I took a higher dosage of my prescribed medication so I could attempt to get back on track. Thankfully, I accomplished 29,702 words written with 20,298 to go. I have
59.4 % completed according to Writing.com’s calculator.
I saw Lisa made progress today. I’m happy for Carly she finished. We can do this Lisa.
I got an interesting message from my writing class instructor this afternoon that helped validate my insanity. “BTW I’ve just finished reading your chapters. Excellent!” He gave me an exclamation point, the man never does that. Raz always says save the exclamation point for the best possible moment and only use one in a book to make it damn good.
I’m off to bed, tomorrow I go to Philadelphia to get my Botox injections and to discuss with the doctor about changing my medicines so I have relief longer than a week. This is the third month in a row where the nerve block hasn’t lasted longer than a few days. There has got to be something different to try.
“Truth is everybody is going to hurt you: you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.” ~ Bob Marley
Leaves flutter wildly in the wind
The colors burst upon my soul
scattered thoughts defiantly pinned
The Soledad is an ancient Spanish stanza consisting of three eight-syllable lines with the first and third lines rhyming, as described and demonstrated in the following link: http://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/index.php?/topic/1023-soledad/
More examples can be found here: http://www.rainbowcommunications.org/wordplay/forms/Soledad.pdf .
“You don’t know you exist until you see your name chiseled in stone or on the cover of your book. That’s when you become immortalized.”~Lyn Crain
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”~ Edgar Allen Poe
19,148 words thus far in Death and I, the story of Mairin, Bruce, and Death.
This weekend I wrote three found poems with snippets of the NY Times again. I had a great helper too. Macavity laid on the snippets and moved several which ended up being just what I needed. I used pieces of the different poems in my story with Mairin, too, so my cutting the newspaper became an exercise in creative thinking.
A family portrait for all humanity
blood, sweat, toil, and tears
unraveling racial hatred
in the darkest hours
of rivers and rituals
Happiness is for other people
those who stay
the once mediocre
seek some calm
for them, it’s not discrimination
A war of words underway
The screaming just won’t stop
we seek our way to death.
An enlightened friendship
when coffee brews a different spirit
in all its realness
Sweetness with a side of sarcasm.
is an unwanted
brutal final indignity.
It penalizes what we had
years of relying on what
no one knows.
The dots to greatness
Yup, he had a good idea. The coffee poem and the metamorphosis both improved with his help.
“Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one’s reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance.”
― Yoko Ono
A lady I knew in Maine, my rival when it came to Halloween decorations passed away unexpectedly yesterday. We’re the same age, and our children are the same ages. I was reminded how short our lives truly are.
I want to take a moment for the families in Texas whose world was turned upside down in a moment of violence. They are in our prayers. I don’t understand why anyone would do that to another human being.
I’ve written 8650 words, monumental for me in 5 days. I was feeling overwhelmed with my character so I decided to take a mental health break. I made a Thanksgiving centerpiece wreath for our table. It went to together easy enough considering this is my very first attempt at making a wreath. (Yup, I followed a youtube video.) The glitter all over the floor was messy and everywhere with help from Macavity. Overall the project took just over two hours from start to finish and the result was very eye appealing.
in what once
was a nation
A Gambler’s Anatomy
City of Dreams
Where America Begins
The Man Who Chose
March of the Lexicon
Words on the Move
Cruel Beautiful World
It’s no longer
When Music Was Life and Death
The Wrong Side of Goodbye
in a Sleeping World
for I Will Sin©
Enjoy your Monday. I need to go Mairin, Bruce and Death are calling.
“The woman who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has been before.” —Albert Einstein
I wrote 3295 words this morning. I got up at 6am and sat writing until noon. I didn’t move except to refill my coffee and to use the bathroom. I decided that I better move around some I worked on taking down Halloween and putting up Thanksgiving. It’s disappointing to me how few decorations there are.
