Category Archives: doing what you love

Setting aside the time

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Finding time to set aside precious hours, or even minutes, for those things we truly love to do seems to be more difficult as we get older.  Responsibilities pressure us into doing the right thing and prioritizing family, work and chores leaving little time to do the things we yearn to do.  Hobby items collect dust and ideas for great stories become trapped in the vault of our mind waiting for that large iron door to swing open and let the ideas tumble into the forefront of our thoughts.

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(image courtesy of Google)

I am learning to make more time for myself.  In the winter months it is much easier to make that time since I work the normal Monday to Friday hours that an office job dictates.  However, when the resort opens for the season, I am back to six days a week and generally my work days start at 7:00 am and ends at 6:00 pm, if I’m lucky.  The summer affords me one day off a week which is spent catching up on the aforementioned priorities, leaving little time for recreation or writing.  I am an avid golfer and at the end of last summer had not even played one full round of golf.  My gazebo waved at me from my front lawn as I passed it on my way to work and simply sighed as I dragged my weary body into the house on my way back from work.

This summer will be different.  Life is far to short to spend all of my time making someone else happy and forgetting about my own happiness.  Changing patterns and routines is difficult, but I have already begun the process to alter my patterns.  With the help and advice of friends I am slowly learning to make myself my first priority.  My alarm encourages me to rise an hour earlier than normal and my laptop is eagerly awaiting the gentle touch of my fingers on its keyboard.  My golf bag smiles knowingly at me every time I pass it on my way to work, somehow sensing that this golf season will be the pendulum swing our relationship needs to get back on track.  And my gazebo seems more inviting than ever.

I have finally come to realize that the change can only begin with me.  If I don’t make time to do the things I love to do, nobody else is going to make that time for me.  I am going to print this post and put it on the wall in my office to remind me that life is not all about work.  Although I enjoy my job, work is a means to an income.  Nothing will ever be as satisfying as writing a paragraph rich in imagery or hitting that perfect drive down the middle of the fairway.

Do you make a point to set aside time for the things you love?

Held Captive – Trifecta challenge

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This is my entry for the Trifecta Challenge, which is this:  For the weekend challenge we’re asking for exactly thirty-three words written in first person narrative. Have fun with it and we’ll meet you back here on 3/3! 

(image courtesy of Google)

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I am afraid.  Not of being alone, or of being sick, but afraid my words will not adequately express my thoughts.  I am afraid my brain will betray me.  I am its captive.

Gnawing on my writing chops

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Writing, for me, is like dining on a fine meal.  I ease my way into the plate by starting with the vegetables and starches, but the true heart of my writing is in the protein.  It isn’t until I sink my teeth into the real meat of the dish that I truly get the taste for the potential of the story.  Lately I have been spending an inordinate amount of time being distracted by the side dishes and leaving no room for the most important part of the meal.

Blogging has become a very special part of my life and I look forward to writing every day and reading posts from others afflicted by the same passion.  I’ve been so wrapped up in the world of WordPress that I have all but abandoned the book that I had begun writing a while ago.  Until recently, I had great intentions of setting aside time to do nothing but continue the journey of the characters I created so long ago.  But that has finally changed.

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(image courtesy of Google)

With encouragement from fellow blogger Sage Doyle, we made a pact.  We vowed to set aside time two mornings a week and make the other accountable for getting up early and devoting time to write.  With coffee in hand, we check in with each other in the wee hours of dawn, bid each other adieu for a couple of hours and we write.  There is no TV, no noise, just caffeine induced creativity.  It’s been a fantastic way for me to shift focus back onto the book because I have that accountability, and it is truly inspiring me to dedicate that much-needed time to the WIP.  My characters are animated once again and brushing the dust from their clothing.  They have attitude and they now know there is a time and a place that they can bring it.

Fleeting ideas are now forming into meaningful sentences and paragraphs and 1,500 words magically transposed themselves onto the screen on Wednesday.  My plate is full and it’s time to gnaw on the chops of my writing as well as enjoying the appetizers.

What is your writing ritual?

