Rear Balcony

There was an old movie made called "Rear Window" with James Stewart about a man who is recuperating and stuck at home with only the goings on he saw from his rear window to keep his mind occupied.  I sometimes have similar experiences from my "rear balcony" and thought it might make a cute story.

I'm a writer at heart if not from ability but I do love to write.  My problem is that I have no discipline and could never sit and write steady as is necessary to actually complete a novel.  I'm also scared to death of rejection and that's why I blog.  Read it or not, I won't know and I won't know if you like what I wrote.

Anyway, back to "rear balcony".  My apartment balcony faces a lovely ravine to the left and parking lots of three buildings (one my own) to the right.  I first thought I'd ignore looking to the right as much as possible and concentrate on the lovely scenery to my left but then life happened.

No, I've never witnessed a possible murder out there but I've seen one ridiculous screaming argument between two drunken women in the parking lot...the "F" word was used at least every second word.  I've watched various dumpster divers, all men dressed nicely so they weren't street people.  I've watched what looked like a set up meeting between 3 neighborhood cats in the ravine and could make out which one was the dominant male, which was the horny female, and which was the junior who knew enough to keep it's distance.

I've watched many, many neighbors taking their dogs out for a poop and noticed the only ones who didn't scoop were the ones with dogs that did their business in the bushes.  I've seen young teen girls meeting and talking in a circle just like teen girls have always done.

A true writer has the ability to take small incidents like this and weave a whole story around it.  I think I could do that but I'm not sure I want to.  It's enjoyable to me to just watch, weave, and blog without committing to hours/days/weeks of actually writing a novel about it.

I'm a people watcher and I do love the eccentrics most of all.  There is a sweet little old lady in my building who must have been beautiful when she was young.  Now she's withered with age but she still covers her face with makeup, dark lipstick, and pencil painted eyebrows that make her appear constantly surprised.  Old ladies don't start doing that when they're old.  It's a holdover from their youth and they mistakenly think it still makes them look good.  I often wonder what her life was like when she was young...I'm going to imagine she was an actress.

Now the screaming, arguing, foul mouthed ladies are easy to make up a story about.  They were at a bar where each lady went dressed to attract (that's what ladies do who go to bars) even though they both were with their own man.  One lady thought the other was getting too friendly with the wrong man and declared war.  Dirty looks became subtle words which became screaming curses.  The men played innocent...as they always do.

I loved watching those cats.  They came from 3 different directions all at the same time and took up their positions in a small clearing.  I could write for ages about what I imagine their little lives to be like.  Each would live in homes but wander the hills, dales, and streets every day and have one adventure after another.  Junior would one day become fully grown and steal the trampy female from the old cat.

Gosh, I could write a book if I only had some discipline!