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Just Add Music

My creative life is a constant whirlpool, largely influenced by what I read. It’s nothing for me to have four books going at once, right now one horror, one fantasy and two books on the craft of writing. But by large, my greatest creative influence at the present time is music.

I am very particular about what I listen to while I write. The music must be strictly instrumental because for me, words distract. It must also go with the genre I am writing in and it’s a bonus if it fits the storyline.

Currently I have two fantasy stories going side by side and am listening to Merlin’s Magic.

Monday, March 12th, 2012:

Did you ever feel like for better or worse you’ve turned a corner in your creative life, and your best option is to just go with it?

That’s how I feel about the last few weeks, especially about this weekend. I didn’t sleep well last night, I think I had an anxiety attack or maybe it was allergies… or maybe it was me ramping up for the monumental task I have ahead of me.

I spent this weekend at the Tucson Festival of Books, an amazing weekend listening to fantasy authors and tales of their experiences in their craft. To say I was impressed is an understatement, to say I was inspired, motivated, intrigued and a bit intimidated is more exact. In retrospect I think the last few weeks have led to this weekend, preparation for the corner I had to turn.

One of the points given to me was not by a fantasy author at all but a valid point by a self-proclaimed social marketing guru. “For blogs, focus on a central theme.” Not sure which presenter said that, Lynda O’Connor, James O’Connor or Terry Whalin, but it made sense. My blog really is all over the place.

So as part of my turning the corner, I am focusing this blog, making it more centered on my theme, my world of writing. My spiritual journey as much as it plays into my creativity, I am pushing aside. Sorry to all my friends who enjoyed reading that part of my blog.

As for the Tucson Festival of Books, it was truly amazing. I was thrilled to hear such fantasy gurus as Dennis McKiernan, Robin Hobb, Terry Brooks and Judith Tarr.

Through Dennis, Robin and Judith and Naomi Novik I learned what high fantasy was, fantasy centered in magic and magic must always have a price. Yes, I’ve heard about the price of magic before but a reminder at this point in my creative process was beneficial.

There were so many tidbits passed on, I’ll try to share a few of them here:

From Robin – Anchor your story to your world, readers will trust you with the rest. Be scientifically accurate with small details, accuracy does matter.

Dennis and Robin – Watch idioms/terminology. (has to do with keeping consistent with the world you’ve created and if it’s historical, historical accuracy.)

I also learned that in fantasy, everything must work like in the real world except the “black boxes.” Black boxes being things like the use of magic, things found in your world but not necessarily in reality. And of course, limit your black boxes. Not sure who said that but everyone agreed.

Maxwell Alexander Drake, Kevin Hearne, Sam Sykes, Weston Ochse, Cherie Priest, Yvonne Navarro, Gini Koch and Maria Dalvana Headley was also extraordinary presenters.

My husband, who I dragged along with me on this outing, and I thoroughly enjoyed benefiting from all of their experience and hard-earned wealth of knowledge. To all the Authors I’ve mentioned and those I have accidentally overlooked, “thank you!” for your time and words of wisdom and inspiration.

And many thanks to the city of Tucson, for your Festival of Books. It truly was an amazing experience. Thank you, Tucson, and I look forward to next year!

As for me I am off to the major task of rewriting my current work-in-progress. This weekend helped me to sort through issues that I have long been dissecting with little success. As one author said this weekend, “Editing is not creating and sometimes you just have to set aside that novel and move on.” He’s right so I will rewrite and create rather than attempt to fix by editing. Rewriting is creating and sometimes it’s your only option.

Embrace Your Creativity

Me: Mother Wisdom, am I denying the real me, what I was meant to be?

Mother Wisdom: No, you are embracing it.

Me: But I seem to be hung up on writing poetry now. What about my stories?

Mother Wisdom: Child, you were a poet long before you were a novelist and your poems are stories. Stories of who you are, what you feel, your hopes, your dreams. There are no rules, you can be and do whatever and go wherever your creativity takes you. No conditions, no restrictions, no bars, no chains, only you.