I’ll have the Number 4 with a side of humble pie

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I have been somewhat remiss about thanking a couple of bloggers who I greatly admire and have nominated me for some awards.  I was tagged by TwinDaddy at Stuphblog in a game of blog tag, which I completely forgot to follow up on.  (Fail)

Edward Hotspur nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award – thank you for that, it is much appreciated.  And most recently TwinDaddy nominated me for the Shine on Award.  I am honored to be mentioned along with these groups of talented writers.

Although I may be lax in following up on the rules or answering any of the questions involved, the awards really do mean a great deal.  It’s not the bling on the side of my blog, it’s the realization that the people who took the time to nominate me enjoy the things that I choose to write about.  I may be getting sentimental, but being recognized by people who are plagued by the same writing demons means a great deal to me.

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The rules that accompany these awards state that I am to link back to the bloggers who nominated me, which I have done, and to name an allotted number of bloggers to receive the mentioned awards, but I am going to alter my response.  Not only do I implore you to follow the two gentlemen who named me in their lists, but please take the time to check out the blogs I follow.  Whether it be writing, poetry or photography, all of these people have a passion for freeing the creative beast that haunts their dreams and follows them into their waking hours.

May we all find solace in our words or photos, may we find release in the freeing of our ideas and may we find kinship in our blogging community.  (And may I win the lottery so we can have a giant Blog Fest and some good wine!!)

I read, therefore, I review

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I love to read.  I don’t make as much time for it as I would like because I am consumed with writing, but when I do ignore the incongruously fueled ideas that seep into my conscious hours I love to immerse myself in the written expression of others as consumed as I am by words.  I have been fortunate to meet many talented writers and genuinely nice people on this blog site.  And I also consider myself lucky to have read some of their published works.  I have written my amateur reviews on Amazon and wanted to share them with you in hopes that you would read the books written by these truly talented people.

The Gods of Asphalt by H.E. Ellis – I didn’t want to put it down 

Engaging from beginning to end, The Gods of Asphalt takes us on a journey of emotion and growth. Sawyer and River, two brothers with a far from normal childhood, struggle with their past and find a way to define themselves through Ellis’ depiction of teenage angst and growing pains.

Their relationship with each other, their family and their peers is written with such honesty and tension that the pages seem to turn themselves as you are wrapped into the weave of their lives. Within their turmoil we are given true insight into their characters and find something compelling in each of them. Ellis writes with such realism that the book takes on a life of its own. She gives depth to not only the main characters, but to each of the ensemble that support Sawyer and River on their adventure.

The Gods of Asphalt is the first in a series and this foray into the family dynamic puts the spotlight on Sawyer. His journey to finally break free of his past and live a life that is defined only by him is an endearing story and one that will have you strapping into your seat as you ride along on his roller coaster.

I would recommend setting aside several hours if you start this book because you won’t be able to put it down.  Go here for more information on H.E. Ellis and her books.

Scenes From A Hundred Morning Drives by Edward Hotspur – Who knew driving to work could be so funny 

One hundred morning drives and one hundreds reasons to read this book. From funny to thought-provoking, Edward Hotspur takes us on his journey to work and on an adventure through the workings of his mind. It ranges from hilarious to emotionally charged and never disappoints.

Scenes From A Hundred Morning Drives makes you wish you were the co-pilot in the vehicle that drove this book. It is a collection of blog posts that transforms into a day-to-day account of the life of real person that describes real feelings and hilarious observations of the casualties of the human experience.

It is humor, wrapped in honesty, wrapped in reality and then wrapped in bubble wrap for safety. If you like to laugh at life and find some deeper meaning hidden in the text, put on your seat belt and get ready for a hundred morning drives.  Click here to find out more about Mr. Hotspur.

The Eleventh Question by Dianne Gray – Emotional attachment to the characters

Author Dianne Gray truly knows how to get to the real essence of her characters. I was immediately drawn into this book and had trouble putting it down.

Although worlds apart, Dianne weaves a connection between a girl struggling to define her reasons for being and Seer trying desperately to help her find the answers to her questions. The book seamlessly transitions from one perspective to the other and intertwines helplessness with hope.