Outside the house, all signs of Halloween have disappeared for another year. Hopefully, we will be living somewhere new by the time Halloween rolls around again. I’m looking forward to next the adventure. I put the scarecrows and the turkey by the front door. I hung a turkey on the storm door. The living room is packed up but that’s as far as I went today.
I decided to have raw veggies, some pepperoni and a cup of tea for dinner and work on the edits Raz sent back. I finished that and decided to work on some more writing. I lost all track of time, missed Grey’s Anatomy again. 😦 but I did churn out 3000 more words.
I haven’t re-read what I wrote yet. I’m happy with calling it a night. I’ll edit tomorrow. I just want to be ahead so I can some quality time with my husband.
I even started a crazy poem today that I’m going to use in my story Death and I
I toss another swig back
feel my lips pucker and eyes bulge.
I know there’s mascara streaks
running down my face.
It hardly matters now.
I wish I’d known love
was cruel before
It played me like a fool.
I’m always wiser
when it’s too late.
So liquor is my new love of choice
I drink your memory away
My friends warn me
drinking is a problem
that it will be the death of me.
Will that even matter?
who knew salvation’s possible
a sip at a time
til bottle’s empty.©
I’ve found myself studying the clock… 3 hours until NaNoWriMo officially begins. Do I go to bed and begin when I rise or do I watch the clock count down and jump in as soon as the clock strikes 12:01am. There are 720 hours or 43, 200 minutes in the month of November. I need to write 1667 words a day or 6.5 pages to meet this goal. I know it’s a do-able goal and there are many successful authors who have done it.
Then I look at myself in the mirror and question my sanity. Then… that dang muse of mine reminds that looking for sanity at this point in my life is hilarious. I haven’t needed it thus far, why do I want it now. Okay, I’ll give my wise-ass muse that point.
The truth of the matter is I really am a driven person, I hate failing. I hate not accomplishing a goal when I set one. However, I wasn’t always like this. There was a point in my life when fear crippled me. Charlotte Eriksson wrote this quote and it summed how I felt for years until I became friends with Vic.
“I thought that if I owned nothing, had nothing, was nothing, I would have nothing left to lose, and I wouldn’t be scared anymore. Because my whole life I’ve been so damn scared. Scared to live because I was scared to death. But at the same I was so scared of living, so I wanted to die. Or maybe so scared of dying that I refused to live.”
He’s patiently encouraged me, stood beside me when I needed strength and laughed with me when I realized that I was truly my own worst enemy. He’s my best friend, my lover and my husband. Today is our 9th wedding anniversary, yes we married on Halloween. He is my biggest champion when it comes to writing. I am truly blessed to have his support on this writing adventure in November. I also know that he will help me stay sane and keep me from losing it if I get stuck.
The key I’ve been told is to write and to do it every day. The words will come and in the end, regardless of the word count success will follow. I need to remember that the real goal is to write, let that happen and not fixate on 50,000. Don’t fall prey to the double edge sword that breaks so many writer’s dreams.
“The Sun will rise and set regardless. What we choose to do with the light while it’s here is up to us. Journey wisely.”
― Alexandra Elle
I love you, Victor Crain. Thank you for being my best friend and my soul mate.
“A quiet and modest life brings more joy than a pursuit of success bound with constant unrest.”~ Albert Einstein
Our Halloween party was a lot of fun with good friends and an awesome conversation always. I was Charlie Brown for the evening. I shaved my head bald and added the one curly cue on the front of my head with black eyeliner and on the back was the pumpkin face that Lucy had drawn from the show. I wore a yellow and black shirt like his with shorts and ankle socks to finish the look. My hubby was the angry cat, my grandson was a wolf. Among our guests we had Julius Caesar, Athenia, a vampiress, a demon, a star Trekkie, a hazmat worker, a rainbow unicorn, an executive, a musician, a cowboy, a zombie… just to name a few. Like most parties, we also had those who came and didn’t dress up. The companionship was awesome. I enjoy entertaining especially setting the scene and the prep work.