Mother Wisdom: Your creativity is a large part of who you are. Be you.

Me: Be me?

Mother Wisdom: Yes, be you.

At Seventeen

I once wrote a book of poems,
From start to finish, fifty pages,

I was seventeen, young, innocent
The words poured from my soul
A never ending flood of emotion,
Beauty and passion,

My life began at seventeen
The real me came forth,
And yet, four weeks later, my bliss ended
The real me denied, my nightmare began,

It was a matter of survival,
Live a life of constant emotional pain
Abuse at the hands of those closest
To me, or dump ashes on my budding
Persona, smothering my spirit’s attempt
To grow,

I had no choice, accused of the worst
Wretched offense, I gave in, gave up,
I denied my true nature,

My true self consumed in a bonfire,
I watched my fifty pages go up in smoke,
My penance for one month of freedom,
One month of discovering who I truly am,

It was decades later that I fully embraced
What I learned at seventeen,
No further atonement, no denial,

The beauty within me allowed to resurface,
The bud became a flower, the flower
A growing bush, blossoming, thriving,
Never more contained with chains of fear,

I am who I am and who I’ve always been
For that I am grateful, now at last I am complete,

At seventeen, I discovered my gift
At forty-four, I embraced it.

The Desert Devil

Out of nowhere it rises,

Swirling, its tunnel formation

Dances across the desert floor,

It lifts dirt and sand, everything it can carry

High against a blue, near cloudless sky,

Striking fear into the wary  and unsuspecting

It’s loud rush has no warning,

The dust devil hurries onward,

Throwing its victims in its wake.

The Story Continues

My world glows, I am complete,
The music plays within my head,
I cannot describe this evolution
Within my soul, my spirit,

A door has opened and I have entered
Another dimension,another aspiration,

The beauty fills me, lifts me upward
As I swirl within the melody,

She is there, my spirit guide,
Always watchful, always listening,
Peaceful, calm, she beckons me,

I feel her strength, her force, her nature,
We walk together, back to the tall wood,
And my story of yesterday.

Their story continues, Sannie and her new family. I know only partially what happens next, the rest is their adventure.

Sannie’s World

Alone, the tall forest, unfamiliar,
The child sleeps, drugged, abandoned,
Her newest foster mother gone, the child discarded,

The child wakes, afraid, night surrounds her,
She pushes back against a tree,
Cold, her only comfort a picnic blanket,
Her body in shock, she tires, her eyelids heavy,

In the distance, a lone creature lopes
Seeking to satisfy his hunger for the night,
His nostrils flare, an unfamiliar scent in the air,
Predatory he changes direction, seeking,

The child sleeps, unaware danger is near,
He finds her there, easily, the blanket
Little refuge in the cold night, he sniffs
She smells of innocence, tender youth and
Fear, yes, even in her dreams she is afraid,

His lips curl, what savagery, a child left alone,
He is hungry, he must hunt but her breath fogs the air,
His coat thick, warm, he lies beside her, close,
In her rest she draws his warmth, thin arms wrap
Her body closer, in her mind she sees her teddy bear
The one forgotten, left behind,

The morning comes, she wakes, alone
Her teddy bear gone, never there,
Her guardian angel disappears
Through thick brush, in search of food,

A voice, melodious and strong breaks
Through the crisp morning air,
The girl rises, hunger overrides her fear,
“Hello,” she calls, her voice loud in the forest hush,

The singing stops, “Hello?” She cries again,
Panic, Are they gone? Is she alone?
“Hello,” the voice answers, a tall figure
Walks in bright sunlight, around a far tree,

A woman, beautiful, her eyes friendly
Her words of concern and comfort,
“Child, are you alone?”

The child’s tears fall, unabated,
Within the woman’s warm cloak, she nuzzles
The woman carries her along a well worn path,

Deep in the forest, in a hearth a fire blazes,
The child wrapped in blankets lies upon a bed,
She sleeps safe in the woman’s watchful care,
The two will be become one, a family,

Outside a furry protector stands guard,
Ever mindful of the two harbored there.

What Are You Seeking?

