When you enjoy the moment . . .
. . . stories flip and frolic through your eyes and into your head like crazy fireflies flittering about in your July lawn.
No joke. Enjoy this moment. Look out the window, and you know what “they” say . . . “When a writer looks out the window, he/she’s working.”
Life is something so precious that can’t really be put into words . . . it’s meant to be lived, enjoyed . . . breathed in like your last inhale . . .
It’s been thought that the best stories rarely get told . . . what’s your story?
What to write?
Can’t figure out what to write? Write about one of the hardest things to capture, and still one of the most intriguing subjects . . . Write what you observe at the moment, what you see, how you see, who you see, why . . . where. O the sweet factor of the where . . . ;)
The man and the dog . . .
Soft, this soul appears . . . a tall dog, thin, saunters on the sidewalk in t-clack t-clack pairs of shuffling scurries. His brow – the man – looks held up, like a puppeteer’s strings pluck each eyebrow to wander, jumping in a silent sigh of content. Smiling, he walks along in a hobbling manner, the white fur of the hound sneakily shifting by the man’s pretzel legs. The man looks down and in a boyish manner, lays an outstretched palm on the dog’s flip flopping ears that lay down their towers for the moment. The tongue of the hound punctures a hole in its panting mouth. The two stand, the man happy, the dog sniffing. The man like a boy stares ahead at the oncoming traffic of thoughts, pondering future steps just ahead. All the while, his pay of a hand falls on the hound. He takes a hobble forward, tall socks falling a little lower above his red chucks. The hound’s patchy snout resumes sniffing after a break to stare at his leash trailing away in the grip of his companion. The boy of a man wipes his paw to his red hat . . . sunglasses shade a sure smile behind their cover . . . enduring, no – endearing . . . that smile . . . like something’s gone missing, but totally unnoticed, he walks away in bliss, holding contentment like a little boy does that moldy cookie – just as good as any – from the cookie jar.
Early mornings
God got me up early this morning . . . to see His majesty.
Beautiful doesn’t even describe how much warmth and glory exudes from Him.
The sun spritely waves its length across my face, and how warm and chilling these rays sink into my bones. Solitude.
Have you ever experienced solitude with God? It’s more than a picture perfect moment where silence reigns. It’s a silence from your heart that really fits the puzzle. Rest in your mind, relax in your heart, let loose your tension in your muscles, and wake your ears to hear the sound of God’s cooing voice – the voice of a small whisper . . . like a dove . . . yet powerful.
His words whisper to you throughout the day. But, do you ever take the time of solitude to realize what He’s saying to you?
I sat on the back steps, washed in sunshine, trying to put my mind at ease. Dogs barking, cars whirring, birds chirping . . . in the background. But, what’s at the forefront of my mind? My eyes close . . . sunshine sears behind my lids. Speak Lord, for Your servant is listening . . . is hearing . . . is waking my ears to wander into Your words.
Solitude.
Sunshine.
Rest.
Refresh.
Rest.
Sunshine.
Solitude.
It’s a good story . . .
I’ve got a really colorful story to portray . . . to draw, to sketch, to start. It’s called life.
What do you do with your life experiences?
Capture each one in a bottle until you’re ready to let it out . . . breathe it in fully. Imbibe it. Then, script it in a story. Use it to the fullest.
It’s your life.
It’s a good story.
So . . . Here we go . . .
Hi! Yes, I’m alive . . . :) haha.
Of course, we wouldn’t want to spread that rumor around too far.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Yes, I know – shouldn’t do that too much. Detrimental to the spontaneity factor. Yes.
So, think on this . . . but not for too long.
Don’t use someone else’s words to define something – use your own. Yours are the only unique ones, whispering novelty to the world’s worn ears. Everything else has been said . . . except for the locutions that drip from your lips. They’re all your own, sometimes tipping the edge of your fingers that try to capture the feather of your own thoughts. But, yes. They’re yours.
So, do something beautiful with them.
Tick tackin’ away . . .
:) There’s so many songs floating about in my head, wandering around for lack of strings and strums to play them into melody. Well, in other words . . . there’s too many things to write about?
Seriously . . . the ineffableness of God . . . for one, ginormous topic. Another one could be how ginormous is the way it is . . . spelled very strangely.
Finding Never Ever Land, for example. So still . . . so tranquil. Under pixie dust and pirate ships abroad on the colorful oceans that drown under wallowing moons that glow with the fire of flights to be.
So many romantic stories to be twined to the string of life . . .
Too many birds to sing, too many swallows to dance, too many butterflies to bloom . . . and still, the one you write will be the most brilliant of them all.
What will you seize today?