This afternoon a friend of mine, Sara and I joined some other writing friends from our local writing at a coffeehouse meeting in Willow Grove where we had the pleasure of meeting Jon Mcgoran and Keith Strunk. There were so many different genre writers published and unpublished filling the meeting area at Barnes and Noble. The discussion about the process— how we approach our writing was interesting. Some outline, some just free write, and others do binge writing and then stop and come back to it with the hope as they write a story will appear. It’s knowing how we work and understanding what it takes for each of us to write is important. We all need to use what works best for us and go with it. There is no wrong or right way, we simply have to do it. The meeting flew by before I knew it. What I did learn today is how important it is to be with other writers to replenish our wells, validate in our own minds that we’re sane in our love affair with words. One of the writers today at coffeehouse also gave an awesome reminder too. It’s not going to be a perfect piece of work, it may very well be a piece of crap. The important part is to meet the goal and then worry about polishing it. Sitting down every day and doing it… that is the key to success. I felt rejuvenated and ready to do next month’s writing challenge.
I’ve completed all the prep work on Writing. com two days early. I met the deadline and feel good about all my prep work.
“Strength and growth come only through continuous effort and struggle.” —Napoleon Hill
“That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” —Friedrich Nietzsche
In the Cemetery
Mairin found herself wandering again in the cemetery. Sleep was elusive these days. She found it harder and harder to sleep knowing that her inevitable demise was a reality. Cancer, that terrifying six letter word changed her perspective on a lot of things these days.
She wandered off the cobblestone path in search of the trickling water sound because of a sudden urge to put her toes in the icy water of the stream that ran along the cemetery. She’d forgotten about the meadow, it would be a superb place to lie on a blanket and read a book some afternoon. Mairin didn’t recall seeing a headstone before over here. Strange place for it and why does this gravestone sit alone?
Mairin was sure there must be more to this unresolved story than meets the eye. Why this crooked headstone isn’t perfect like all the other stones in Craven’s Loft Cemetery. The stone carver would be disappointed to see his work isolated and in such bad shape. She felt confident there was a good reason it was placed in this leaf-strewn meadow along the stream’s edge but looking around under this fog-shrouded moon the answer wasn’t clear. What was clear that sleepless nights were becoming her norm. The tall pines cast an eerie shadow but the earthy aroma felt comforting in this lonely place.
Mairin traced her finger across the stone edge. The cold granite felt smooth like glass except for the right corner. Ow, damn it, that hurt. Mairin looked at the blood trickling from her finger. She sucked on her finger savoring the salty taste as she noted the name on the stone. Bruce Lewis. Oh my god, that can’t be. Mairin stumbled back. Her feet refused to budge and her knees buckled. She collapsed on the ground.She shook more than the birch trees in the night breeze as she read.
Bruce Lewis age 64 years of age. The marker said deceased on October 31, 2001. October 31st 2001, that’s a year from now. The birthdate read March 3, 1953. What the hell was going on? The name and birth date are correct but he’s not dead. Bruce was very much alive. Bruce was on a business trip and was due back on Friday. Mairin trembled knowing there was something creepy but she couldn’t for the life of her imagine what. She looked around feeling uneasy when she noticed lying beside the stone a lacy black glove haphazardly across some dried maple leaves. The fog dissipated and the moon glowed brightly above her as Mairin picked up the strangely familiar glove. It’s not possible but there were three black pearl buttons along the edge. It can’t be…. how did my glove end up here?
The wind rustled the pine and the pungent aroma wafted in the air. Mairin staggered to her feet with the glove tightly. Her throat felt raw and scratchy as she retraced her steps back to the main walkway out of the cemetery. None of this made any sense. She should call Bruce and tell him what she discovered. On second thought probably not. He already thinks she’s losing her mind since she got the diagnosis.