Categories
14 Day Creative Challenge

Charlotte’s Web. and why I am me because of it.

Perception is a vastly misunderstood word, I think, because, for the most part, we use it in very one dimensional terms. It looks like that man over there is grumpy. It sounds like he is, too, given he’s just yelled at the mail man.

But have we been underestimating the truth of what it is to be human? Are we forgetting to tap into the depth that lies beneath the known? Our five senses really only begin to explain to us the absolute vastness that is the universe within and around us.

And Charlotte’s Web helps me to know this truth, in my own life.

Because I feel it. Every word, every meaning, every heartbeat of its beautiful flow…I feel it within, like a gentle wave, like a Mother’s touch. The subtle energy of the book tells me everything I need to know about it, and me, and who I have become because of it.That, to me, is profound and beautiful. And really rather magical, when I think about it.

The energy of Charlotte’s web (or, perhaps you might like to think of it as the ‘voice’ or ‘essence’ of the writer) is soft, gentle and wise. It makes me feel safe in a very real sense. It holds me in an invisible world that I only know because of my relationship with what lies beneath the words.

Such is the power of a beautifully written book.

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Categories
Life

Authentically Not Myself

I am authentically myself when I am not at all myself, and it is magical, beautiful, wonderful.

What do I mean by this? Well, I’m not sure. It’s a little too obscure to understand or explain, but I’m certain you’ve felt it. I’m certain you’ll know what I mean when I tell you.

I’ve been reading the BFG to my son. He’s seven, and the best, and so naturally I want to give him the most beautiful experiences life has to offer. Reading is one of those experiences, and the magic of Roald Dahl is…well, it’s magic. There’s no real way to capture that feeling, for me.

And when I read this beautiful story to him, I so often find myself transformed. Every night I become the BFG. I put on my unusually accurate english accent and off I go. I am the BFG (or am I Roald Dahl, it’s hard to really say.)

It’s what I loved so much about acting. Embodying and expressing energies that are not my own is so intoxicating I could easily become addicted to the very thing. The deep booming cutesy tone that flies from my mouth every time the BFG speaks to Sophie: it fills my whole body, it resonates down to the bone.

I so love it.

I so love being authentically me, without being me at all.

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Categories
Writing

The Subtle Art of Patience

It’s odd, the way my novel is writing itself. I write in short bursts, for what reason, I couldn’t tell you.

I develop a beautiful flow, find a sweet new piece of the puzzle to slot into place. Then, the door closes. I do not know why it’s working this way, but I’m learning to trust that this is the way this novel wishes to be born.

I am resisting a little.

A big part of me gets cross. Just keep writing. Now. Today, this minute: push through the stop sign and write some more.

But I can’t.

I write in short sharp bursts.

The story comes in short sharp bursts.

It’s a lesson in waiting.

It’s a lesson in the subtle art of patience.

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Categories
Writing

Culling

I’ve just sent some picture book manuscripts off to a literary agent. I feel a lot more confident in the process since having completed the picture book course last year, so that’s my next aim. To have one of my word babies published to a wider market.

I have such fond memories of childhood reading…publishing books for children would be an absolute honour. I love writing picture book texts. I find the challenge of condensing what could potentially be a long story into a short and lovely thing to be very rewarding.

Since uni, I’ve become a little addicted to the art of culling. Culling words, that is. For some reason, I find it extremely satisfying. Taking a clunky sentence and seeing how many words I can remove from it, in order to make it shine. You’d be surprised how many words can be culled without having a negative effect on the sentence. In fact, culling words often brings a sentence more power. Hence, the satisfaction.

Less is more, isn’t that what they say?

Less is mo… ;p

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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.

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Categories
Life

Some News and Some Waffling

Hello, my very bloggy friends. 🙂

How are you all? (We’re good, Brooke. How are you?) Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking. Ha ha ha. I’m being an idiot— I’ll shut up now. 😛

I’m popping in with the ‘me’ version of me to let you guys know I’m doing another ‘video thing’ on IGTV (Instagram) tonight, giving a writers perspective on The Catcher In the Rye. All the nerdy goodness, my gosh. 🙂 I’ve filmed the video already and will be uploading it tonight at about 8pm Aus. time, so feel free to check it out, if you’d like. _brookecutler_ is my tag name.)

And guys…I was serious about the ‘how are you all?’ I hope everyone is staying safe, and feeling mentally fresh in the face of all of this muddy tar that’s been heaped onto us from virus land. I’ve been remarkably unaffected by the whole thing— basically because I choose not to watch the news (that and because I’m still in a bit of a spiral of my own mud that there’s not a lot of leftover space for me to indulge in collective aches and pains.)

I know and respect the realities of the situation, however, and I take precautions in order to keep myself and everyone else safe, but ultimately I feel like it’s my job to help lift people out of this thing. And If I’m taken down by other people’s fears, I’m no good to anyone, I don’t suppose.

