Categories
Writing

The Novel

Two years ago, before the universe exploded everything around me, I began two very writerly things. One thing was this blog (and what an absolute gift this place has been to me. Writing and a beautiful little band of friends to share my life with? I mean, what life experience could be more wonderful. )

The other writerly thing I began was my very first novel, which became just about my whole entire heart when it began to spin its delicate web within me. I fell in love with the people, the places, the thoughts, the ideas. Everything. My novel felt like a safe and lovely home, and I felt like I was the lucky owner.

Apparently it wasn’t time for the novel, though, because the universe decided to blow my life up and make me a whole new person (thanks very much universe. Oh, you’re really quite welcome, Brooke.)

Anyway, I’m getting silly ( 🙂 )but according to the universe, there were a few more breadcrumbs of life for me to pick up before this novel could take flight…and without ruining the story for you, I can tell you: the universe was right. My goodness, how right the universe was to blow up my world and my novel.

I can’t quite articulate how I feel about the novel now that I’ve returned to it, but I can say that the clarity of thought and expression I now experience in my creative life— due to the meditation and healing I’ve done since then, I’d imagine — has given me a new set of eyes. And a new piece of my heart to write with. My goodness, you guys. It is the most magical, wonderful thing.

A great deal more of my novel makes sense to me now. I couldn’t possibly have written the novel that was asking to be written back then because I didn’t have the right ingredients within the writerly/ humanly cook book of me, then.

But lately I’ve started hearing whispers from the universe and this is what they’ve said:

It’s time. You are ready.

And guys?

It’s true.

I am so completely ready.

Let’s do this.

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Categories
Micro Fiction

The Lolly Shop on Hope Street

The little boy followed the balloon through the Summer streets.

He knew nothing of the balloon except that it was red and tied with a glistening blue string: and that he must follow it, wherever the wind might float it.

And although the boy didn’t understand how he knew, still he knew the balloon was leading him home.

And so he followed.

And so the balloon lead him to the Lolly Shop on Hope Street.

Photo by David J. Boozer on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

On Writing

I write a lot about real life events. Sometimes I connect to fantasy and spin a beautiful story from worlds that don’t exist, but often I write from a place deep within. A place of memory, but more than that. It’s a place of alchemy, the unconscious breathing life into the conscious.

Friends and lovers gone by — how they’ve changed me. Hopes and dreams lost to the wind of time, moments of what if merging with moments of what is. It is a beautiful gift for a writer: to explore the world within, to honour the people, places, life paths that have made us who we are.

I hope my inner world will become a gift for you, also. A mirror to help you discover your own story, and the parts of your soul you’ve yet to explore.

Every person who has grown me into who I am lives within the worlds I write.

And every person that lives within me, through my writing, now lives within you.

I will never take for granted the profound beauty of that.

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Categories
Sun and Moon

Best Friends

‘Sun?’

‘Yes, Moon?’ Sun dribbled out the corner of his frown, watching drearily as a group of star children skipped along a cloud.

‘When was the last time you laughed?’

‘Umm…Oh, I can’t remember, Moon. Too long ago.’

‘Sun?’

‘Oh, what is it, Moon?’

‘Your face is covered in red crayon. It’s a picture of a hotdog running after a cat running after a dog.’

‘Well, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And completely untrue. I’m perfectly shiny, thank you very much.’

‘Well, yes, you are. But you still have red crayon all over your face. I should know. I put it there,’ Moon grinned and gave a most spectacular sparkle.

‘What do you mean, you put it there?’

‘Well, Sun, you remember last week, don’t you? When you said: ‘Moon, when was the last time you laughed? And I told you I couldn’t remember…?’

‘Moon! There’s a giant shadow on the Earth, now. Look! It’s a hot dog running after a cat running after a dog!’

The best friends drew closer in the sky and gazed upon the newly decorated Earth.

And then the laughter came.

smiling women
Photo by Asya Cusima on Pexels.com

 

Categories
Poetry

Write With The Wind

I cannot create unless I soften.

I cannot write with the wind,

I must become it.

I am the beautiful breeze that flows these words into the sky of all things.

Human is but a small part of me.

The blissful wind

I am

is the rest.

