Category: writing

Night and Day (100 word challenge)

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As has become the Wednesday tradition, I am participating in @Bikurgurl‘s 100-word challenge (Week 6). Thank you for stopping by! (image credit: Bikurgurl 2016 )

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Opposite sides of the same coin – created equal, yet so vastly different! Insomuch as the night without the morning’s sunrise would be incomplete, the day without the rejuvenation of the night would be unbearable. Sweet and bittersweet in a lover’s dance, separated by circumstance, with the fire of temptation still burning between them. Walls built up of bygone encounters – emotions that once fed the soul are now boxed up and spirits that quenched the thirst for adventure, seemingly held captive in fragile glass bottles, as if the past could so easily be discarded. They say dark cannot exist without light…

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Untold Story (30-word Thursday challenge)

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I nearly stepped on this fragile egg shell in my haste to get off to work… It blended in with the gravel of the driveway, especially with the showers overnight bringing a uniform gloss to everything. It set my mind reeling for the entire drive (2016).

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So delicate and almost unnoticeable. Was this the start of a beautiful beginning, or a tragic demise? The untold story resting silently amid the shallow pools of the rocky driveway.

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Curiosity and the Kit

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For a while (I’m almost embarrassed to mention how long), I’ve been working on a “children’s” story – inasmuch as the Chronicles of Narnia are children’s stories, but you get the intent. Because of school demands, outrageous work hours, and a cavalcade of health setbacks, this story line took a back seat to, well, life, and its trouble-making hoodlum buddies. It has been this particular story, though, that has been tugging at my ‘novelistic’ heartstrings, begging that I return to my innermost passion, picking up the pieces that I had left scattered across my multiple flash drives as well as what I can recall from memory, having lost nearly the full beginning chapter to a virus-ridden hard drive. I was recently struck with a bolt of inspiration, almost audibly hearing one of the young characters in a conversation with her wise, gentle mother. I seized the opportunity to share an intimate moment with Mademoiselle Muse while she decided to grace me with her presence, despite the ungodly hour on the clock – sleep, be damned! – and such progression is always high-potency fuel on the fire! I’m hoping over the course of the next few weeks, this creative awakening takes up residence without fail and I’m able to continue developing this particular story line; I would love to see these characters come to life and be enjoyed by others!

For now, a tidbit to share with you all:

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Willow was coaxed from the comfort of the den, the silken fur tipping her ears swayed by the melodious fog that caressed the timbers as it rolled up from deep within the valley. Against her nature, she sat quietly, watching the wispy air finger its way up and through nearby trees, convincing stubborn leaves to twirl and tremble, wave and waltz with a commanding gentleness. A shimmer of brilliant light shone from around the high back root of the Borealis tree, drawing Willow’s attention. Where the light was coming from was a mystery, as the fog still rested in the canopy overhead. The young fox crawled toward the illuminated root, battling curiosity and trepidation.

“What is it, young one?” the soft, tender voice of Sequoiasong patiently beckoned from just outside the den’s opening.

“A light…” Willowwood stammered, refusing to turn her gaze from the mysterious spectacle. “A brilliant light, like nothing I’ve ever seen before, Mother! I don’t know where it’s coming from; but I don’t want to lose it! ”

“And what is your plan for this light, Willowwood?” Sequoiasong needled. “Will you snatch it up in your jaws and drag it off somewhere, burying it as a prize for yourself?”

“I just want to see where it’s coming from and where it leads.”

“Are you sure you want to know that much about something so mysterious?”

“Of course I want to know!” The petite fox hopped up and down on all four of her dusty paws in a dance of wild impertinence. “And I want to know why the fog sings.”

“You hear the fog singing? What is it saying to you, my young one?”

Willowwood’s frolicking halted and she tilted her right ear toward the sky. “I don’t understand what it’s saying, Mother.” She pinched her eyes tight as if shutting out all light helped with auditory senses. “I’m not even sure there are words… Just a haunting song… A haunting song – so beautiful – my heart, Mother…”

“Breathe, Willow…”
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SECRETS (100-word challenge)

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This week’s 100-word challenge, as hosted by @bikurgurl , includes the photo above – one of her very own (photo credit: @bikurgurl 2015)!

