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I’m a proponent of the belief that every experience contributes priceless raw material to a writer’s treasure chest. I’m a hoarder, cramming the niches of my brain with sensory inputs, emotional extremes, and reams of interesting and often useless information. No detail is too small, especially if it is painful or gross.
My husband’s back is on the fritz, so this morning I made my first solo trek to the town dump. Not a chore I anticipated with delight, I adjusted my mindset and used it as an experience-gathering expedition, adding several disgusting sensory inputs to my writing stockpile.
There are a few things you should know in order to fully appreciate this literary endeavor:
- It’s January in Oregon. That means it’s raining.
- Due to a series of unplanned mix-ups and timing obstacles, my husband hasn’t been to the dump in six months.
- Our trashcans are missing lids, having blown away during his previous dump trips (no comment).
- The back of our pick-up truck is full of logs.
After two cups of coffee, I don my wool hat, an old pair of mittens, a ratty coat, and my sneakers (a mistake). I clamber into the back of the pick-up, and start pitching logs over the side. My mittens are soaked within thirty seconds, and though I try to lift with my legs, my back is now whining like a teenager. Despite my freezing fingers, I’ve worked up a sweat and my wool hat is itchy on my forehead. As I kick a forty-pound log off the tailgate, I contemplate all the miserable discomfort I’ll subject my characters to and conjure up a few choice words for husbands that I stash away for future literary reference.
With the truck empty, I skirt the log pile and slog over to the trashcans. They’re lined up against a tall retaining wall with a mountain of trash bags piled on top of them. This was hubby’s solution to critters, which was not entirely effective, I might add. The top bags aren’t overly nasty, and half of them are bulging with stuff for recycling. I sling the lighter recycling into the truck bed and then lug the rest like a yoked peasant with no hope for a better life. Such is the back-breaking toil my villagers will endure for their cruel masters. The conditions will be dismal—wet, filthy, and cold.
Now, I’ve unearthed the cans and, of course, the bags of rotted garbage are submerged (no lids, remember). They’ve been stewing in a fetid swill for months. I tip the cans over and the brown water pours out with a ripe stench that makes my head spin. It’s swamp water with half-decomposed bodies, the reek of a medieval midden heap. Thank goodness, it’s not summer or everything would be crawling with maggots and swarming with flies. I gag and breathe through my mouth.
The water-logged bags are bloated pigs and weigh a ton. I stab them with a pointed stick. Putrid water bursts out, drenching my sneakers. Lacking a choice, I heave them up with my soaked mittens. They leak and dribble on my jeans. Not caring anymore, my brain numb to the horror, I grunt as I heft them to the tailgate. I’m a slave in the dank sewers outside the castle walls. I reek of death and drowning. Foul water splatters and pools in the truck bed. My poor characters are going to despise me.
The F350 is our chore truck, driven far less than our cars. I climb in and the distinctive odor of mouse shit assaults my nose. Somewhere—in the seat cushion probably—a comfy little mouse family is waiting out the winter. To my core, I know the turds are lethal, but I make the ultimate sacrifice for the king of the castle and head to the dump. The truck smells so gross I roll down the windows for the ten-mile ride to town. Rain blows in with a stinging wind, but I bravely endure it over the stink. And I’ll remember this for when my protagonists hunker down in an old lean-to, thankful to suffer the icy drafts over the reek of vermin as they labor to rid the realm of evil.
Then, I arrive at the dump…
Myths of the Mirror 
Reblogged this on Notes from An Alien and commented:
Lovely re-blog today — it’s both writing advice and a very good story 🙂
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Thanks so much for the reblog, Alexander. I have fortunately avoided any additional forays into the grossness of garbage. 🙂
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Oh my, I hope for the sake of your characters, and you my friend, that you get to sit in front of a nice warm fire with a beverage of your choice.
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Thanks for reading, Bernadette. We’re having a very snowy winter for the Northwest, so no recent dump disasters and lots of sitting by the fire and drinking tea! ❤
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I’m wondering why, if it had waited this long, this job couldn’t have waited a bit longer–for a non-rainy day or better yet, until your husband’s back was better. Wouldn’t have made half so good a story, though. I was actually sorry we didn’t get to share the dump experience!