Have you ever
Not felt like writing? Well, there’s a cruel block that sears the brain from speaking to the fingers. It’s called Brain Fuzz. Not really, but we’ll go with it. You know, the best thing to do when you don’t want to write is take a pen, start squiggling it around the paper. Then, you get the ink flowing out of your fingers and it all begins with a spark of black or blue or whatever color you choose. Then, journal about your day, what you’ve done, what you’ve learned, what you found odd, what you realized of love, what you saw as inspiring, what you laughed at, what you . . . Write. Then, you can discover that writing is a piece of you, like riding a bike or laughing aloud at an amusing friend. Writing is something beautiful, but it’s true that is doesn’t always come out that way. :) That doesn’t matter though because life can’t truly be defined by one word at a time. It’s hard to say which word fits the description of something so interesting as something in life . . . one person said it this way: “to find the right word is like the difference between lightning and lightning bug.” So, what do you do? Well, you just write about the lightning where the lightning bug flies, and it’ll turn out something like a storm, something like a light in a dark place . . . Write. Because if you don’t, you’ll never know . . . will you? :)
Don’t type – write
Have you ever done something so many times that you don’t even think about it anymore? It’s like a second ________. Good job! Language. It’s like you speak it so well, you think in it and all that fun stuff – you’re even making new words with it. And, it’s called typing. Yes sir. Typing.
One of the staples of a good writer is to know how to type. But, how did this come to be? Well, let’s see – we wrote first. Wow, the anatomy of common sense. So, what should you do if you’re a writer? You should _____. Write. You’re a pro already.
Don’t clickety clack all day long until those clickety clacks become monotonous hums that strum from your fingertips. If you really want to be a good writer – you have to write, and that with pen (pencil) and paper, not clicks and clacks and pixelly vitality given to those clickety clacks. Write with your hand, moving up and down, around, scratching out inky letters, removing, transposing the choreography of little locutions that spin and twirl from the pirouetting page.
Write with your hand, the other hand’s fingers holding down the page, and you’ll figure out that you have truly missed it for quite some time.
Five steps to finding your ideal job
We spot them everyday – news anchors, construction workers, sales clerks, artists, authors, and even professional athletes. So, how does that news anchor find an outlet to the Vancouver Olympics, living out his/her dream job? The steps are simple, and it takes just a few moments to realize what you were “made for”.
First, ask yourself the perfect question to push the bouncy ball of indecision into motion: What do I love to do? And, after you ask yourself that question, realize the first thing that comes to mind. It might be writing, or teleprompting, or even selling dog food. Whatever your answer, make sure it’s something that energizes you, something that you are able to do, and something that is your passion.
Second, does it meet your needs? Many people love what they do, but they cannot meet their needs when it comes to making the right amount of money to support themselves. Find out the prospective job’s dividends. Then, compare those numbers to your monthly budget and what you need to survive and thrive. Upon discovering your needs and your wants, you will be surprised at how many opportunities are out there waiting for your application.
Third, can you grow in this field? Let’s say that an employer picks up your application at a gardening store. This store is of private ownership, and you can end up as a manager at best, earning $25,000 a year. If your first aspirations were to become the owner of a chain of gardening stores, then this would not be the correct place for you. So, learn about the environment of your field, in what place you will be planted, and how you can climb the ladder of success within your passion. This being said, you will most likely have to start at a lower rung of the ladder, but don’t be discouraged because if you go into a field pertaining to your passion, “time flies when you’re having fun”.
Fourth, does the job push you? What if you go into the field of sales, but the only thing you end up doing is sitting in a cubicle, pushing pens and filling out papers? Despite being of good pay and benefits, it doesn’t take much effort to do that kind of job; thus, you would become bored, tired, and sorely disappointed. You should want a healthy challenge when it comes to work. (Let’s not go back to that shuddersome cubicle.)
Fifth, does it fit with your values? After looking into the environment that you desire, the money you will make, the growth you will undergo, and the challenges you will overcome, think about your values, your morals – what makes you unique. For instance, if you are a proponent of the rainforest and the environment, then you don’t want to go into construction. But, on a larger scale, remember that your job will mesh with your values. Have you ever heard it said, “You are what you think”? Well, rumor has it that your thoughts become your actions, which become your character, which becomes your life, which becomes you.
So, pick a profession that becomes you very well, and have fun doing it! Pursue a career that you really desire, and do a little research to see if it fits your needs, growth wants, challenge drive, and values.
Can I tell you my favorite part about writing?
My favorite part, all time favorite part, is getting to do something that no one else has ever done in the world – create something totally different than anyone else. To pour my thoughts out on paper, not worry about what the finished product will look like, and just knowing that there’s going to be something exceptionally interesting (to say the least) coming out of my bleeding fingers. There’s always a great sensation when a pen meets the paper, when mind meets wild and nothing looks back to figure out how logic fits into the whole picture of things – until you sweep up the remains of word fragments that the wind passed by not too long ago on your first journey past the indescribable story the spun itself outright. That’s my favorite part of writing – to capture the impossibilities in a word, making it possible. To see something wild as it truly is, not tamed by grammar or anything else, just wild, just windswept, just here for a moment then gone in another reverie of lightning-fast beats of galloping hooves and punctuation that skip along the page for your eyes to gulp in. Just wild. Just free. Just writing.