The Eleventh Question not only engages us in the journey of the characters but makes us reflect on the signs that life presents. It delves into the deeper meaning of intuition and gives us hope that nobody is ever truly alone. It is an uplifting story of survival and success against all odds.  For more information about Dianne Gray and the other books she has written, click here.

my words

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(image courtesy of Google)

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my words embrace me.

my words do not judge me from the outside.

my words speak volumes about who I am underneath.

my words define me in a way my speech never will.

my words convey an emotion that churns in the pit of my being.

my words will help you see who I truly am without the facade that I present.

my words are me.

my words allow me to speak with no sound.

my words allow me to feel with no pain.

my words are who I am and not who I pretend to be.

my words come from my soul and not from my mind.

my words drip with my emotion.

my words are rich with imagery.

my words are me.

my words bring me to a place of comfort.

my words help me find understanding.

my words draw characters in my imagination.

my words make those characters breathe life.

my words implore me to continue my journey.

my words free my creativity.

my words are me.

Losing sight of what is important

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For all intents and purposes, I am a still somewhat of a virgin in the blogging world.  I started this journey in August and have been doing my best to stay true to what really means something to me.  But as it is in many cases, I felt somewhat lost along the way.  I spent a great portion of my time watching the stats on my blog instead of focusing on what was truly important – the honesty and sense of self in the words that I write.

I began this journey because of a deep yearning to free the ideas in my mind, to let loose the writing demon that was trapped in the confines of my cranial matter.  I spent my days off this past weekend utterly disconnected from the outside world.  I turned off my phone, ignored my television, refrained from playing any music and just lived in the silence.  And within that silence, I found my inner voice.  I connected with what it was that brought me to the blog world in the first place – the love of writing.  I finally allowed myself the chance to be what I desperately yearned to be – a writer.  Although there was no looming deadline and no urgency to put ideas on a page, I fervently followed a passion that has recently been rekindled.  I conceded to the power of the words so desperately trying to form themselves into ideas and let them paint the landscapes of my prose.

For me, watching the stats on my blog almost made me forget why I began this journey in the first place.  I don’t write for anybody other than myself.  That may sound like an extremely selfish statement, but it is based in pure truth.  I write because I want to, not because I feel pressured to write.  The fact that other people enjoy what I write makes me utterly ecstatic and urges me to continue along that path of creativity.  Throughout this journey I have met a great many people who not only share the same passion, but who are becoming friends in the process.  They are people who have found a forum to let their inner voices escape and meet in a place where they are not only accepted, but adored and applauded.

Losing sight of what is important to me may have momentarily altered my bigger picture, but spending a day listening to the writer in me brought me back to reality.  It refocused my yearning to write, if for nothing else, than to put words to a page and to connect with others who can translate my voice into their own words.

I had the rare opportunity to regain my vision and recapture what holds a true place in my heart.  My writing is my passion and I will never lose sight of that again.  The otters in the video below remind me that it is not about the people who are watching, it really is about getting back to the things that are truly important to us and forgetting what is happening in the world around us.  It is holding true to the things we value the most.

The first of (hopefully) many milestones.

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When I started this blog, I really had no idea where my voice would take me, if anywhere.  I had no idea that I would connect with people on a level far deeper than sharing a passion for writing.  I have met some extremely funny and wickedly intelligent people who I feel a greater bond with, far beyond that of just fellow writers.

My blog has taken a shape that reflects a lot of who I am.  It is generally written the way I see things – through images, metaphors and feelings. Since August of last year, I have been pretty diligent about posting every day and I am amazed that the ideas for posts keep seeping into my brain.  The ideas may take the form of stories, poetry or photographs, but that is the joy in blogging about profundities ~ every forum can portray something interesting to someone.

Today I am proud to say I’ve reached the 10,000 hit mark.  A big thank you to all of you who stop by on a regular or even an infrequent basis.  I’m glad the things I have to say and the way I say them are engaging enough to make you keep popping in for a visit.  Call ahead next time and I’ll be sure to have the Hazelnut Vanilla coffee freshly brewed in anticipation of your arrival.

