A Strange Paradox
What follows is the result of a sleepless night spent with a restless brain.I can't promise it will be good.******I am a paradox and a little bit strange.I hope for sunshine but relish the rain.I catch my breath and let it go.I'm loud when I should whisper low.I am awkward I am shy.I long to dress like Grace Kelly.And pray for happy endings.I love sad songs, and ballerina flats.I toast to fallen stars and broken glass.I sometimes feel like a balloon floating on the horizon,Both free and doomed to get tangled up in a turbo prop engine.I believe in Angels. I think I spied one once.I don't think all accidents happen by chance.I'm present in the moment but get lost quite often.Twisting and churning like a falling leaf in the middle of autumn.In my youth I tried to fit in. I'm sure I did, with a few select friends.Sometimes I felt, like someone on the outside looking in.I can't say, I don't feel that way still upon occasion.I like long exploring walks where I can laugh out loudand marvel at all I behold.While shedding a tear for the decay that will eventually unfold.***** Yes. That is definitely not good. It is quite bad.Oh well. It was a good writing exercise to say the least.xo
Friendship Lost (A Haiku)
You were my best friend.I love you like a sister."Good-byes", there were none.
I should be writing instead of speaking
Last night while my husband and I were tidying up after supper I remarked, "If I could sing, I wouldn't speak. I'd just sing." It's something I've said, here on this blog a few times, I'm sure and in passing to friends. My husband was tolerating my choice of tunes as he isn't a big fan of Lana Del Ray. But to my ears her voice is like like liquid amber and the way she can mix the melancholy with the sweet is so lovely which is what sparked my comment on this occasion.I can not sing. I mean, I can. I do. It just doesn't sound very nice.Then my husband said something to me, that to my tone deaf ears, was sort of profound.He said, "Nicky, you may not be able to sing, but you can write. So by your account you should be writing all the time, and you're not doing that."With his sagacious words I had a moment of clarity.He was absolutely 100% right. So profound was my reaction to his observation I became very still and quiet-the proverbial deer in the headlights. All I could do was stand there in the middle of the kitchen with a dishtowel in my hands. After about a minute all I could utter was "wow", which by the way is the exact same thing that occurred the night I met him.I guess I never looked at my writing as a "talent" like singing. It was and is simply something I must do.Therefor by my own account, I'm not using my talent as I would have myself do.Sure I'm constantly "writing" in my head, or making little notes on my iPad or journals, I have my manuscript, and a few other stories I've written, and I can't discount this blog - so I've never - not written- but even my blogging over the last two years hasn't been what I would call prolific.By my account my talent has been neglected. I should be a prolific writer and I'm not.I have only one thing to do, write. Write so that should I one day loose the ability to speak, my voice would continue to be heard.Oh and in case you were wondering, we were listening to Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Ray.
Ink on Fingers
You know that stereotypical image of a writer with ink all over her hands and smudges on her face? Yeah, that was me.
pen: Ink Joy by Papermate. They've never done that to me before, so I'm chalking it up to a random freak occurrence. It figures that I the klutz of all klutzes would get a goofy pen. My only hope is that I didn't have ink all over my face when I had the chance to spark up a random convo over my laptop cover with a fellow blogging chic, who happened to be at Starbucks updating her blog. Yay for meeting bloggers on the random!cardigan: A Target find. Chartreuse, I think is my new favorite "green". The Starbucks I write in is typically freezing. I usually leave there shivering with numb fingers, this time I remembered to bring a sweater...At least I get to dress like it's the Fall in my favorite coffee shop.love coffee and ink all over the place,nicōle
Author Anne Rice Offers Writing Advice
My Little Writing Nook
Last week I shared my news about finishing the first draft of my novel. Since I spend so much time, looking at the same view, I thought I’d share my workspace.
I Actually Did It!!! #iwroteit
This is my first official post -as in one that hasn’t been imported from writespell.com and I am so pleased. I’ve been contemplating switching over to this domain for months-if you’re a regular to my blog you already know my blogging has been pretty sporadic of late. The reason is because I’ve been writing. I’ve been writing so much I can actually say, “I did it! I finished my book!”It is still very rough. Like, super-gritty sandpaper, road-burn rough. But it’s done. It’s taken me four years to finish. The bulk of that time was spent not writing which is the biggest contributing factor to it taking so long, but-and I’ve been thinking about this a great deal; I think the underlying factor was due in part to my not giving myself permission to really do this. Going after one’s dream can be a daunting task, and I think I had to come to it slowly. Add in, an MS (manuscript) written in first person and I think I was setting myself up for failure. Months ago I contemplated changing to third person, but I was half way through. So I plowed on. It proved to be a good practice, but there are still a few holes in the story, that I know would best be told from a different point of view. In retrospect I don’t think I’ll make that mistake again-not getting the POV wrong, but the not following my gut mistake. Either way I’m feeling pretty good right now. I’m excited to begin the re-write and I’ve given myself a strict timeline.To quote Steve Jobs, “real artists ship’. I’ve got UPS on speed dial. Nearly there.Here is a little glimpse of my writing nook. It’s a chalkboard I made, where I write little inspirational quotes or thoughts on.