift so the boat was completely out of the water and then hopped in to stow the fishing lines and put the poles down in the bottom of the boat.

As I tightened the line on a pole, I must have turned it just right because the line begin to hum in the wind. The sound was so eerie and fascinating that I held the pole up and just listened. Finally I hunkered down in the boat so the wind wasn’t actually blowing in my ears while holding the fishing pole up into the wind like an antenna (or lightning rod).

I found that by pulling on the line, I could change the pitch of the sound even as the capricious wind changed the volume and occasionally drew different harmonics out of the line. I think the sound and the dark skies of the coming storm combined to mesmerize me. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, “playing” my fishing pole wind harp. It probably wasn’t that long since I’m sure it started raining not long after, but those minutes stuck with me.

Years later, I heard Garrison Keillor on “A Prairie Home Companion” tell a story about a harpist who set her electric harp on an outdoor stage and just let the wind play for the audience. Hearing that story brought up the memory of my fishing pole wind harp. Being in the time of Google, I did some searching and found out that wind harps have been around for a long time.

Re-creation, ~1870 Aeolian harp

It turns out wind harps were also known as Aeolian harps, so named for Aeolus, Greek god of wind. Apparently already known in the ancient world, they are described in writing as early as the 17th century.

In my searches, I found that many others before me had spontaneously “discovered” wind harps by happening upon anything from telegraph lines to dried sinew stretched across a turtle shell catching the wind. So, it seems my fascination with the sound is not unique.

Apparently the popularity of wind harps had its heyday in 19th century Europe, but they can still be found today in forms ranging from small window-box harps to large installations.

wind harp installation

Have you ever encountered a wind harp? What was your experience of it?

“What were you thinking?” Ryan asked. “If you were going to abandon these story snippets, why wouldn’t you at least go to twenty? Nineteen is just so…odd.”

Kelly appeared calm as she took a sip of her coffee, but Ryan could hear the tension in her voice as she said, “Do you know how hard it is to come up with a new story beginning every week? You make it sound so easy. You should do number twenty!” She set her cup down, splashing some of the precious liquid onto the table. “If we weren’t in this coffee shop, I’d cuff you upside the head, you bastard.”

Ryan held up his hands. “Whoa! Take it easy. I didn’t mean… Um, is something going on with you?”

Kelly sighed and said, “It’s just

— from Eve —

..they’re starting to come for me. ‘Starting’ ha! Oh, god, that’s not even funny.” Kelly’s cracked composure fully disintegrated. Ryan looked nervously around the coffee shop, hoping no one was noticing, or worse, speculating about why his girlfriend was beginning to cry. “They always blame the guy” he thought.

“Kelly, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she almost wailed.

“Honey, babe, what is it? What are you talking about ‘coming for you’?”

“The Starts.”

“What?”

“The Starts. You know I love the Story Starts. Don’t they know I love them? They are so full of possibilities, so open. But they want more. At first they just nagged me a little. ‘Oh, please can’t you define me a little more? What becomes of me?’ But now….”

“But now?”

“They’re like zombies.”

“Zombies?!”

“Alive but not fully formed. Not able to die once they’re started. And now they’ve starting coming for me. They won’t leave me alone. But they’re only starts! They’re not good enough for a whole story. And even if they are,” Kelly’s voice rose in panic, “I can’t write 19 novels!”

“Honey, it’s just writing. It’s fictional. This is just in your head. They are just in your head.”

Just then a young man approached their table. He was clean cut, suit, tie. He seemed slightly out of place in the casual neighborhood coffee hangout. “Excuse me,” he said, sitting down with no invitation. “You have to help me, Kelly.”

“Who are you?” Ryan asked.

“Don’t you recognize him?” Kelly asked. “He’s Mark from story start number seven!”

— from Random —

“Mark? But I thought Eddie was in story start seven!” Ryan said.

The young man glared at Ryan. “I am Eddie in the story, but my real name is Mark. Obviously Kelly changed my name to ‘protect the innocent’,” Mark said, miming air quotes.

Kelly nodded and said, “Right, you were going to an interview with your lips still numb from Novocaine. How did that go for you, by the way?”

“You tell me!” Mark shouted, prompting several others in the coffee shop to look up.

“Oh, right,” Kelly said. “Duh.”

“Look, it’s not about the interview, okay,” Mark said. “All us characters, we’ve been living in limbo and our stories are merging. That’s what I’m here to tell you.”

Ryan shook his head, feeling as if this were a dream.

Kelly said, “The stories are merging? What do you mean?”