I woke this morning, desiring to meditate, to commune with my inner wisdom. Instead verse rose to the surface, a realization. For days I had a deep inner need to find something but I had no idea what I was searching for.

Having been born with a curious nature, ever wanting to know more about the world around me, I have an insatiable desire to learn. This new Mind/body adventure has awakened a yearning within my spirit.I’ve spent the last four days researching, attempting to learn all I can about this spiritual journey. This morning, I found the answer to what I’ve been seeking.

The Seeker

Why follow for the sake of following?
I must live my life honestly, my purpose
Not to please, but rather to be real,

Beneath the dead leaves of Winter,
Spring’s new growth emerges
Seeking the warm sun,

I feel my spirit do likewise,
For days now I have been seeking
Not knowing for what I yearn,

Realization has dawned this
Beautiful early Spring morning,

I am seeking me, not the one
Who lives to please, to gather
Like minded friends around her,
Hoping to avoid the desolation
Of someday existing alone,

But rather, the true me, the strong
Independent woman unafraid,
Resilient and honest,

Our lif’e's a journey from start to finish,
But first we must ask, Who am I?
What do I want?

Our goals, our life’s purpose,
Will we ever know? Do we truly want to know,
Wholly and honestly, facing our fears,
Our needs, our wants put aside?

I’ve sought to please, my creative
Ambitions laid out before me,
Not true to myself but rather
Seeking to please market standards,

Phooey! I say now, no more,
I am not in this world to please,
I am here to be who I truly am,
My purpose, my destiny,
My true self hidden below the debris
Of forty-nine years of life, emerges
Like that Spring Flower,

Yes I am seeking,
As the plant does the sun,
I am seeking, but I am

Seeking me.

I am rambling today, I don’t remember much of my visit with my wisdom guide from last night. I do remember our walking down a forest path, together, in silence. The warm glow of the sun breaking through the canopy of trees overhead. She was silent but I still heard her, “Today is a new day, a new dawn.”

My subconscious is blocked by an especially bad dream, a nightmare. I was too warm within my bed. Now in the light of day I can’t remember the dream, just the fear. I woke to a semi dark house and as I stared into the darkness somewhere a light switched off.

I glanced at my husband, yes, he was in bed beside me, asleep. My previous fear escalated as I debated whether to investigate or pretend it never happened. As I lay there, buried deeper under my covers, I waited, listened, hoped and finally, nothing. Silence.

Seconds passed, I rationalized it was a motion detector on our back deck but even that scared me. We live in southern Arizona, walking distance from the border. I waited, listened, finally hoping it was a stray cat, I drifted off to sleep.

So in truth, I really have nothing to say, today, no poems to share. I am reading a book that I may finish this morning before I continue editing my current novel, RETRIBUTION. The book I am reading is THE WOLF GIFT by Anne Rice.

It started out slow and I almost gave up on it. I’m very glad i didn’t. It’s an excellent book, one of Anne Rice’s best. Like vampires and so many of the other things she’s quite eloquent about, Ms. Rice adds her own compelling slant to a popular topic, the werewolf.

It’s really about a young man, rich, sheltered, naive who becomes infatuated with an older woman and a very old, very large house. It is upon meeting the two that the young man’s life changes forever, a tragic event, perhaps a blessed event (that is really for the reader to decide)… and then the real story begins. I won’t say more, it’s too great an adventure to spoil.

So that’s my thoughts for the day… It’s a “New day, a new dawn,” and I must move on. Thanks for reading!

Reflections on Our World

I am but an explorer
Of this world,
A visitor passing through,
Our time here is so short
What we do or say, how much
Impact can we have?

I look back at history,
George Washington,
Thomas Jefferson,
Abraham Lincoln,
Lives so much shorter than ours,
These men did not ask celebrity,
They did what needed done,

Florence Nightingale,
Harriet Beecher Stowe,
They used their gifts, their talents,
To make an impact, to make
This world a better place,

Can I do less? Can we
The creative and gifted of our generation?
What can we do to leave this world
Better than we found it?

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