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The hubby’s back was in bad shape and he ended up being out of work for about 10 months. So no waiting. Otherwise, believe me, I would have! The dump experience had a few funny moments too, but not nearly as gross. 😀 Thanks so much for the visit!
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My husband was an artist who loved to go to the dump to scavenge. One day we saw our neighbors as we were heading out of our mountain lane and they were driving in. We stopped to chat for a minute and asked them where they were coming from. They said they were on their way back from the dump. Bob said, “Oh! What did you go to get?” They looked puzzled and said, “We went to dump off our garbage!!!” Ha. Different folks…….
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Ha ha ha ha! What a great story. My parents were like that. Their oak dining room table and chairs were dump finds. They had them their whole lives and passed them on to my brother. 🙂
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While I am *truly* sorry to read about your husbands misfortune, I am thinking much more kindly of him as I do so. I broke off an engagement with a man who could have been the inspiration for the story above, after realizing that it was a symptom of a MUCH larger problem.
It is beautifully written, which I always expect from your posts – but my stomach clinched as I moved along. I am probably one of your few readers who has actually “been there, done that.”
I clicked over from the Senior Salon, btw, and am sending healing thoughts — to both of you!
xx,
mgh
(Madelyn Griffith-Haynie – ADDandSoMuchMORE dot com)
ADD Coach Training Field founder; ADD Coaching co-founder
“It takes a village to transform a world!”
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Thanks, Madelyn. Backs take a long time to heal, and though he’ll never be 100%, it’s improved with PT, injections, and daily massages from moi. 🙂 This garbage incident was two years ago and he’s back on trash duty. Yay!
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Wonderful to hear it. I truly sympathize.
My own back went out twice – the first as the result of a activities surrounding a sudden and unfortunate move, and the second for no reason I can fathom — the day before I was supposed to leave to speak at a conference – six hours by car!
Neither of mine were as severe as your husband’s, thank God, and I was able to soldier on in a back brace. Though I’m sure I seemed to have aged several decades to anyone who watched me shuffle along. 🙂
God bless the chiropractic profession!
xx,
mgh
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Backs are tough, and once injured, they seem to go out again with less of a trigger (muscle memory). I’m glad yours only got you twice. Stay healthy!
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Thanks. You too – both of you.
xx,
mgh
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A magnificent story that made me chuckle as it stirred such a large number of recollections of comparative encounters. Yes, magnificent pictures to mesh into your future works.
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Thanks so much for visiting and reading. The ripe smells were the most memorable and they will undoubtedly turn up in future writing 🙂
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If I’d had to do this it would have constituted two year’s worth of favours. I hope you got your reward. On the plus side, it’s a lot better than some of the dystopian trash I’ve read before.
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Ha ha ha. I get to stay home and write, Tara, so the occasional grossness in support of the hubby’s well being is worth it 😀 Glad my dystopian trash meets your expectations. Too funny. 🙂
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Quite the epic adventure you embarked upon…
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Ha ha Thanks, it was epic, indeed 😀
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I’ve had to deal with a festering bin before but that was only festering for a week or so. I literally gagged along with this post. I hope you burnt the trainers!
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The smells get me more than anything else, Sacha. Totally gag-worthy. Ha ha. It will come in handy in my fantasy worlds. 🙂 Have a great week!
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Ha! That is so gross. I’m sorry. 😀 (Don’t I look sorry?) But this: “every experience contributes priceless raw material to a writer’s treasure chest.” Yes, that. It’s SO true.
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It was totally gross, Sarah. And this account is not exaggerated. I will never forget the smells – horrid! Yech! Ha ha. Thanks for reading and I’m glad you got a laugh out of it!
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I did. And I hope you can get some good, stinky use out of this. Whatever scene you put this in will be brilliant.
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UGH. You are a much braver woman than I. My choice is none of my characters will ever go to the dump. 🙂
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Ha ha ha ha. Too funny. Mine visit the “pits” or the “trenches” – so this came in handy. Thanks for reading about my foray into grossness. 🙂
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LOL… though an unpleasant experience, it certainly is a dumping ground (sorry) for ideas. It’s always amazing to me how we can cull creativity from everyday (hope not!) events. Well done, Diana… I felt your pain. 🙂
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All true, Steven. Not one iota of exaggeration in this one. I will remember the smell forever. Lol. Like a kid, I had to share the grossness with the the world 🙂 Glad you got a laugh out of it.