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WOO HOO!!

Here’s hoping that inspiration, imagination and humor keep meeting for coffee on a regular basis in the Starbuck’s in my brain……and here’s hoping for another 10,000 hits!!

He just didn’t get it

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Each Romantic Monday I find my brain reflecting on past romances I have had in my life.  I fondly remember what was so beautiful about them, and I sadly recall the things that could have been so much better.

When I am in love, the object of my affection is well aware of my feelings.   I am very demonstrative with subtle touches and knowing looks, I am very generous with my words of love and support and I strive to achieve the element of surprise when it comes to giving little tokens to simply make that other person smile.

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For some reason, on my drive to work this morning I dredged up a past relationship that had been pronounced dead long before its time.  After many attempts to perform CPR on the lifeless romance, it flat-lined and I had to call it.  I walked away knowing I had done all I could to save it and scrubbed my hands of the regret.

But that premature death still bothers me, because he just didn’t get it.   I would leave cards or poems on his dashboard just to make him smile.  What I thought was keeping us close, inevitably drove a wedge between us and the diseased cells began to form.  He was unable to appreciate the gifts I gave because they made him feel guilty for not buying me gifts or leaving cards where I would find them hours later.  What he failed to realize, is the only thing I wanted in return was his love.  I didn’t expect him to mirror my efforts, but I did expect him to understand that those displays and those gifts were me.  And if he couldn’t accept those, he couldn’t accept me.  Time of death – 8:00 pm on a Tuesday long ago.

I still visit the shallow grave of that romance on occasion.  I used to leave flowers on the tombstone, but I have since realized they will never be appreciated.

All is “write” with the world again

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When I was eleven years old the writing Gods opened the heavens, the sky rained idioms and I was saturated with words.  I stood in the downpour with my arms in the air, letting myself become soaked in their beauty and I was drenched in a freshly watered passion. The seeds of creativity took root and steadily began to grow.  The garden of ideas was a portrait of spectral beauty and has continued to blossom in my imagination.

Perhaps I didn’t realize the depth of that passion until I was old enough to understand the true gift of being able to express myself from somewhere deep within my mind.  At that tender age of eleven I began writing silly poems, at least I thought they were silly, but the words just wouldn’t stop.  I began carrying a notebook everywhere and would jot down each idea as it came to me.  During slumber parties with the girls, they would all sit in a circle on the floor giggling about the boys, and I would be in a comfy chair writing poems about them.  Eventually I just stopped going to the parties because their incessant giggling was too distracting.  We were twelve, I don’t think I missed much.

Teenage angst and unrequited love only fueled the creative fires when I reached high school.  What teenage girl doesn’t write reams of hopeless thoughts about boys, loves lost to the mean girls and the ones that got away?  My pubescent phase was a match made in heaven for the endless stream of sorrow filled words that tripped over themselves to be freed.  I still read some of those old scribblings and am transported back to those ugly braces and bad 80’s haircuts, but I still can remember exactly how I felt when I wrote those words.

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I lost that passion for a while.  Perhaps it was losing myself in a bad relationship, or perhaps it was just life in general that drained my will to create, but during that period I felt empty.  The voices that used to tell me their stories had fallen silent and I was alone with nothing more than my reality.  When the fog eventually lifted, I began writing my novel a few years ago, but it didn’t access all of voices that had been quelled.  It felt constrictive in a way because it followed one idea, and so it sat and the characters became idle once again.

This blog has helped to lift those voices into song and I am able to hear those choirs and the beautiful harmony they have been waiting to share.  I even feel compelled to write poetry again which I have not done in a long time.  The book now has new life being breathed into it and characters that were once cryogenically frozen in the tundra of my muted brain are now becoming reanimated.  Perhaps they too feel the freedom to speak their mind because they are no longer in the spotlight.  They have the will to move in and out of my consciousness and speak when they feel compelled to say something.  We are dating again, getting to know each other which is sometimes awkward because there are currently three of them and one of me, but the conversation is never boring.  We will continue our ritual dance of the double entendres and I will wait for the day that they are able to pick up the tab.