Especially not my beautiful bubs, who so completely need their Mum on the tracks and chugging along. Speaking of my beautiful bubs, my little miss three-year-old split her forehead open on a door frame the other day. The gash was deep, you guys. Oh my goodness. My baby. Eight stitches and she smiled through the whole ordeal, the beautiful muffin. I’d so appreciate you sending her some super healing love hearts. x

Do I have any more nonsense to waffle? I don’t think so, but I’ve so loved this little waffle session— maybe I’ll come and do more waffling at you over the coming weeks. I really have felt an intense need to ‘be there’ for everyone, because I understand that people will be reacting differently to this whole thing. If I can entertain, or hold space, or just ‘be here’ for anyone who needs any or all the above needs met…I’m so ridiculously happy to do that.

I always miss you guys when I go floating off into Brooke- land.

And I’ll always, always cherish coming back to our special, quiet place.

xx Brooke

three women sitting on rock infront of ocean
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Categories
Life

Quiet Nights

Dreams are born

on quiet nights.

Categories
Books

Books and Reality

I’ve had thousands of best friends and hundreds of mortal enemies.

I’ve been married a hundred times and divorced a hundred times more than that, probably. I’ve had lovers aplenty, built homes, mucked stables…and all this time, I’ve insisted I am an alone person. Oh no. I have never been alone, not for a day of my whole life long.

Books are sneaky like that, aren’t they? They introduce us to friends as real as the ones that stand before us, and they break our hearts just as deeply as a lost real-life love might. Books are a powerful force, and they are as real as reality itself: because, actually, what is reality? Our mind’s perception of a scene laid out before us.

That description of reality sounds an awful lot like our experience of a book, don’t you think? The difference being: a book gives us longer to sit within the scene and hold it up against our real life for review. True reality, in contrast, usually comes and goes in a flash.

I invite you to open your mind and your heart to the idea of a book and its characters being as real as any other aspect of reality. Think of how beautifully full life would be if we all embraced that idea. No one would ever be lonely— our books would see to it that we’d have a friend for every day of the week, or at least for whenever we really wanted one.

Think of a book as another room in your house, a room filled with the most beautiful, quirky, joyful friends you could ever wish to find. That’s what I’m going to be doing from now on. And that’s how I know that I’ll never truly be the alone person I always thought that I was.

selective focus photography of brown wooden book shelf
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Categories
Spirituality

A Letter From The Soft Girl

Dear Brooke,

I’m well, thank you for asking.

Yes, I do believe you are perfectly capable of anything you choose to do in this life. It’s okay it took you a while to figure that out. You were meant to take a while to figure that out.

Yes, I do love you. So, so, so dearly. And yes: this absolutely is the greatest love of all, because I love you even when you think you don’t deserve to be loved. Oh. You’re totally welcome, girlfriend.

Yes, I forgive you for forgetting how wonderful you are from time to time. Humans do this odd thing, at times (what silly duffers, you are.) Rest assured, the universe won’t allow you to linger in the cranky pit for too long. Your smile has too many other smiles to welcome into the world.

Yes, I’m glad you’re worrying less and saying ‘bugger it’ more. If they can do it, you can do it. So…bugger it, off you go then. It’s well and truly your turn.

Yes, I am real. I am real, I am real, I am real, I am real. I have given you more than enough proof. Please. Believe me already. (It’s okay that you don’t believe me, btw. That’s just another one of those wacky human problems. Never mind. You’ll get there.)

Yes, I am always available when you need my advice. Haven’t you noticed? I tend to offer it anyway. Even when you think you don’t need it. Especially when you think you don’t need it.

Yes, I write most of your blog posts. Yes, it’s okay that you take the credit. I am you, and you are me, after all. Confusing, I know. We’ll get to know each other more comfortably before too long.

Yes, your truth will shine now that you have given it permission to do so. Just know, however: your shine will look different to all humans. You must never expect others to see you as you do. For instance, your ‘shine’ will look grey to those who only see the world in black and white. That’s okay. Black and white eyes do not see incorrectly. They just see differently.  Yes, you still have a thing or two to learn about this part.

Yes, I am responsible for half the books in your bookshelf. No. I’m not sorry. We needed them. Eeek. Sorry, trees.

Yes, this is the final point, until the next time you need me.

So much love, darling human girl. You’ve so totally got this.

Scratch that: we’ve totally got this. xx

Love,

The Soft Girl

(aka: your soul. Aka: your intuition. Aka: the actual you.)

man in black shirt decorative oval frame near white printed paper
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Categories
Life

Words

Words roll in and out of me like breath.

I can’t imagine not reading and writing, just as I can’t imagine what it might be like never to breathe again.

Sometimes the words I write make no sense to me, or to anyone else that reads them. I don’t think that matters, now that I really think about it—no one understands the meaning of each individual breath they take. Well, at least, I don’t think they do…but I’m a big believer that anything is possible, and so I’m happy to keep an open mind on that one.

Words are the mirror that helps me see my life, and as I send my words into the world I offer that mirror to you so that you might see your life in relation to my own. I think that’s one of the gifts of books and reading the words of others: the opportunity to understand aspects of our lives, through the lives of others.

Through my own words, I see and feel my world.

Through the words of others…I see and feel my world from a different angle.

As simple as it is, I believe that humans and our words are the real magic of life.

I choose never to take that shared loveliness for granted.

woman reading a book
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