Tag: words

2 + 2 = Dizzy

It has been 9 months since I lost my job and have been home, every single day.

That’s 268 days of me trying to figure out how to use this “down time” to work on writing. Sad reality is… there is now “down time.”

Yet, here I am, 6432 hours into something that was supposed to last “three weeks.”

385,920 minutes of a situation so repetitive I feel I shouldn’t be moving forward–maybe I’m not moving forward–maybe I’m just spinning in circles. I’ve become a broken clock that twirls on a pin attacked to a cog that isn’t touching anything else.

Well, damn. I guess that’s a top. I am a top.

Yes, sirs and ma’ams, theys and thems — 23,155,200 seconds of me going round and round and round and round… no wonder I’m so damn dizzy.

The world is a blur that has lost its color, pigment drained from the thick black lines outlining what I’d come to perceive as my reality. I’ve found myself missing something I wasn’t sure I liked in the first place–but it’s is the something I knew, the something that was comfortable.

Spinning isn’t comfortable.

Especially without color.

Now, if you’re wondering what is the point of this post? I supposed it’s me sharing with you that I’m not okay. I’m just okay enough. I would say I’m fine but that’s a complete lie and I could say I’m terrible, but it’s not that bad. It’s just the spinning.

One day I hope to post about writing (because I’m still writing) or about books I’m reading (because I’m reading two at this moment — one by Nico Walker and the other by Joe Hill.) Words form in my head to describe them to me but not in my mouth to describe them to you.

Guess I’ll just keep on spinning and hope when I fall the couch is at my side, and I tip in the right direction. Until then, this is me saying, if you’re not okay, you welcome to be not okay with me–we can be not okay together. Until we’re all okay again.

Best,

AS

Advertisement
by Categories: Life, WritingTags: , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

Life in General

57525-painting-Alyssa_Monks-748x497
painting by Alyssa Monks

Inspiration. When I first started writing I looked for it everywhere. Sometimes, I still set out on a quest, searching. The problem is I never know what I’m searching for. Not until I find it.

The older I get, the less I rely on inspiration. I put all my energy on hard work.

Maybe when you’re younger you can’t hear how it’s really hard work that makes the difference. Maybe you’re not ready to hear it. Or maybe you already feel you’re doing all the hard work–with little to no reward.

Maybe I’m talking about myself.

That’s more than likely.

Yet here I am.

The interweaving roads I walk in this life can feel too great to accomplish at times, yet when I stare back, my footprints have been left on all of them.

Unrational fears are the first thing I create. I dismiss my factual proof and cling to reactions. Overreaction. Fear. All the different shades of the unwarranted emotion that clings to me like frizz to my hair on a humid day.

I’m knee deep in denial there is only one real path.

I’m really not in denial. I know there is only way path. It’s through. One foot in front of the other, never give up, ignore all the name calling and bullshit, on the path that leads to my goals.

Goals.

Do you have some? Any? None.

I have too many.

That’s a lie. I have one. People think I have many. People tell me what I should do with my life all the time. I listen. In one ear and out the other. I’m not lost. I’m quiet. I’m busy. Always plotting. Maybe it looks like I’m being lazy.

You can call me a lot of things. I’m not lazy.

Never been.

I should be lazier. It would be good for me. Not doing anything would be good for me. Not. Doing.

Stop.

In the darkness, there is a solace. In the silence, there are the loudest shouts ever heard. I hear it ALL DAY LONG. I hear it now. In the words, music, streets, in the people around me. They all say the same. They have a story.

I have a story.

We all are stories. One billion of them. No, more than a billion. A trillion. A quadrillion. Stories everywhere. Whispers on silent lips.

It’s hard work to hear them. To shuffling through. To find the right ones. They must fit better than custom-made kid gloves. Perfection in every fold.

And it circles around. It always circles around.

Pay attention.

Quitting is failure. Hard work is the key. There is one path, it’s lined with words, stories–quintillion stories–waiting for you to gently brush your fingers over, breath in, hold.

This is my life, in general. This is me.

I’m not lost. I’m dancing. I’ve always known the way. Just wait, you’ll see.

 

 

 

[this post brought to you by the inspiration from Alt-J’s album, “This is all Yours.”]

 

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Inspiration

Inspiration.

It keeps me awake at night. Trips me up when I’m working out. Distracts me from real life. It is a whisper in my ear telling me what it thinks I need to know. Its message,  a thousand gentle fingertips brushing over my skin, raising each hair in their wake.

Call it a muse.

Paint an image of a woman in a flowy dress or whatever you like, but make sure it warms you on chilled days, lifts you on dreary ones, and dances with you when the sun is out.

I will not call mine muse, it is more like a scent on a breeze. A sprinkle of confection sugar, sweet on the tongue.

Hidden thoughts woven in air.

An enigma, a ghost, a jolt to my psyche. Arriving without announcement, planting seeds intended to devour me. Each spiky root burrows deep, claiming, consuming until I have no choice but to float on its rhyme without reason. For it has none other than to ignite.