“I started meeting the characters from your other stories. That’s how I learned that I was in only one of nineteen unfinished worlds. Now they’re all here. Mick, Karen, Marcus, two Jims and two Andrews. Everyone. And they’re all pissed. We’re all pissed.”

“God, I had no idea! I’m so sorry,” Kelly said.

“I know you meant well. That’s why I’ve been siding with you, but all the others, they’re not as forgiving. In fact, that’s why I’m here, to warn you that they’re planning to…

Yep, it’s the Return of the Story Start. Just for the hell of it. Feel free to add to this story starting where I left off.

(You might want to read more about these silly story starts. Or you might not. How could I know? I’m not you.)

As I’ve found myself thinking and writing about improv, it has made me wonder if I ought to create a dedicated blog for that purpose.

Random Says was always intended to be eclectic. I’ve gravitated to some topics, like cemeteries and writing games, but I’ve also tossed other posts into the mix. Improv, though, might end up being a larger topic.

What do you think, dear reader? Comments? Suggestions?

Before I list my own reflections, I’d like to invite you to add any comments sharing your own experience of reading my takes on the letters. One thing I so liked about this challenge is how it got me writing more frequently. It makes me wonder if readers thought that was a good thing, or a not-so-good thing.

But, enough procrastinating!

What I discovered

• I found myself fascinated by the letters and words themselves so the challenge became almost a celebration of language.
• My tendency to be interested in many different things and to be indecisive carried over into this challenge.
• I discovered some new words I either had not heard of or that I had never learned the meaning of.
• I can, if need be, pull together posts more often than I usually do.
• I have improv on the brain.

What I liked

• Taking on a challenge to post most days of the month gave me a structure that got me writing much more frequently than usual.
• The game of going through the alphabet is a simple and fun idea.
• I actually learned things in the process of writing some of the posts, whether it was learning a new word or discovering something about myself.
• I like when things go to unexpected places and that happened a number of times.
• It was cool to know a lot of other people were in the same boat.
• I really liked the random blog (“Surprise Me!”) button that some people added to their page so I could visit a random sampling of other blogs.
• The challenge was well-organized with great support.
• I was impressed with how many people took on (and completed) this challenge. (Good job, everyone!)

What I liked not so much

• I quickly noticed that many of the participating blogs were oriented around certain topics (like Young Adult fiction) that I did not necessarily relate to.
• There were so many participant blogs to visit that I found it overwhelming. I think it would have been nice to have them listed by blog theme or emphasis.
• I didn’t feel I received many visitors or comments.
• The random blog (“Surprise Me!”) button was not set up for a self-hosted WordPress blog. I know I could have done more research into what it would take to adapt it, but I chose not to.
• Since many of the participant blogs were hosted on Blogger, I ran into quite a few cases where leaving comments was a pain. When I have to comment as either a WordPress.com or Blogger user, or use some other system I’m not hooked into, I hesitated (or outright refused) to leave a comment. While I have blogs set up on both WordPress.com and Blogger, they are inactive and I didn’t want my comments pointing back to them.

Overall I was very glad I participated in this challenge. It was actually fun to play the game. It was also more time-consuming than I expected. Between coming up with a take on each letter, writing the post, finding graphics and maintaining the discipline to post nearly every day, I found myself putting more energy into this blog than ever before.

Then there was the time it took to visit other participants and add comments. That was a great way to discover and explore other blogs, and it was fun to see the variety of takes on the challenge. Many people had chosen a theme they followed for the whole challenge. I could see how that would be a good way to make the collection of posts more coherent, but I was glad I had no theme because it meant each day was an adventure in seeing where I would go with the letter of the day.

Fire. It doesn't have to be scary.

I’m a worrier. My mom is a worrier, and frankly, I blame her for my worrierness. (Thanks, Mom.) I remember one night when I was maybe five, Mom saw some kids smoking cigarettes behind a neighbor’s house. She was all freaked out because she saw them lighting matches, and I remember cowering by Mom as I imagined the whole neighborhood being set on fire.

As an adult, I’ve noticed a sad sort of creativity to my worries. When I took voice lessons for a short time, my teacher had her students perform at an open mic. At a rehearsal the week before the performance, all us nervous newbies were taking turns singing our songs. One of my fellows tried to put things in perspective and said, “What’s the worse that could happen?” I said, “We could be so nervous that we lock our knees (a no-no I remember being harped on in high school marching band), pass out and fall forward, impaling ourselves on the microphone stand.”