Here’s my submission – “SECRETS”

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They say the eyes are the windows to the soul; however, I am both in awe and perplexed at how you, my fiendish friend, with your steely glare and triumphantly narrow myopic view, manage to possess a world of wonder and beauty beyond a stare of such cold, hard permanence. Light escapes in fragments – shards and offcasts of what once was whole – only to demonstrate your unwillingness to set free any true components of measurable majesty. Why do you lock such azure brilliance away? What tortures you so, deep within your troubled soul, my fiendish friend, that you imprison the heavens?

. . . .

Anything You Can Do…

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So, the Goose Egg has been sufficiently cracked, liberally scrambled and riotously consumed!

What on earth am I referring to?

NaNoWriMo… (see my previous blog post, “November“)

My previous attempts (five or so years ago, and thus far this year) have produced nothing more than flamboyant nullity with regards to word count.

However, I am happy to report, I have finally shaken off the cloak of Anxiety – I still may have a shawl on, just for familiarity and comfort, but I’m definitely not allowing Anxiety and Fear to smother me anymore – and I’ve started this new tale!

I’m only 800 words into it, but I’ve also only had the opportunity to invest about 4 hours, including a smidge of research, so I’m feeling good! Besides, 800 words is better than what I had 5 hours ago!

I want to thank my son for motivating me, even though he’s completely oblivious to the fact that he’s the reason I’m writing again! (Last night, as we drove to the ballot drop box, I told him about the “November” blog post and how he was definitely outpacing me in his November challenge. He asked what the story line was for my latest project, and I explained the bare bones of it; he didn’t tune me out, which I took as a sign that it wasn’t a complete bore.) Because he has so bravely (translation: reluctantly) refrained from excavating his meager whiskers from his chin and upper lip, I felt it only fair that I open my laptop and at least attempt to write a paragraph or two… Hopefully the remainder of the week will see the multiplication of this miniscule word count into an explosion of literary greatness!

 

A tidbit for your entertainment:

Ennie had known nothing but urban living. She was raised in a traditional suburb with its tract homes, four-way stops, carefully manicured front yards, driveways with basketball hoops, and sidewalks dotted with tricycles, skateboards, and discarded baseball mitts, miles from the skyscrapers of the downtown jungle, but near enough that light pollution made wishing on evening stars merely a Hollywood movie set ploy.  She had skipped along those tree-lined avenues with girlfriends on her way to and from elementary and middle school, and learned to drive her father’s old pickup truck in the large parking lot behind the neighborhood shopping mall, early on Saturday mornings before the six-screen theatre opened its doors, flooding the perimeter with the intoxicating aroma of fresh popcorn, ready to tantalize the rush of moviegoers and hold them captive with a lightshow larger than life. Longtime residents watched the pudgy, freckle-faced tomboy graduate from tearing up her mother’s rose garden in search of worms and isopods, holding them captive in glass jars, to a daredevil strapped atop a pair of roller skates, blazing down the east hill with reckless abandon, and absolutely no concern for cross traffic or the consequences of bodily harm. The younger kids in the neighborhood had the pleasure of her company in the absence of their parents, as she swiftly became the neighborhood’s most reliable and trusted babysitter. She introduced different genres of music to the children she had the opportunity to interact with, as she always had some song lifting her spirit, causing her to dance and twirl. She also took the time to teach some of the kids that wanted to learn – and even some who begrudgingly protested but peered over folded arms and past furrowed brows – different skills, including cooking and baking, photography, crocheting and embroidery, and even took the time to write stories with those select families she watched on a regular basis.  Fingernails and toenails were often of differing colors, and she gladly shared her flare for the eclectic with anyone who asked – or asked mom and dad’s permission. Her smile was more of a city trademark than the city’s seal itself, and Ennie made it her personal mission to greet as many individuals a day with a gracious smile and a joyous “hello”.

Power Through the Pain

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I’m in the most ridiculous place I’ve ever been in my life:  having the opportunity to write – classes haven’t started up again, so I’m not bogged down with homework or research assignments – and there really isn’t anything that is absolutely vying for my attention. However, I’m finding it difficult to find the motivation and concentration to write, falling victim to both boredom and, sadly, pain. The headaches have been a part of life for the past 8 years – the lovely side effect of playing host to my resident benign brain tumor; usually, I don’t let them slow me down. Today, though, the combination of gentle, dull pain throughout the left side of my sinuses and this new, deep ache in my left thigh that’s developed over the past month or so has me a bit agitated, restless, and distracted. I have several different pieces of “inspiration” for my story/stories, and I know I’ve got to get some of them on the page before I lose them to the “I’m not as young as I used to be” broken webs in my memory vault.