I suppose there are things worse than being consumed by ideas, stories, images. Like, not being consumed by anything at all. A blank page, blank mind, the drab vortex of nothingness.

But I have my inspiration. It came calling like a rogue wave, washing over me when I had my back turn, pulling me into its folds. It has claimed me, uncaring of all those other things I should be doing.

I bend at its will because when it planted those seeds it has also molded me into what I’ve become. Thus proving, life without inspiration can only be death.

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , , Leave a comment

The Blog Post

It’s so difficult for me to come on here and write. Not because I don’t want to, but because of life. I write and maintain another blog, one for a whole other branch of my life.

The more I do it, the harder it feels. Not because I don’t like it–I do. But this is what I’ve always wanted the most. Writing. It’s been my greatest love since I was seven years old. I married a writer. I gave birth to a writer… <- that is a 100% true statement. That kid, he loves to spin a good yarn. (and boy does he have the punishments to prove it.)

Does anyone else feel this way? Like, maintaining a blog is too much?

I use my spare time to work on my current WIP. I wake up at 5 am. I stay up late. I sneak in minutes here and there. I work out scenes in my head before I fall asleep, so they’re ready to go when I have my next second to sit in front of this here old computer.

The other bits of time are filled looking back at older, completed (and in dire need of a good edit) WIPs, or forward to a series I have plotted out in my head. Just like the idea of my first High School boyfriend, it’s all consuming.

And the blog is forgotten.

A land of crickets and mothballs. Cobwebs line the pages.

Yet, I want to do it! I want to have a weekly post, but the lists of “Inspirations for Writer’s Blog Posts” are about as inspiring as a cookbook from the 1970s.

How’s this for inspiring:

70s-dinner-party

In case you aren’t sure what I’m referring to ^^ that’s what I mean.

So, dear reader, please forgive me for not posting weekly, monthly, or at all. I have good intentions, much unlike the team at Betty Crocker when the staff thought, “You know what we should stuff? A head of iceberg lettuce! BRING ME THE PIMENTOS!”

“Don’t forget the olives for the fish eyes!!”

Lordy… I’m making a promise to myself to try harder. Maybe I can write about uninspired recipes from each decade? Or I can get back to working on my WIP…?

It’s not a tough decision.

Till next time…

A

 

by Categories: Life, WritingTags: , , Leave a comment

The Lonely Writer (excuses)

My name is Aryn, and I’m a writer. (even though I may not have a book deal–I AM a writer.) And this is my Friday rant:

The Lonely Writer:

Talk to any writer and they’ll tell you how lonely it is. This is a fact, not a lie. Writing is a desert island. Sometimes it has to do with your muse. The only way to isolate the perfect ideas is to to sequester yourself from outside influences. (And I don’t mean you stop reading other books, or participating in general every day life. That’s crazy.)

Then there is the actual work. You don’t need (or want) a buddy pushing the keyboard buttons for you. Thus, again, alone. Fingers tapping on keys. Tap-a-tap-a-tap. In solitude.

Then editing… (editing is like literary plastic surgery. It puts you elbow deep in syntax and metaphors. E’s everywhere! Cover your eyes…)

But let’s not forget the other factor. After a while, non-writers really get tired of hearing your ramblings about your next “big idea.” I don’t know why… I mean, seriously, it’s genius! My ideas are brilliant!

Ah! funny….

Anyway, I have been “on a break” this past week. Trust me when I say, it’s me–not my writing. My writing is beautiful and kind–but I’ve drifted from it’s side. Now I feel more like my writings friend than a lover, which is a BIG issue. Not insurmountable, but that feeling is what led to this weeks hiatus.

Luckily, it’s not the total white noise of writers block. There are still some plot lines trickling it, but they’re all unrelated to my current WiP.

This is the curse of being a writer–besides feeling alone there are all the fake people in your head demanding you tell their story–NOW!

And suddenly I realize that I’m writing this blog post to justify my week off. HA! I may be alone in this, or maybe you feel the same–but I don’t regret the break. I needed my brain clear. I needed to be able to see the trees from the forest. And I needed to clean my house. It’s kinda gross… I mean, if I HAD friends and they stopped over, I’d be super duper embarrassed..

In the end:

Life is what you make of it–so is writing. And that means some times you need to stop what you’re doing to regroup, allowing you to move forward with all those plans. (and stories)

I hope you’re all well and enjoying a fantastic day, where ever you are. But most of all, I hope you’re listening to good music, embracing the life you have. Even if today is the day you look to excuses, let tomorrow lead to your truth.

Happy writing! xxoo-a

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Plotting and planning

Welcome to another week in the life of, well, me… Yup! I’m sitting here doing what I do weekly, blogging while I think about what I need to get done.

This is a long list.

I’ve spent the last few weeks distracted and consumed by many other things, thus sucking up my writing time. Before the turn of the calendar, I had a plan. I had time mapped out. And I stuck to it.