Categories
Life

Submissions

A few months ago I received a wonderfully exciting email letting me know that two of my poems are in the running for potential publication. A card company (based in America, I think) is holding them for a while, seeing how well they might hold up within their market space. If the poems do look as though they may sell…my words, and my heart, will be floating across a greeting card or a thousand. How exciting. Since I was young, I’ve thought that might be a nice dream to achieve.

This afternoon, I sent three more poems off for review, and two children’s picture story books. Imagine that: all it takes is to write and believe, and suddenly the world becomes something new. Possibility. And possibility then becomes a beating heart, sent to replace the old one that went about the day without too much more to hope for.

This is the beginning of a beautiful new life, for me. I’m in love with myself for the first time in my life. I’m thrilled to have found a beautiful connection with my writing; unlike ever before, it flows without even the thought of a pause.

I’m falling apart quite often, still, and rather confused about the whole ‘love’ thing: why I didn’t just stick to seventeen year old me’s decision to swear off men forever, is absolutely beyond me.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. Man, or no man, I have an open heart that’s ready to share. And it’s so beautiful to have it flowing and connecting with everything that I am…I could take or leave romance, I suppose.

Maybe I’ll just write about it, instead. ☺️

Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 14. Liberation

Crisp walls and lavender fresh linen. It was her mother who insisted on such drastic perfection and, until now, it had never occurred to Geraldine that life had the option to be anything other than perfect. She would be forty in a month, and although her Mother would not approve, Geraldine craved something more. Something wild. Something actually really quite bad.

She flung a leg out of the bath and breathed into her belly: hold one, two three…a cool, soothing wind on the out-breath. What if she did allow herself a regression to the grotty child that once she was? An ignorant small human, who far too often muddied the guest couch—and her mother’s delightfully manicured day. A child who, one day, would find the courage to tell her mother that the couch had been, in fact, the hills coming alive with the romping, stomping wonderful sound of music.

Darling,‘ her mother would say, through a smiling mouth and chainsaw eyes. ‘You must always be good.‘ Eventually, the words and the eyes had the desired effect, and Geraldine did, indeed, grow into the neatly folded girl her Mother had groomed her to be. Perfection in a girl, life under strict lock and key. Geraldine was the fly in the web of her mother’s high standards. Alive but not living. Rotting away under the critical eye of the long-legged other in her life.

Her bathrobe waited to give her a warm hug after the bath was over. What if she didn’t use it? What if she stood, dried, and walked about the house. Naked. She lived alone, but even so, free range nudity was a luxury afforded only to men, and those unfortunate women requiring external stimulation for the treatment of low self-esteem. Nudity— even solo nudity—was not for good girls.

Until, of course, it was.

Geraldine rose from the tub and reached for the gracefully folded towel that lay atop the sparkling white sink. Perfection died tonight. Her mother’s hold on her life died, all limbs bared, tonight.

The soft leather couch was like warm paint to her naked skin. Although the liberation of nudity felt wonderful, it was…still not enough. Geraldine needed more. And so it was, that more arose.

As if by some miraculous order of the universe, some equally trapped eternal wind searching for life, the doorbell rang.

Geraldine smiled.

She rose from the couch, without a beat, without a care.

Darling, indeed, she thought.

Darling, indeed.

 

 

Categories
Life

Fear

‘Sun?’ said Moon, as she wandered along the path of cloud that lead to their shared home in the sky.

‘Yes, Moon?’

‘I’m afraid.’

‘Of what?’

‘Of everything. Of nothing, of…oh, I don’t know. I’m just afraid.’

Sun stopped abruptly on the path and turned to take Moon’s hands in his own.

‘It’s okay to be afraid, Moon, but there is no need to be. Fear can only survive in darkness, and you are made of far too much light to feed it what it needs. Have faith. Your fear will be gone before too long.’

Moon didn’t quite understand what Sun meant. But she loved him and respected his wisdom. So she took a deep breath and focused on the shine he told her was the key.

And though the fear returned occasionally, it did not have a home within her. It only had visiting rights.

She could grow to be comfortable with that.