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The one benefit to grossness is that you can share it. Thanks for that. 🙂
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😀
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Diana, I know it doesn’t sound too compassionate, but I enjoyed your writing. All the details, emotion… When a writer is taking trash to the dump, it can become a beginning of a great novel 😉
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Thanks for visiting, Inese, and it’s fine to laugh at my gross misery. Ha ha. I’m sure the corpse smells, mouse stink, and gross water will end up in a book somewhere 😀
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I am sure they will 🙂
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Oh my goodness, and your horrible gross experience, Diana! It was so detailed, full of book “fodder.” You did have me chuckling as I pictured the oozing drips onto your clothes! I echo the suggestions Debby gave you (for future dump trips) but I am sure this trip will be far too memorable! 🙂
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I’m so glad I got a chuckle out of you 🙂 Yes, it was horribly gross and that icky water all over me was the worst, other than the smell. Yuck. It is funny to look back on, but I don’t want to do it again! Have a great weekend, my friend. 🙂
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Initially I thought this is one of your flash fictions! Then I had to read once again to let the details sink in!! You have marvellously kept it lighter despite the harrowing nature of the preparations to visit the dump! Your brilliance shines through this story Diana. Thanks for sharing.
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100% true, Balroop. It was total grossness. Imagining it as a blog post was the only enjoyable thing about it 🙂 Thanks so much for the visit and Happy Writing!
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You da man Diana! I’m sorry for that god awful experience, but holy crap it made for a most entertaining read! Sooooooooooo gross nonetheless! You’re one tough chic my friend. I hope you never have to endure that again, but if so: go more often before everything id putrified, wear rubber gloves and rubber boots! 🙂 ❤
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Ha ha ha. If I was in charge of trash, it would be a whole different scene – nice bins, a shed, light loads, regular trips. This was, happily, an exception. All true though, no exaggeration! Glad you got a laugh! 😀 Have a great weekend.
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Thanks Diana, you too! And lol. 🙂
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If you haul more ‘fetid swill’ to the dump this summer, you better tell us about it! That was an absolute blast to read, D!
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Hopefully, no more “fetid swill,” Kelly. This is a true account and not to be repeated if I can help it :-D. I did get a post out of it, though. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Have a great weekend, my friend ❤
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I did enjoy it! Hope you have a great weekend as well! 🙂
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While you’re there don’t forget to cruise the dead animal pit…:0( If my husband stops going to the dump I’ll pay someone A LOT before I take that journey! When it comes to the dump and husbands well, I was really glad when they stopped letting him bring stuff home!
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When I was a kid, my parents used to get beautiful things at the old landfill – an oak dining room set that they had for 50 years and my brother inherited. We compost and recycle and donate, so the stuff I bring to the dump nobody would go near. Yuck. Thanks for the visit and adding to the smiles 🙂
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My husband was honoring the lessons his dad learned during the depression and doing his best to save the planet at the same time. Then they changed the rules.
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A wonderful story that made me laugh as it awakened so many memories of similar experiences. Yes, wonderful images to weave into your future works. Diana. 🙂
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Ha ha. I actually like physical work, Carol, but this was truly horrifying. 🙂 I’m glad it made you laugh. It is pretty funny in hindsight, though I don’t want to do it again. Thanks for the visit, my friend. ❤
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Thank you, Diana. I still do unpleasant work, too – but I have old holey rubber boots rather than tennis shoes, and work clothes from good will. Most of my work, backbreaking though is might be, doesn’t involve the odors and textures you described which such clarity that I felt present with you in the moment. 🙂
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Ugh! Odors, to me, are the most powerful, unforgettable of memories. “No detail is too small, especially if it is painful or gross.” I got a kick out of that. Huge hugs. And virtual aroma therapy… geranium. 🙂
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Thankks for commiserating, Teagan. This is 100% true! No exaggeration. Yes, it was totally gross, but had to be done (to take care of the king). Ha ha. Thanks for the visit and HUGS back at you. 😀
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Great tie-in. Back-breaking work–can’t say I’ve experienced much of that in my lifetime. Mind-breaking maybe. I can see that physical would be valuable–and then there’s the yucky smell of garbage. And then when something unknown drips onto you–oh deliver me!