I think it’s saying something . . .
There’s something to be said about . . .
Think about it . . . what comes after about?
Well, anything you like, of course!
That’s one of the beautiful things about the word about . . . never really leaves you hanging for that long.
So, fill in the blank, please. What about? I don’t know . . . shoot for the moon, I’ve heard it said. If you miss, you’ll land on a star.
Thus, a word to the cautious sojourner of pens and inks. Proceed with wild words, letting them flow from your fingers, indelibly untamed, lucent in their ideas of fancy. Portray something fantastical, vivid, somber, vile, limp, hungry, benevolent, straying, bright, but never diluted. Let it be you. Let it be about . . .
A muse?
Why yes . . .
That’s kinda weird since the a and the muse part can go together quite well . . .
So, do you need a muse to write? I say yes. You may not realize it, but your muse might be you at this moment, pouring yourself into one of your characters. Or, a muse may be a guy/girl you have a crush on for a romantic/handsome character in your next novel. At this moment, there are a few muses I’ve used for my novel . . . first, Airsing and Syocer – God definitely is the sublime Creator of those two. Then, Xavier – my muse? Myself. Then, Zayin – a romantic guy, yes, and then Azriel – a bit of me in there as well.
Have you ever noticed that you begin to ask yourself what you would say in a situation where you place your characters – challenging yourself, your muses, and your situation. That’s the fun part about writing. Muse away! And, amuse yourself with it too . . . writing should flow out of your pen like fun. Leave the drudgery to the edits, that’s where you can add the freckles and such to your skeleton of a story. :)
Names…names…names…
Names are what essentially make up the first glimpse of a character…everything or nothing can be embodied in a single string of letters in the makeup of a name…What does a label tell you about a character? Strength or the lack thereof? Whit or curiosity? Liveliness or the rot of nothing but a life ill written…Let’s see, a character is defined in itself by its confines…and by what a writer describes, namely the labels of a character’s character. So, what does your name reveal?
Creativity spreads its roots…
Let’s start with a sentence, shall we? I haven’t done this in a long while. This, my friend, is always an ingenious way to get the blood flowing from your heart to your fingers…allow me to start you off.
The tea kettle whistled…then write about “The tea kettle whistled” for a minute straight…
Or we can start on something like:
➢ His amenable disposition faltered once, only to be dragged up again to meet the stolid demands of the king.
➢ His energy all but depleted, he thrust his palm atop the last crag of the mountain to hoist his jaded frame above the feat.
➢ His obdurate composure shattered, leaving the pieces of a glossy veil to shield his eyes.
➢ The draught of raindrops, gelid breezes, and sparse slits of sunlight began the day that inferred a sullen reminder of fall’s conclusion.
➢ The pathway’s lithe, tan highway rolled its tortuous dust atop the hills and colorful peat that ran along the isle.
Hmm…so hard to decide…I believe I’ll go with
His energy all but depleted, he thrust his palm atop the last crag of the mountain to hoist his jaded frame above the feat…time me, please! 1 minute starting…..now!
Lithe rays of sunshine spread their frugal wings across his back, singing them with a bronze tint that hung about him until it raised its fingers as he drew his body upright, looking across the field of defeat. What an aspiration to be: a mountaintop sojourner that just made his way to the peak of life. What was it that held his focus for the moment being? That shiny piece of frail longitude that scraped the edges of his eyes forward staid itself atop a momentary slice of something that was said to have been gone…forever…
Time!
All right, let’s see how we did, shall we?…ahm…:
His energy all but depleted, he thrust his palm atop the last crag of the mountain to hoist his jaded frame above the feat. Lithe rays of sunshine spread their frugal wings across his back, sing(e)ing them with a bronze tint that hung about hi(s frame) until it raised its fingers as he drew his body upright, looking across the field of defeat. What an aspiration to be: a mountaintop sojourner that (had) just made his way to the peak of life. What was it that held his focus for the moment being? That shiny piece of frail longitude that scraped the edges of his eyes forward staid itself atop a momentary slice of something that was said to have been gone…forever…
Well, it could have been better, but you get the picture! Not all your works are going to be beautifully written, it’s just a matter of if you write or not…because if you don’t write (because of a fear of writing in itself), then you will never be a writer; for, you have to write, my friend, and the rest will become second nature, as they say. Beautiful or not, writing is the time you take to yield the results of a life worth saving on paper.