Once I was early for an appointment and I sat in my car, reading as I waited. My shoes were uncomfortable so I untied the shoelaces to loosen them up. Then it dawned on my how dangerous that was because, if there was an earthquake and I had to jump out of the car to run for cover, I might trip on the shoelaces, knock myself unconscious on the blacktop, and be squashed beneath a light pole knocked over during the quake.

Heartburn becomes a heart attack; a headache becomes a tumor.

It could become a sort of game. I’m writing this post now, and what’s the worst that could happen?

I spill my coffee on the keyboard (a tragedy in itself because, y’know, it’s a waste of coffee) and jump up to quickly get a towel before it ruins my expensive gaming keyboard… I trip over a cat and fall on the floor, hard. The downstairs neighbor gets pissed, comes upstairs and pounds at my door. I’m a little groggy from the fall, so I answer the door and the neighbor punches me in the face. The cats attack him, claw out his eyes and hideously disfigure him. Not wanting the cats to be taken away and put down, I am left with no choice but to kill the neighbor, cut him up and discard his remains, living with the guilt for the rest of my life.

Or…

I spill coffee on the keyboard and, by a one in a bazillion fluke, it sends a perfect sequence of electrical signals to my computer, writing the ultimate virus and somehow sending it to every email address that has ever existed — past, present and future — thus disseminating an accidental piece of code that ends up bringing all the world’s computer systems to their knees. Chaos ensues.

Or…

This is a re-post of something I wrote for a previous iteration of this blog. I have it from a reliable source that it’s okay to plagiarize myself, but just in case, I granted myself permission, so I think I’m covered.

I was inspired to re-post this when I read Hippie Cahier’s Xena Worrier Princess on X-day. It’s because of her post that I now have nightmares about Merle Unger and worry about Tuesday morning drunks. Thanks, Hipster.

Tempting though it is to do a recap here, I’ll wait until the “official” Blogging from A to Z Reflections Post, which will be on May 7.

Meanwhile, I’ll resume my regularly scheduled programming. Starting tomorrow.

Between its significance as a number and the shape of its symbol, zero is a pretty rich topic. A few years ago, a conversation with a friend got me thinking about zero as a concept. That led me to do a free-flow list of terms that come to mind when I think of the word:

Zip naught aught nada nothing goose-egg false no none circle infinity
Japanese fighter plane skunk new origin start neutral center point dot
nowhere never impossible lose loser blank empty wheel anomaly
spent ring eye Oh! opening binary close bagel doughnut okay love

The conversation also led me to read the book* Zero: The Biography of a Dangerous Idea by Charles Seife. Prior to coming across the book, I never would have dreamed the humble zero could warrant an entire book. Maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised considering that, mathematically speaking, zero is only a reciprocal away from infinity.

Is it any wonder, then, that I’m uncertain how to do this amazing critter justice?

Rather than sweat it, I’ll do what I’ve been doing. I’ll punt. Here are a few zero-inspired tidbits.

In many tarot decks, 0 is the number associated with The Fool. It’s the only card connected with zero. The Fool usually has the flavor of beginning anew. You math lovers will remember that 0,0 is the origin in the Cartesian coordinate system. That fits in that The Fool is associated with innocence, starting a journey, or even being born. (Of course, there’s much more to the card than that.)

Now that I think about it, this all reminds me of the idea of beginner’s mind from Zen Buddhism. The state of zero can be that of a clearing or space into which something might come into being. I almost want to say that zero contains within it the space of infinite potential, but I haven’t thought that one through. Maybe it just sounds cool.

Finally, when I consider zero as a number, I remember how people used to refer to the first years of the twentieth century like “back in aught-nine.” (No, I’m not old enough to have actually used that, though I guess it could apply to 2009, right?)

It turns out aught is kind of interesting. In my trusty American Heritage Dictionary, there are two separate entries for aught. The first defines aught as “anything whatever.” The second entry defines aught as “A cipher; zero” but also contains an archaic definition, “nothing.”

How cool is that? Aught is anything or nothing. Okay, I’m taking major liberties here, but it’s Z-day, so maybe you can cut me some slack.

—–

* I recommend checking out the book. It’s fairly short, and it’s a fascinating history of this number we take for granted.

Yes! You may go.

Saying yes may be the most fundamental “principle” in improv.

In beginning classes students are often taught to always say yes, suggesting that to say no is to keep a scene from moving forward. As with many “rules” in any art form, that isn’t strictly true, but saying “yes” is an excellent practice.