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Ha ha ha. I don’t recommend it, Jacqui. It’s really yucky. But it will come in handy sometime when I need to gross someone out of make them laugh 🙂 Happy Writing!
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Ahh, the smell of rotting corpses … erm … garbage! 🙂 … we too have to schlepp our garbage to the dump every couple of months. Thankfully our bins have lids and a nice comfy shed to keep them dry. Perhaps such things might be gently suggested to hubs, for future reference? 😀
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Hmm. We have our wood shed right there with plenty of room! I’ll gently suggest 😀
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Oh my, this brings back my own memories of completing unpleasant tasks. As you said, you do end up with experiences that can be craftily revamped and used in a story. That’s the only way to look at a task like that. I love the subtle humor, no comment on husband and missing lids, the few choice words stashed away for husbands :-D. Glad you got that chore over, Diana!
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The husband deserved my most hearty kudos as he’s the reason I get to stay home and write all day. But… there are times! Lol. Thanks for the visit, Lana. Have a great evening.
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Well, that’s what you get for living in the “lush, wet, green wilderness!”
Just kidding — there are tradeoffs involved in lifestyle choices, and I have no doubt that you wouldn’t trade your choice for all the trash pickup convenience you could get. But enough trash talk — I wouldn’t dump on you for the world! 🙂
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Yes, it’s a trade off, although usually we don’t let the stuff sit for 6 months. Ugh Yuck. I like living out in the wilds and wouldn’t trade it for the world 🙂 Thanks for stopping by!
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It all sounds horrendous! But such good fodder for writing.x
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Totally gross, Judith! I don’t recommend it, but I did get a post out of it 😀
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You did!! LOL x
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Wonderful! I may have to bookmark this for future reference. :p
But…don’t you get your rubbish collected? Sorry, no idea where you are or what the rules are.
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Glad you enjoyed my misery. Lol. We could get our rubbish collected, but we’d have to load it in the truck and drive it down the to the road (about 1/4 mile) and unload it into the cans. Since we have to do all that work anyway, we just bring it to the dump ourselves and save the money. I live in the wilds of Oregon, US. 🙂
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Oh…oh! So you really are like…a farm? Hmm…you know I’ve never thought about how people NOT in urban areas cope with rubbish. So glad I’m just on the urban fringe and still get mine picked up at the gate!
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More like a cabin in the mountains up a switchback road. A few disadvantages, but many more advantages 🙂
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How do you manage internet? Via satellite?
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Satellite internet and TV. Though we just got high speed cable down at the road (thanks to Obama). 🙂 We can’t wait to get hooked up. Satellite is slow and expensive.
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I’ve never used it, but I can well imagine that satellite would ‘lag’. Out here we only have access to ADSL [via the phone line]. It’s pretty fast but having had cable in the past, I know it’s a lot faster. Enjoy. 🙂
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Lol… You can write about anything, Diana! 😀
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Thanks, Kev. All true! Right now I’m editing until my eyeballs dry up, so it’s fun to go a little overboard and write something funny. Thanks for the visit!
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I always enjoy myvisits, Diana. 🙂 Hope the editing goes well ☺
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Thank you for the best read I have had in ages. Really! I belly-laughed and had to wipe tears from my blurry eyes. Is there a Part II?
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No Part II, Jennie, thank goodness! The dump part of the trip wasn’t nearly as gross. Thanks for reading, and I’m so glad you got a good laugh. Makes my day 🙂
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My pleasure!
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You had me hooked from the very first sentence. What can I say? Great minds think alike.
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Thanks for reading. It was a completely gross way to collect future book material, but I also got a post out of it 🙂 Glad you enjoyed by misery! Ha ha.