Aside of the brain tumor – this current one (alluding to the fact that this is NOT the only one I’ve had!) is one that was discovered in late 2008, and deemed inoperable because of its positioning around the internal carotid artery – I also dance a delicate ballet with fibromyalgia, able to leap, pirouette, and spin some days, while other days, full-on solo “Fish dive”! But wait! There’s more! (As a kid during the rise of the original “infomercial” and the coveted Ginsu knives, I’ve always wanted to say that!) Because I also carefully manage hypothyroidism, gout, and hypokalemia, the pain in my left thigh could stem from so many different things. I’ve been jumping around so much lately at home (summertime lawn maintenance, a whirlwind weekend trip to Los Angeles to celebrate Mother’s Day and a milestone birthday for my beautiful mom – during which I also sustained a right rotator cuff injury – entertaining family members from out of town with a four-day trip to Canada, keeping up with my 14-year-old son and his “band of brothers”, not to mention the dog and two cats) and working extended hours at the office, I’m not sure I know where this pain is coming from. I’m trying to maintain a decent balance of electrolytes and proteins to make sure my muscles aren’t “starving”, including plenty of potassium. I’ve suffered through potassium infusions in the past, and do not wish that torture even on the most belligerent politician.

I could roll up in a ball somewhere in the house, whether on the sofa or on my bed, and attempt to take a nap – I’m sure some parts of my body would audibly thank me if they could! At the same time, I believe the pain in my thigh would keep me from actually falling asleep, and I would be just as restless in the supine position as I am sitting here in front of my computer… And far too often, I start “writing” in my head as I recline just prior to drifting off to sleep, wrinkling my nose in disdain for not having spent more time actually writing! So, I say ‘power through the pain’ – a life motto, of sorts – and at bare minimum, kick out this monologue. If I can get borrow my mom’s classic philosophy, and maybe slam my thumb with a hammer to divert my attention from the pain in my head and thigh, I may be able to make some headway on these stories… Wish me luck!

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p.s. Kudos to all of you out there who make it through each day! It can be a challenge, and rarely do we have a cheering section, carrying us upon their raised voices when our energy, strength, and hope falter. Kudos to you!

Time to Dream… Time for Dreams…

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So, wow! Here I am… Here it is… It’s real! I guess I’ve always dreamed of something like this, but never expected it to become reality. Not that realizing your dreams isn’t possible – if that were the case, shows like “American Idol” would not exist, no athlete would stand on the top pedestal and proudly sing his or her country’s national anthem while clutching that disk of gold around their neck, and you crafty tailors and seamstresses can forget about it! If Elias Howe ignored his dream – literally! – there would be no sewing machines with which to stitch and sew your artful masterpieces. No, for me, it wasn’t a “this will never happen” sort of impossibility; it was more of a “will you ever find the time?” type of improbability.

“Spare time”. Now there’s something I wish I could bottle and sell! You know that’s something everyone is going to need at some point, whether they need it today, in the future, yesterday, or a continuous IV drip. I used to joke, “I need some more spare time, but I can’t seem to find it on the shelf at the local mega-mart. And even if they did stock it, I don’t have any spare time to get to the store to buy any!” Truer words were never uttered. Well, that was before I took on parenting alone, spiced it up with some health “hurdles”, and eventually tossed in advanced-level online courses, on my way to a master’s degree. Sure, why not, right? Who needs sleep?

Logically I thought, in the midst of all this “fun”, why not tackle one more behemoth, and start an online forum… There’s time for that, right? A full-time job that eats up nearly 12 hours of each (week)day, 3 to 5 hours of studying and homework every night, the blessed job of motherhood – not to mention dishes, laundry, cat boxes, lawn maintenance, grocery shopping, and other ad hoc duties as assigned – church, and the occasional attempt at having a social life (insert laugh track here) – apparently isn’t enough for this, umm, what’s the right word here… *cough*  masochistic psychopath *cough, cough*; I need Superman to take a few reverse laps around this beautiful blue marble for me so that I can catch up!