Categories
Life

A Little Time Away

My dear bloggy friends,

I’ve been thinking on a more practical level (which, let me tell you, is highly unusual in the world of this cloud bouncing dreamer) and my thoughts have led me to a little bloggy holiday.

I’m questioning the sanity of this decision, given the lovely distraction this place gives me from all the yucky things of life, but I do think that even just a few days away might be nice. I’ve been blogging almost every day, for quite some time now. A little bloggy holiday might be quite a lovely thing, now that I really think about it.

Obviously, a lot of emotional processing is happening for me at the moment and, although I don’t necessarily feel I need to take a break from blogging…I figured it certainly wouldn’t hurt to take some days off from this little bloggy land of mine.

Things need to move in my world, and over the next few months, I’ll be slowly making some decisions in order to move them. The practical reality of a newly separated Mum of two little muffins hangs over me like a giant hand reaching from the sky, ready to squash me flat. In other words: I need to earn some money soon, or things are going to go from bad, to worse, to really terribly horrible. I’d like to avoid any sort of bug-on-windscreen action, If I can get away with it.

As much as I adore this beautiful bloggy land (and certainly don’t plan on saying goodbye to it anytime soon) my focus needs to shift to more practical matters, and the first of those is…how to turn the skills I have into the job of my dreams. I’m a writer. Right? I could write. But then what will I write about, and who will pay me for what I write, especially if I’ve given no thought to the words I have to share. There are many avenues I could begin to peer down, career-wise, and after I’ve wrapped my head around the emotional upheaval my beautiful little family is facing at this time— it’ll be time for this love-hearty dreamer to get busy.

A bit of time away from here won’t get me a job, or an instantly love-hearty life, but it will free up a little bit of energetic space, which I can then use to get a bit clearer on things. I’m so excited about the possibilities!

So! I’ll see you guys in…I’m not really sure how long actually, guys! It could be a few days, it could be a week that turns into two, I’m just not sure. But what I do know is that the time away will not be wasted. Life is too precious to be wasted on less than wonderful.

It’s time, now, for me to get clear on exactly what my kind of wonderful looks like.

And then make it happen.

apple magic mouse and white ceramic mug
Photo by Burak K on Pexels.com

 

 

 

Categories
Books

Books Vs Social Media

I’m reading again. I’m reading a lot, actually. My goodness, it’s all the lovely things.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to read for all the years books went missing from my life. I blamed it on the quick and easy of social media. How convenient it was to click onto an article offered by Facebook, or Twitter, or whatever platform I was virtually chillin’ my life away on.

I first discovered Facebook in my early twenties, and WHAT wonder IS this! My goodness. The possibilities of that place seemed endless. In fact, were it not for Facebook…I’d not have re-met the man who eventually became my husband (and super fun guy Dad to my two beautiful kiddlywinks.)

I became so ‘into’ Facebook at one point, I considered it a problem. I was desperate to get rid of it because it seemed to be sucking so much life out of me, but how to take the giant leap away? It just would not let me go. It was my curiosity for what was going on in the comment section that found me in the deepest water. I was becoming deeply affected by ALL the opinions, and consequently, I was very slowly disappearing beneath them.

Looking back, I see what the problem likely was. All that social media drama must have been doing quite the number on my brain. No wonder the calm and quiet energy of reading seemed to have fallen by the wayside. My brain was addicted to noise. Not only was it addicted to the action…it was also addicted to being seen, to being heard, to being loved.

I don’t know when all that changed, but I know it was by happy accident. I think it was after the birth of my second child, maybe, when I was just too busy to even think about the delightful terrors gifted to me by the comment section. I was also in the thick of things with my Masters at the time—completely immersed in my little collection of short stories. It was such a swift and sneaky cut off, I don’t even recall the day I stopped and said, Facebook what, now?

And so, just like that, the addiction was gone. I will admit that I have really come to enjoy Instagram for the creative platform it provides (and the odd chance to share some of my bright and shiny pom poms with the world.) But I don’t see myself returning to that addictive social media space anytime soon. I lost far too much of myself there once upon a time—too many hours, too much of my calm and happy—to risk going back.

Not to mention my precious books. Sigh. Thank goodness I have them back again.

book shelves in a room close up photography
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