Weaving a new reality


I am on an epic journey and it is one I have been on before. Writing a book is a daunting task and one I have come to welcome with open arms. This creative expedition is unlike anything else I have experienced. It is an opening of the soul and a willingness to bleed words until the well runs dry.

The moments I doubt my talent far outweigh the times I feel I have captured lightning in a bottle. For each new paragraph I type, thinking these words will be the ones agents will fall over each other to represent, there is a glaring reminder of how many people are writing books and how few agents are looking for new talent. And yet, for some reason, I am compelled to ignore the obvious and dive head-first into the murky waters of becoming an author.

Call it a misguided faith in my ability or a simple obsession, I want to be known as a writer. I want people to read my books and I want to keep writing for many years to come. I have the ideas, I have the passion to write and I have the tenacity to follow my dream. Deep down, I have always known about this part of myself but I have swept it under the rug called reality. Thankfully, the threads of this rug are decisively coming undone and the definition of my reality is being woven in a new way.

(image credit)

I am part dreamer, part writer and part spider, weaving the threads of my dreams into a possible reality and hoping to snag an agent in the silk of my creativity.



What word defines you?


Tenacious is a word that I have come to love.  It sums up so much of my personality and my desire to succeed.   It gives me an excuse to fall back on when I seem like that proverbial bull in a china shop.  But when you know what you want, why should you not use everything in your arsenal to get it?

Words continue to fuel my fire and the roaring blaze is only intensified by my yearning.  I want to write.  I want more than anything to support my lifestyle by putting my thoughts and images into words, and I want people to get lost in the spectral portraits that I create with language. That tenacity is what keeps me going.  My stubborn refusal to accept my current station in life is evident by the passion I seek to create in the many fables I wish to share.


There are many adjectives to choose from when someone asks you to define yourself.   Honest, trustworthy and loyal are among the top words that people will use to exemplify the traits they find most honorable in themselves.  I embody all of those things, but my tenacity is what sets me apart from those benign words.  My ferrous belief that my writing will allow me to have a career by incessantly tapping at this keyboard is the light that beckons me through these dark nights.  It dangles that rabbit that I continue to chase in circles around that unending track.  It gives me hope that my dreams may come to fruition.

Some say words are only words. But words are unique.  Each word that is chosen in a story is selected because of the way it truly reflects the emotion and meaning of the sentence in which it is written.  And just perhaps, those words will lead me through the current reality of my days and into a world I had only once dreamed of – a world in which I was not just a fairy tale character, but the writer of that story.

Tenacious = determined, obstinate, persistent.  Tenacious is the word that defines me.

If you had to choose only one word to describe yourself, what would it be?

On the eve of my 100th birthday


Written for the Daily Post Challenge: You have the chance to write one last post on your blog before you stop blogging forever.

Last blog entry – March 27th,  2069 – the eve of my 100th birthday

I am a smoldering pot of emotion.  This blogging journey, and all of you, my fellow writers, have taught me a great deal about myself.  I was apprehensive beginning what I thought would be a whim, but what truly turned into a collection of moments that, once they were added together, defined me.  From the rare glimpses into my humor to the things that truly touched my heart, I have bared my soul through pontificating on these random polysyllabic profundities.

Many suns have set as I assumed the position at my keyboard, unaware that the day had passed and the night had now enveloped the walls of my widow’s peak to which I have become accustomed to writing behind.  The wind has frolicked through the leaves and tickled them on its way.  Those same leaves have fallen to allow for the snow to blanket the branches, season after season, and I was none the wiser.  Months, even years passed as my mind was lost in thoughts of future tales to tell.

And now, in what may be my eleventh hour, I am overcome with grief as I say goodbye to what has possibly been one of few true friends that genuinely understood me.  This blog has been the one confidant that I was able to tell my deepest secrets.  It let me rant when I needed to release my anger, it laughed at my humor and embraced me when I wrote about things that absolutely broke my heart.  It has nursed me through the passing of loved ones and helped me welcome the next generations into our family.  And now, as I sit alone on my last night on this earth, it is this blog that is my only companion, for it sees me as I truly am.  I want my family to remember me full of life and not a feeble, bed-ridden old woman, barely able to type.

There is a slight chill in the air and I feel the darkness seeping into the corners of my eyes.  I shall hit ‘publish’ one last time so my last words will enter the blogosphere as I enter the light.  My words will be there to greet you one last time as those who have passed before me await my arrival to join them in that place beyond our world.  Thank you for joining me on what was a very long, but extremely fulfilling journey.

If you love something, don’t set it free


For several years, I made novelty birthday cakes as well as wedding cakes.  It was something I was really passionate about and I loved the creative outlet that I was afforded when decorating each individual cake.  My outer world seemed to disappear when I was in the kitchen and life became uncomplicated and beautiful.

With the increased responsibility in my day job and the hectic pace of my life, something had to give.  Unfortunately the cakes were put on the shelf (metaphorically speaking) and I didn’t know how much I missed them until today.  A friend of mine is getting married on Saturday and I agreed to make her small and simple, but elegant wedding cake.  The smell in my house tonight is bringing me back to all of those nights of baking and making me wonder why I made the decision to give up something that I loved so much.

The saying “if you love something, set it free” came to mind and it started the wheels in motion for this post.  I have been pondering why I set this love free.   Love isn’t something that is just given to us.  It requires nurturing and a great deal of effort.  If we just set it free and rest on the hope that it will come back, we give up our sense of responsibility to that passion.

This love didn’t just return to me on a whim.  I chased it into the night and romanced it back into my kitchen.  I coddled it, caressed it and with that effort on my part, together we found the path that we once travelled.  It was comforting, like slipping a foot into a well moulded slipper that only fits your foot.

I didn’t make the mistake of loving something, I made the egregious error of setting it free.  It would never have returned had I not made the effort to get it back and keep it in my life.

Don’t just give up on the things you love.  Don’t set it free and hope it will come back to you.  Unless you are willing to put unequivocal effort into keeping that love nourished, it will find another kitchen in which to grow and flourish.

Spend your time wisely

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Today has been one of the best days of my summer.  I work in a fast paced environment.  I see many faces and deal with many personalities on a daily basis.  But today, I changed the face of my reality.  I am happily ensconced in the confines of my home.   I have yet to turn on the television or any music, but instead am enjoying the sounds of nature.  Crickets are happily chirping and the sound is being transported into my living room by the breeze that is blowing across my lawn.  The sun is out, but I am choosing this day to spend inside with no outside contact, no troublesome news and just doing what I love to do – write.

Being able to blog every day is a blessing.   But today, I was truly bitten by the writing bug again.  The fact that words can still flow so freely from my brain makes me deliriously happy and I am writing my first short story in what has been far too long a hiatus.  I awoke this morning to strings of words fighting to release themselves from their imprisonment in my head.  It was a battle of epic proportions to get the coffee poured and sit down in time to let the words tumble onto the page.  Images that have been burned into the recesses of my brain have now been expelled and the flow of creativity is moving at an alarming pace.

Characters are slowly coming to life of their own accord and leading me through a fable unknown to me before today.  Their strong personalities are guiding me through their story until we all meet at the conclusion of the tale.

I have many passions in my life, but writing is the one that truly wrings emotion from my soul and pours my heart onto a page.  It leaves me vulnerable to its whims and takes hold of me on its terms, not mine.  I am a prisoner of its grip and can only be the messenger of the collection of words that cascade onto the page.

Today, I spent my time wisely.   Today, I tuned out the outside voices and, instead, I heeded the wisdom of the voices in my head and let them take me on a journey.   What a ride it was!