Tag Archives: writer

Losing Myself Behind the Walls of Music

I love looking back over my music playlist to see the places I lost myself in another world. Most common when I’m writing – as I often listen to music to block out other noises – but occasionally I get caught up reading while my music is on. Sometimes it’s just short segments: “Didn’t hear that song.” Sometimes I’ll find I’ve missed a long line of songs. This time – reading rather than writing – I found that for the past 45 minutes I have heard part of every other song, almost exactly. Just one segment where I missed 2.5 songs in a row.

When I’m writing I generally hear one song per 45 minutes, or sometimes part of a song every 30. The familiar songs fulfill their purpose: blocking the noise by allowing my mind to relax so far into their memorized path that I am completely unaware of it. Creating my writing closet with walls of music.

I don’t know why this interests me. 😉 I’m a strange one.


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The Journey Continues


I love this journey.

I have been back to writing steadily for more than a week. Back in the thick of the journey. It’s incredible. I love when the unexpected happens. Love it when my expectations are completely wrong. I love when my characters surprise me, especially when it’s two main characters that surprise me. This is the beauty of writing.

The characters know how to write their story far better than I. And I love it when they take over. I love that feeling: when my eyes are following the words my pen writes, listening and watching my characters, and my eyebrows flick up in surprise or I have to smile in admiration at one or more characters. I love it when they surprise me, and I have a feeling they love to surprise me. Like: “Bet you didn’t see this coming.” “Bet you didn’t know this.”

Their version is so much better. It fits better. It is the real story….What I want to uncover.

Happy to be discovering. 🙂



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So I plunged back into my book yesterday. To actually writing and brainstorming on paper rather than just contemplating. Yesterday I was cementing the culture of the book more firmly in my mind. (Reading history books is excellent stimulation.) But today a new scene started playing in my mind. An emotional and telling scene for the protagonist.

Listening and transcribing what she was saying during an emotional outburst, and thinking about the truth in her admissions, I found myself, yet again, saying: what the heck am I thinking? I can’t write something like this. Well, I can, but how can I publish it? Is the world ready for something like this? Can they accept a character like this?

I know some can (like me), but the majority? Will they misunderstand her and abuse her with their false beliefs? Can they see and accept the darkness and the light at the same time? Will they believe her: that these two extremes exist in one person?

I know that other characters may share versions of different traits and struggles, but none are her. None have her combination. I don’t know any like her. So there’s no one to be the guinea pig. No one to test the market. And those characters that I think could identify with her and be friends with her…Well, I’m not sure how the rest of the world feels about them.

She’s closer than a daughter, and closer than a friend. Our relationship is different than either, and my feeling-levels vary from those presets. She’s in a category of her own. I am protective of her, and yet so very proud of her. But can readers possibly catch a glimpse of what I see?

I’m the only thing between her and the world, and the only one that can bring her to the world. I am the river and the bridge. I can’t cover parts of her because readers may ridicule her for it, or simply misunderstand her, which is so much worse. She wants to be honest with the world, and I must let her.

So today, I resisted the urge. I let her say everything she felt, and I wrote it unabridged, though I did cringe on occasion. Not because I dislike it, but because it goes against every protective instinct I have to let her be so transparent. But I did it. And I determined yet again (you see, I go through this battle quite often) that I must write the entire book this way. I can’t muffle her. The readers can either accept her or not. They can love her or not. But she will be real. It must be unabridged.

I hope, one day, you get to love her as I do. 🙂


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Coincidences. Life. Learning. Vampirism.

Sun Rays Through The Clouds

When I was getting up Wednesday morning to take my mother to and from surgery and pick up her prescriptions, I did not realize I would end up with an eye infection and antibiotics (picked up yesterday, pharmacy was beginning to think I would be a regular) of my own. Fortunately, the infection lined up with my days off work. Unfortunately, it made me less ‘on par’ to care properly for my mother.

But it led to a rather interesting mini-experience. I was feeling drowsy a couple hours after taking my medication and, wondering if it was due to the medication or my own tiredness, I looked more closely at the bottle. (Note to Self: Always do that before you take the medication…) I assumed it was just another run of the mill antibiotic as I had experienced over the years. Mistake.


Clearly printed were instructions to avoid direct and artificial sunlight. No explanation. But I figured it heightened photosensitivity. I made a joke about bursting into flames in the sunlight, and moved on. It was cloudy after all. No reason to dwell.

English: Clump of trees with sun rays below th...

The following day I acted as usual, practically forgetting about the sunlight warning, and took my meds upon waking. It was not nearly as cold as yesterday and there were significant lengths of uninterrupted sunlight shining through the windows and laying like blankets on the floor. I was feeling rather good about the day. My energy levels were higher, inflammation was down. I was feeling almost normal (that is, my normal).

English: Sun rays and hedgerow, West Hay Rd, W...

About noon, my mother’s dogs wanted outside. I slid the back door open, my hand sliding into the hot sun (surprised me how hot it felt in October), and held for a few seconds while they clamored over each other out onto the wooden planks. My eyes shot down to my hand as it began to feel like it was catching fire and I wanted to be sure I was wrong. I jerked my hand out of the sunlight. The sensation of flames – a heat that seemed almost liquid and yet not – with spots of deeper, hotter flames persisted. With a swift reach of my other hand, I pulled the door closed. Only a few seconds. My hand had only been in the sunlight a few seconds. The ‘direct sunlight’ warning flashed in my mind’s eye. “Now I know why they said to avoid direct sunlight.” My joke about bursting into flames seemed about spot on at this point.

My hand was still burning five minutes later, though lessening little by little. “Well, I guess this is a little insight into what being a vampire would be like,” I thought.

