The Automatic Writer’s Art of Shaking Hands

I am a nervous girl. The flush of my face has always given me away, but lately, it’s the tremor in my hands.

There is usually a tiny shiver running through my bandwidth, tippy-tapping out a body hum across the air. Perhaps its a call to the keyboard, a subconscious type, my muse breaking wind.

My daughter once asked why the air never gets colored when she runs her markers across its invisible face. Imagine what we’d see if it did. I imagine my fingers doing the same, typing out words on the air, watching them escape like warm breath in winter.

The tapping flutter is a thing passed down from my grandmother–head and hands in almost perfect motion. These days, even Ma keeps her signature to herself if she can help it. And what a thing that is–a woman who kept a vaunting pride in her script shirking it away, defaulting on a scrawl.

In the last year or two, my hands have betrayed my confidence too many times. I hide them in my lap. In my pockets. Gripped in my husband’s palm.

There is no shame in a body taking to its ancestral wiring. It’s almost primal. A filial ley line.

There is no shame, but I could do without.

To this end, I have given up caffeine: O’ joyous, caffeine, most precious saint, I denounce thee. (There are times you already know what the doctor will say, so do the work early.)

I have given up caffeine and rested accordingly. I took an entire week off writing. I slept in until the children drove me from my dreams and plopped me right in the middle of the here and now.

It has been a fairly dark week.

Today, I’m waking up, making goals, and writing down. I’d like to get some Throw Me Thursday action going, but I’m not sure how you feel about that. I need your help there.

So, what do you think? What games do you want to play? Can you handle decaf? Or what makes you shimmy shiver?


About E. Victoria Flynn

E. Victoria Flynn is a mother and a writer living in Southern Wisconsin. Published in a variety of venues, Victoria is currently writing the first in a series of three fantasy novels based on Cornish folklore. When not taking part in a shrieking dance party or engrossed in her own little fictions, Victoria is keen on art, the natural world and people unafraid to explore their own brilliance.
This entry was posted in coffee, Grandmothers, mother, Throw me Thursday, truth, Weird. Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to The Automatic Writer’s Art of Shaking Hands

  1. I don’t drink coffee of any sort … I missed out on a few scoops when I worked as a journalist. I’ve been busy looking at goals and plans for 2012. Seems like I’ve been thinking more than writing. Good luck.

  2. Firstly, the title of this post is a title I want to steal for a poem that I want to write but will probably not get to. Second, my condolences for the giving up of caffeine. You have my admiration. Lately I’m afraid I’m getting a little addicted to melatonin. So, throwme’s? Addictions? Shaking? Boy, I could write a lot about how interested I am about the Shaker religion….shake shake shake!

  3. Beth Hoffman says:

    Ahhh, kindred spirits we are, Victoria. After years of feeling the tremors of my own private volcano, I said farewell to caffeine. It was an easier goodbye than I could have dreamed. Only now and then do I feel a stirring at the fault line of my core. And I’m OK with that.

    As for Throw me Thursday, hmmm … perhaps Farewells, or maybe Sleep?

  4. I’m making plans for 2012 and looking forward to seeing my children at Christmas. I’m part of the new Writers Community of Simcoe County in Ontario and excited about some of the wonderful speakers we have coming to our lunches. Life is good. Write your Vision!

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