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Well – my enjoyment wasn’t exactly “schadenfreude.” It’s just that I do the same thing. In fact, it actually shields me from the pain of unfortunate experience when I turn my attention to how the experience might best be woven into some kind of work of fiction. I suppose the healthier approach might be to “walk through the pain directly” but hell – if Beethoven had taken that approach, the world might not have had the Ninth Symphony. (In my not-so-humble opinion.)
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Yup. There are a few experiences I would rather not have had, but they all are grist for the fictional mill. 😀
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What are you moaning about, this is the sort of adventure a man would revel in!
I can say this because I’m out of your reach LOL
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Ha ha. You’re welcome to come by anytime, Richard, and indulge your manly desire to battle the trash beast. Yuck. Fortunately, this was a one time event – good for a laugh and a post 🙂
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It made me chuckle 🙂
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Eating lunch whilst reading this is perhaps not recommended😀😃!! Great writing and what research material – your poor characters are going to suffer. I hope your husband’s back is soon better and that he can do the dump runs again. Luckily we have collections of all household rubbish.
When I came to empty the vacuum bag after our last arrival to the houses in Sweden I got a huge scare as a mouse leapt from the bag I was holding, ran up my arm before I shook it away screaming…that was bad enough!
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Ha ha ha. You’re so funny. Yes, don’t eat lunch while reading this. And that mouse! Yikes, Annika. I’m not afraid of mice, but I’d be screaming too if it ran up my arm! Ack! Have a wonderful rodentless day 😀
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Very entertaining and funny, D. I’m selfishly hoping Mr. WP has prolonged back issues so these adventures run and run : )
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His back is in good shape, thankfully, but there are a never ending series of adventures out here, Phil. No quite as disgusting as that one, though. Thanks for reading!
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Priceless I could see you fighting the garbage. 🙂
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It was horrid! Ha ha. And once was enough to get the full effect. Thanks for stopping by, my friend. 🙂
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Oh my God…what a perfect (and disgusting) description you have created here. I could almost smell it. I can see why it would inspire your characters. I control our waste management activities, and I’ve become pretty OCD about it all. Enjoyable read…but, yuck !! 💗
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It was so gross, Van. All true too. I’m so glad you haven’t had this kind of fun in your life. Thanks for chuckling along. 😀 ❤
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You are a brace soul! I would do the same thing though…and I love the line about how your back was whining like a teenager..lol!!!
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Thanks, Erika. It was a totally disgusting experience, so I had to turn it into a funny post! Happy Writing 🙂
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Thank you! I will start on your lovely new treasure this weekend too!
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Yay! Thank you 😀 ❤
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I meant brace, not brace…lol
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Ha ha. You mean brave 🙂
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I think my autocorrect must think I need to brace myself to get through the day…lol
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Grim. But hilarious!
😉
Makes me appreciate regular bin collections where all we have to do is sort out the recycling and then wheel the bins to the edge of our property (about 20 feet from the house). Aaah, civilisation, how I love thee…
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We’ve thought about regular collection, Nick, but we’d still have to load up the truck to bring everything down the hill. Fortunately, since last year, the hubby’s back is feeling good and there haven’t been any more forays into utter grossness 🙂
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Well, for you perhaps…
😉
If there’s anything gross that needs doing in our house it always seems to have my name on it!
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Opposite here. My husband gags too easily. 😀
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Retching rather than comedy quips? 😉
Is he only on the refuse run because of his muscle? The old story of husband as beast of burden. It happens to us all!
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Yeah. He gets to do the heavy lifting. I’m a pipsqueak 😀
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The brains behind the brawn 😉
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[…] JANUARY 11, 2015 […]
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Ha! So funny. The Bone Wall is post-apocalyptic, as a matter of fact. But it’s not as funny as my miserable experience wresting with wet garbage, Yuck – the smell was the worst part.
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I’m looking forward to reading about the hero’s journey through a dump in your next book! A post-apocalyptic world, perhaps? 😀
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This is lovely writing! I could picture you in medieval times and in modern ones both.
Thank you for that!
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Most of my books take place in non-technological worlds, so grossness is part of the experience!
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Ya got me. Never figured I would start my day laughing about garbage. Yuks over the yuk.
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Thanks Mike. Laughing at myself was my only option, or I’d be in jail. It was sooo gross.
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