There there is the secret of writing, my friends. Make a plan, and stick to it. Make time to plot your book, outline your book, write your first draft, and then make the most time for the edits you’ll be doing.

Because you’ll be doing freaking edits. I bring this up a lot. I’ll keep bringing it up a ton. Why? Because no book is written in one sitting. Maybe on a rare occasion–but for the most part it’s a succession of repetitive writing and editing.

This the week I get back to this routine I worked out months ago.

Also last week, but in my writing world, I mad two major (massive) changes to my WiP–this will create a time delay. But they changes are important. They elevate my idea, raising it to a level that it deserves to be in.

My hope is that this spot–this Monday post–will transform into my actually showing you portions of said WiP within the next month or so. Feedback is welcome. Feed back is–always–welcome. 🙂

So, to all you writers out there who stumbled upon this post–lets get to work. The world needs some words to read. And not just mine. You’re too.

Happy writing!! xxoo-A

by Categories: Monologue Monday, WritingTags: , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Writers gotta write

I don’t normally post on Tuesdays, but I’m making an exception this week.

Since this blog has my name on it, I feel it should contain posts that represent the true me. Most days, I stick with writing. But like the rest of you, there is more to me than on single facet. I am a mother, wife, artist, friend, sister, and even an Aunt. I love this world.

Most days I love this world.

Lately I’m not sure how I feel about this world.

It’s like there is this spinning Doctor Who-esk vortex churning up the sky–and our lives. But instead of sucking Daleks out of London, it’s spewing anger and hate into our universe.

As writers, we are meant to observe. Even if we’re sitting down to write fantasy, science fiction, or whatever your favorite genre based fiction is. We MUST observe.

The world around us is an endless source of story ideas, characters, setting, plot lines, and the very fabric we use to color our stories. It is the endless well that nourished our spirit. And now, our world is filled with so much “inspiration” it’s hard to look at or think of anything else.

But we must.

No, I’m not suggesting we turn away. We are the writers, the note-keepers, the narrators. It is our job to document life–even if it’s cleverly placed on a planet in another galaxy all together.

What I am saying is we need to absorb, process, and work. We need to write new blog posts, poems, short stories, novels–whatever we can that will help, encourage, fill in the many voids out there.

I want to write this special Tuesday Post to say, “Good Job!” and “Keep it up!” to every writer I know. To every writer who reads this.

To every artist who will be using their medium to show the world what it needs to see/hear/read.

Life is beauty. Beauty is art. Therefore, art is life and it’s beautiful. Sadly, we’ll be needing to dust off the beauty so we can all see it.

Have a beautiful Tuesday, readers. And go out and share your words, art, happiness with the world. It can use a lot of happy.

xxoo-A

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Musing about life

My writing life is slow going this year. Yes, it’s only two weeks into the new year, but I feel behind on all things word driven.

Finding inspiration has been limited. Isn’t it interesting that when I had NO time to write, my brain laid out story after story. Now time is abundant and my brain as quiet as an empty church.

I like having things plotted out–and I’m not only talking about my stories. I’m talking about my life. Yes, it sounds tedious and not very spontaneous, but a good mapped out plan will help you get to where you want to go.

Without all the mess that can get in your way.

 

Cheers to a new week of words and writing! May it be kind to you and to me.

xxoo-A

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , Leave a comment

Wednesday’s Writing Prompt

“He told us a very exciting story…”

Here is mine:

He told us a very exciting story.

He did. Sadly, I can’t remember most of it. At the time I was enthralled. No, it was more than that–I was bewitched by the idea that what he said was true, and that it–somehow–had a relation to my life. 

It didn’t. 

It never does. 

There are a variety of types of people you’ll meet in your life. Some you’ll love. Many you will loath–and then there is the used car salesmen who rope you like an aging steer with their words. 

It’s only after the aphrodisiac wears off, and they are hundreds of miles away, you realize your wallet is missing. 

Now show me yours:

Happy writing! xxoo-A

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Words on parade

The words run circles in my brain. Round and round and round… It gets so bad I have problems focusing on real life issues. Have I eaten? Should I sleep? Where’s my child…?! (kidding)

This hasn’t happen in a very long time.

At this moment, I have a scene trapped in my head. Each time I play it over, it grows. A little bit bigger, and bigger still–now it’s cutting into my editing time.

When I was younger, and would free write–or go the route of a pantster–this was a normal thing. Distraction by words. Distraction by imaginary people begging to be met in their own space. But once I began plotting , these episodes of utter chaos dwindled.

I didn’t realize how much I missed them.

Now I have research to do for this budding idea, and with only two weeks left until the Holiday Break at my child’s school–I have to get my butt in gear. Edit, plot, draining words so overly swollen they distract me from my current goals… It’s like a word lobotomy, but much less permanent.

Oh, words… how you love to haunt me.

xxoo-A

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , , Leave a comment