Let’s be honest, I haven’t figured out the secret to slowing down the earth’s rotation. I haven’t been able to miraculously add hours to the end of the day by stealing them from the beginning of the day – that’s not to say I haven’t tried, and successfully proven that it is an unsuccessful endeavor! I don’t own a T.A.R.D.I.S. (nor am I personally acquainted with any medical personnel who may have indefinitely “borrowed” one). What I have figured out is waiting for the day when you have “spare time” will leave you waiting for an eternity! It’s late  – a malicious, “slap in the face” kind of late – and my rather loud wristwatch is ticking down each minute of sleep I’m not getting; but it’s Saturday night, so I don’t have to worry about a dreadful alarm blasting some ridiculously annoying screech in the morning (one of the reasons I love going to church on Saturday evenings). However, this – THIS! – has waited long enough, and I can no longer turn a blind eye or a deaf ear to the cries of my own heart! Time, you thief of dreams! You irksome tormentor, with your unstoppable “tick tick” beat, devoid of a heart’s warmth and patient spirit, have proven a worthy opponent, and I am through with your taunting; I accept your challenge!

Writing has been a passion of mine since the second grade – God bless Mrs. Imhof for her encouragement; I will never forget it. And although not all of this may be scribing novels or penning poetry, it is allowing me the opportunity to express thought, stretch my creative wings, and even dabble in entertaining (hopefully!), using my penchant and zeal for the written word. Bursting with excitement, trepidation, and indeterminate hope, I am about to transform a part of who I am and turn it into a vessel, poised and ready to not only capture life as I see it, but allow it to mix, mingle, marinade, penetrate, percolate and cavort fantastically with new and exciting ideas, thoughts, and discussions and spill out onto the virtual page in a smearing and smudging of all that, well, IS!

Wet Paint

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It’s all so new! Like walking out of the nail salon with that fresh coat of high-gloss scarlet, screaming “stop and stare at me!” I’ve been talking about doing this for quite some time; I can’t believe I’ve actually seen this project to fruition! [hesitant happy-dance] Now let’s see if I can get home without smudging my new paint job…

This blog is two-fold: it was initially conceived as a venue for creative outlet and just a place to do what I love – to write! Whether sharing fun stories from a catastrophically chaotic day at the office, or musing about the four-legged furbabies around the house, I knew I needed something that pulled me out of the doldrums of tax preparation and restored a sense of youthfulness, inspiration, and wonder that I found lacking in my life as of late. As I fought to concentrate on topics, however, a few of my closet skeletons began to scratch and claw at that back door of my mind, whining and wailing to be set free. Several years ago, I started writing a book when struck by an incredibly forceful vein of inspiration. Everything from job stress, to several family relocations, to medical complications, to computer failures, to just plain ol’ writer’s block – not to mention a little bit of life – interrupted the forward momentum of the story, and it remained dormant. Like late tax returns needing to be filed, the incomplete pages began to weigh heavy on me, but the concept was still so scattered. In talking with several friends, they suggested I just start writing… Just write! So that’s what I’ve done. I started writing. And sure enough, the ideas began to flow again, which was exhilarating – and oddly, exhausting at the same time, as I am not as young as I used to be, and my days are quite occupied otherwise!

Nonetheless, I have decided to utilize this blog for both musings of the recreational sort, and for further advancement of my story. My posts may contain odd antidotes about some random visit to the grocery store, and the conversation I fell into with a product demonstrator, or it may share a tidbit about a piece of the story I was able to accomplish in the days leading up to the post. Either way, I do hope you find the posts entertaining. And, I do encourage your feedback! I love to hear what’s on your mind! Did something I share spark a memory? Are you experiencing a similar scenario in your life or workplace? Do you just need some encouragement, whether you’re writing a piece of fiction, a research paper for school, or just trying to make it from one day to the next? 

My goal is to publish new posts at least once a week (I’m aiming for the ‘unscripted’ hours between Friday evening and sunrise on Monday morning), but if things are going well – meaning, if I’m not putting in too much overtime at the office, all the homework is done, and the house is not asunder – I may sneak in an additional post from time to time.

With that said, here we go!