Photo of a cloud illuminated by sunlight.

Going to the grocery store about an hour later was interesting…racing the sun to the edge of the clouds. Seriously feeling some pity for the blood-suckers. The next several days should be interesting. (Praying for clouds….Oh, and I bought an umbrella. – No, I didn’t have one before.) 🙂


(Thought I’d sprinkle some beautiful pics of sunlight through out the post…Look but don’t touch.)


Filed under Random, Writing

What Do You See?

English: Drawing of a falling/floating man

English: Drawing of a falling/floating man (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She placed the picture in front of me, flat on the table between us. “What do you see?” she said. It sounded comparable to a challenge.

I touched a fingertip to the picture, pulling it a notch closer. “Someone falling.”

She placed another picture over the first. “What do you see?”

“They’re falling to the left this time. It’s the same person.”

“How do you know?”

I looked at her.

She gestured to the picture. “It’s a nondescript drawing. How do you know it’s the same person?”

“The features are proportional to one another and the hat is exactly the same. It’s a logical deduction.”

She nodded, and then placed another picture on the stack. “What do you see?”

“They’re falling backwards now. Looks like someone hit them.”

“And what about this one?”

“They fell. Again. Of course. I get it. They fall a lot.” I started to stand. “Can we—”

“How do you know it’s not the same time?”

My back smacked against the chair, but I was too exasperated to wince. Much. “They could not’ve landed that way from any of the previous falls. It’s obvious. Wh–” I leaned forward, palm flattening on the cold wood. “What do you see?”

“I see someone who keeps getting back up.” She paused, looking at me. “As you said, they had to be from separate falls. How can you fall again if you didn’t get back up?”

“The last one…they’re on the ground. How do you know they got back up?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well, every time they fall must be a stronger reason to stay there.”

“No, no.” She emphasized with a slow but purposed shake of her head. “Every fall would be another reason to get back up. They can’t let it win now. They wouldn’t concede defeat when they’ve already come this far. That would be a slight to their previous attempts. No. ” She shook her head again. “They would not give up.”

I sat back, lips pursed.

She took a moment before speaking again, this time with a tone reminiscent of trying to cross a river barefoot on wet stones. “I…don’t think you should give up either.”

I sighed, rubbing my fingers over an eyebrow. “I knew you would try something like this.”

She smiled.


How many times one falls is not a sign of weakness — it is a testament to how many times one has risen.

What do you see?


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#1 Insult of the Weekend

My sis was telling me about her work and her coworkers – new-ish job. They sounded varied and interesting. Being a writer and people-watcher (non-creepy kind) 🙂 I said I should ‘shadow’ her sometime or at least visit her at work sometime.

Sis: Yeah, you could do a shadow-work.

Me: Uh, ‘shadow’. Not ‘work’. 😉 …. I could just pop in for a sec if they would let me. Can you have visitors?

Sis: Yeah…. But it’d be better if you were invisible.

Gee, thanks… Of course she tried to say it was only so I could see them in their natural camaraderie, but I wasn’t going to fall for that. 😉


Filed under Humorous

An Unexpected Weekend for a Sick Person

Friday night was beautiful. Even though I was sick and unable to breathe through my nose, I was able to write in my novel (blessed bliss), finishing that notebook and starting on the next. 🙂 Ah, heaven.


But Saturday started rather distastefully. It was a blah day for the first few hours, but then I got off my bum and went out with my sis as promised (before I got sick…). Now, I’m just supposed to be along for the ride, providing company. But what happens? I end up buying out the old issues of Writer’s Digest at Half Price Books.

Then I did something I promised myself: stopped at the store for some bins to organize. Disarray hurts my creativity. 🙂 But, yet again, I end up with some unexpected items. I blame my sis entirely for this though. She dragged me down the pet aisle… My baby happens to be a cat (don’t know…just happened that way). 😉 Of course, I can’t go through that aisle without buying something for him.


So now he has a new bed, a new peeping bird toy (he loves to hear it squeal when he attacks…), and new treats. He was cute when I got home. (Once I managed to fit everything through the door.) He always greets me: sometimes soft and loving, sometimes insistent for attention, sometimes just to say ‘hey’, and sometimes to show me how miffed he is that I left him again. But this was different. He jogged up to me with wide, intense eyes. He was excited. After I gave him some love, he started sniffing the bags and containers. (Maybe he smelled the bird. The last time I got him one – since destroyed by others – he snuck it out of the bag with the tags on before I could show him and its squeaking gave him away. A Cat’s Christmas…) He met his new possessions with curiosity, and it wasn’t long before they were in use. 🙂


I commenced with my organizing late into the evening. Lupo sprawled on his new bed for hours. And I ended the day, Lupo at my feet, reading a Writer’s Digest issue from several years ago. Those are going to be fun – even though I have read many of them previously.

Sunday I went out again with my sis – dangerous thing. I was doing a little birthday shopping for a friend; and we were supposed to pick up some concert tickets, but I had forgotten they were closed on Sunday, so I’ll have to go out again tomorrow to get those.

I haven’t been this active on a weekend in quite sometime. At least not outside my home… And especially not when I’m ill.

I had plans to get a chunk of writing done this weekend, but productivity turned in a different direction on Saturday and most of Sunday. But then comes the wee hours of the morning… 🙂 I can still fit some words in. 😉

(By the way, worst dream ever Sunday morning… I guess now I can authentically write about a character losing their entire family and narrowly escaping death. Jiminy Christmas. That’s what I get for sleeping flat on my back…)

Here’s to a great week for everyone. 🙂


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