A Fire In My Brain

I spent the better part of my day at my local Italian hospital waiting for and receiving an iron infusion (I'm very anemic). My husband was with me and we were sitting in the waiting room surrounded by the iconography of my religion when he said something that lit a spark in me that is burning like a bonfire in my brain.I don't know if it was divine intervention or the fact, that for the first time in a long time I, at present have adequate levels of iron in my system. (This was my third treatment).I like to think it was a little bit of both.For the first time in a long time I feel like I can actually think with some clarity with regards to telling a story, even if my brain is ablaze.I have a lot of work to do and I'm thrilled.I'm about to go all Big Bad Wolf, and huff and puff all over this story, until it's a wild fire of words. I'll worry about water hoses some other time...maybe never.

What's On My Desk? 1.0

One's desk, much like their purse is a very personal thing (or at least it should be.) I think it says a lot about the person who spends their time at it.I love to see where other writers write. Kami Garcia often shares what's on her desk and purse on her blog. Maggie Stiefvater has also shared her office space or the chaos that can become her desk when she gets to drawing.I've shared my work-spaces in the past too, but it's been some time since I've done so and I thought I'd share with you a few things that are sitting on my desk today.Research books on Spain gotten from my base Library. I really must visit some of the places I'm writing about. I'll call them research trips!At any given time there is a notebook or three on my desk (or in my purse, or beside my bed).I found an old hair ribbon I used to wear back in College during sorority events (Go Phi Mu!).I have a box of colored pens I purchased at a local market. I got them for my son who likes to journal and draw, but he left them here last week and so I've been using them too. I like colored pens, because sometimes black or blue ink, just isn't enough!I found some neat pencils while visiting Belluno, Italy this weekend. Belluno was so charming, much like these pencils I picked up in a little boutique, they have Swarovski crystals on their tops. Charming, sparkling writing utensils. Oh what joy!If you're wondering why I have toys on my desk, that's totally my youngest son's fault. He likes to bring me little treasures.I found some Swarovski crystal pencils on amazon I think these would be lovely presents, don't you?Save

My Writing Playlist

I've never actually posted one with regards to what I was writing, but I got a little inspired yesterday, with all my sharing and so I thought I'd share some more...These songs I find either inspiring in some way or are relevant to my manuscript's theme...I'm sure I'll add more songs to this list as my mood, or the story progresses...

I've been feeling creative and inspired...

Here's what my Muse has found pleasing...I made this little graphic so I could print out and tape into my journal - but quickly discovered that my printer is out of ink. Grrr, I purchased those before I left Miami, but I guess not using them for nearly six months can make them feel all ignored and decide their not in a printerly mood.I so do love Shakespeare's Sonnet 43... The way it speaks of yearning is so poignant. I'm totally channeling this feeling for one of my characters.The photo I used I found via Tumblr.  Apparently it's a statue located in Rome. So it's on my list of things to see when we visit. I just have to figure out where.Music definitely helps rev up my creativity. I recently discovered The National, I've had their album High Violet on near constant replay. They're heading straight toward being one of my favorite bands.

Florence + the Machine ...  Two songs specifically I've found to be quite thematic, for my writing these days, Cosmic Love and Blinding off of the Lungs album.Le Sigh. Love those. Here are a few links to the two albums I referenced. These links are affiliate codes...

Two Little Boys

All this weekend I was trying (and failing) to write. It seemed any time I tried to sit down and write I was interrupted by a "Mom", or some other equivalent.

Exasperated, on Sunday I began to update my Facebook status with some version of a "rant", instead I got rhyme-y. I thought I'd share because it's sooo silly and dorky.

Two little boys.The faces of angels.So sweet to look upon.So handsome to be hold.Lips curled up in a grin, no hint of the mischievous, which lies within.At times their mother is beside herself, slapping her head.Feeling very much like, Old Mother Hubbard, I should put them up for auction, she's thought on occasion,but instead says, "I'll put you to bed!"But then puppy dog eyes will look up in supplication, "Mom, we're sorry." They say and all is forgotten.

love & motherhood,

photo: taken at Alice C. Wainright Park, Miami -with a Nikon D3100 using a  lens. It was edited on a Mac using PhotoEffects Studio Pro

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Breathing of Your Heart

quote: William Wordsworth - artwork: Beverly Ealdama

Goals Unfulfilled -RemembeRED –

I knew what I wanted…I knew when I was six..I want to write. Really write. I want to be able to call myself a bona fide writer, and not feel like a complete fraud because it’s not “official”. Sure, I’ve been paid to write here and there, but it’s nothing that will make up a career. That’s what I want.

I’ve set goals, I’ve read books, I’ve got a “dream board” I stare at every day with positive affirmations and things that will help me reach those goals…reach that place in my life where that empty place in my heart sits to fill it up.

I think there must be a leak some place because over and over goals I’ve made have dripped away, evaporating into lost time.  My art teacher in elementary school, Mrs. Knowles used to say, “Time wasted can not be regained.” I can’t remember any piece of art I did back then, but she left an impression on my child-self I’m truly grateful for.

I wonder what the child me would think about the grown up person I’ve become. I think she’d be proud, but she’d wonder why I feel so scared.

“How can you be scared of doing something that makes you happy?” She’d ask, her freckled nose wrinkling up at me.

I’d shrug my shoulders at her and give her one of my well-worn excuses. Excuses are hollow empty things, yet there they are filling up all that lost time.

She’d smile her goofy-gapped tooth grin and say, “Silly, don’t you know what to do when you feel scared?”

I’d shake my head at her.

She’d roll her eyes because the answer was so simple.  “You just close your eyes and think-up good things.” Her eyes would go all soft and dreamy then. “Things like princesses, that ride on unicorns and get to eat cake and ice cream for breakfast. That’s what I do when I’m scared. I make up imaginary worlds where cool things happen.”

Duh.

When did I become so lame?

It happened when I thought about how super-awesome-amazing it would be to be that kid who’d make up stories, who turned into a grown-up who wrote stories people would read, where they’d be transported to a super-awesome-really-cool place where they’d forget themselves…and their fears, or the crappy grade they’d got on their Algebra test because of words on a page that were written by me.

 .....This post was inspired by this week's writing prompt from  Write On Edge -RemembeRED – Unfulfilled