After doing improv for years, I’ve seen there are multiple levels of “yes” going on all the time. One level involves literally saying “yes” or at least giving a positive response to my partner. For example:

A: Honey, I quit my job today. I thought you should know.

B: That’s great dear! Now you can work on your writing full-time.

Another level involves saying yes to myself and all that implies. Saying “yes” is about having the confidence or courage to step onto the stage. This internal “yes” encompasses trust in myself, my partner, the audience, and the wellspring of ideas just waiting for me to tap into it.

Then there’s saying yes to my partner, but at a deeper level than the literal sense I mentioned at the beginning. This yes is about being there for my partner. That means listening to them, and trusting them and their ideas.

It also means saying yes to the reality created by their offers. Let me give a couple of examples where this isn’t done.

A: Janet, I’m really excited about this whole bank robbery scheme.

B: What bank robbery scheme? Have you been daydreaming again?

Or,

A: I’ve got the picnic basket packed and suntan lotion on. Let’s get to the beach!

B: In this rain? No way.

In each case, B has stomped on A’s offer by saying “no” to it and essentially negating everything to that point. Compare those responses to these:

A: Janet, I’m really excited about this whole bank robbery scheme.

B: I know! And guess what? We got Nelson on board. Best getaway driver in the biz!

Or,

A: I’ve got the picnic basket packed and suntan lotion on. Let’s get to the beach!

B: Awesome! I read that it’s going to be the lowest tide in fifty years!

Lame examples though these may be, I hope you can see how these second versions have more energy and are already on their way somewhere. The first versions are essentially still at square one.

I think it’s this level of “yes” that is the key to the magic that is possible in improv. By the simple act of agreeing with an offer, we validate it and say, “yeah, let’s play with that and see where it takes us.” It might not fit what we preconceived, and it may not seem very promising, but two players saying “yes” to each other almost always leads somewhere interesting.

When we say no, whether to ourselves or our partners, it’s our fears working to make sure nothing happens. It’s a way of keeping ourselves from jumping into the unknown, the uncomfortable. To me the practice of saying “yes” in improv is deeply cool.

In what ways do you say yes?

So few words start with X, it’s tempting to cheat and pick a word that starts with the sound of X, like exit. But, I don’t want to do that. Instead of using an actual X-word, though, I find myself thinking of other ways X is used (beyond marking the spot on a treasure map).

X is commonly used in algebra as an independent variable. One way of looking at that is X is a stand-in for a number that we get to choose. Or, it’s a stand-in for something unknown or undetermined. The tagline for this blog was “Something about X” (as in, Random Says…something about X) which means the topic I, Random, write about is whatever I decide to plug into X.

The point is, X seems to have a sort of undefined quality about it. Even mystery. Mr. X evokes an image of a mystery man, someone who wants to remain hidden.

Then we have X as a sort of blocking or crossing out. I remember on “The Family Feud,” a wrong answer resulted in a big red X being flashed along with an annoying buzzing sound. X is a bit like a big symbolic No! Could that be where X-rated comes from?

X looks a lot like Redrum

Finally, X is used as a sort of odd shorthand for groupings of letters. It may make some sense to replace crossing with x-ing since x is a sort of cross. And maybe that helps explain how Christmas is sometimes shortened to Xmas. But what about Rx (prescription or recipe, receive), Dx (diagnosis, distance) and Tx (transmit)?

Seems as if we’re back to X as a variable. Maybe from now on I’ll just start writing the first letter of a word and then use X to replace the rest of it. Dx yx tx tx wx wx? Maybe not.

X may not play a big role in starting words, but it makes up for that by being versatile in all sorts of other ways. I for one am glad X exists.

I’ll leave you with this. X is letter number XXIV. And that means only II letters left!

Who cares? What does it matter? When will I choose? Where am I? Why is W so key in questions?

Since I’ve already written about questions, I guess I ought to go with something else this time.

When I was a kid, I accidentally made a wind harp out of a fishing pole. I forgot about it until I heard Garrison Keillor tell a story on Prairie Home Companion where a young harpist put an electric harp on an outdoor stage and let the wind play it.

That prompted me to do some research and I found that wind harps (or aeolian harps) have been around for a long time. They come in all shapes and sizes and for whatever reason, the sound they make fascinates me.

So, W is for Wind Harps. I’ll write more about them another day. For now I’ll leave you with a short recording of a wind harp, and a video shot at A Sound Garden* in Seattle.

* A Sound Garden does not use wind harps for the sounds, but rather pipes. There’s a similar quality to the sound, though. And yes, A Sound Garden was the inspiration for the name of the band, Soundgarden.