Several years ago, my good friend Bruce told me that I was finally going to get to meet her mother. She was dropping by to pick up some crystals Bruce had bought for her. In case you’re wondering, I did ask Bruce if, by any chance, she had been named after a family member and she said “Yes. I have an aunt called Bruce.” Anyway – I digress. Bruce had already told me that her mum was a little ‘odd.’ She was, apparently, a psychic and had no ‘filters.’ She said whatever came into her mind and, if you didn’t like it… well, tough noogies. Being duly warned, I put Bruce’s mum out of my mind as we got on with our visit.
AND THEN, THE DOORBELL RANG.
Bruce’s mum walked in; her mouth fell open and her eyes grew large. Without even being introduced, she stared at me and said “Why aren’t you famous?”
Me, all flustered and confused; “I, I, I don’t know!”
Bruce’s mum, with a look of disappointment and a hint of disgust; “Well, you’re supposed to be.”
And that was the end of that. Bruce’s mum grabbed her crystals and left. To say that I was flabbergasted would be an understatement, but that wasn’t the weirdest thing about this confrontation. I felt embarrassed.
Embarrassed by the outburst of a crazy woman? NO. Embarrassed at myself? YES. I felt like I had been exposed. Exposed like Clark Kent would have been if the geeky glasses were ripped off and the cape waved in front of his face. “You are Superman! SUPERMAN, you idiot! What the hell are you doing, pretending to be a mild-mannered reporter?!”
You, with bated breath; “Go on! Go on! What happened next?”
NOTHING. Nothing happened. I stuffed this milestone revelation into the back of my memory, polished my geeky glasses and carried on pretending to be a mild-mannered reporter.
What happens when you keep acting a part you were never meant to play? Slowly, the threads start to unravel and you scramble to hold it all together. But it never works. In the end too many threads fray and you fall through the hole in the net you so carefully crafted.
For me, the net finally broke a year ago; almost to the day. It’s OK… it was never really MY net anyway.
Meanwhile, in an ancient box covered with spiders’ webs, there is a shiny suit and a cape that need to be dusted off.
Bruce’s mum would have been proud.
This year, especially, I begrudge the start of Autumn. After breaking my hip 4 weeks ago, I felt as if I was forced to merely observe the second half of summer through shaded glass, from a hospital bed. So, it is with a certain sense of sadness that I step outside and feel the changes in the air. Soon, the violent winds will come and rip the leaves from the trees. Soon, the first snow will be upon us, though the last one feels too recent.
My dreams and plans will NOT be derailed; I shall not long allow this grieving, but, meanwhile, I cry for summer and write poems about its passing. Judging by e.e.cummings’ quote, he felt the same as I do. 😉
Two poems for you:
I will not apologize for loving summer,
For reveling in the warmth of the sun,
For worshipping the myriad greens of life and growth.
But, here comes Fall, once again,
The cold and blustering thief of my happiness.
It strips away the heat, and the flowers,
And the leaves with such a force
That I cannot call it fall or autumn…
Thief of Summer –
I name you ‘Snatch.’
… wendy anne darling 2016
Flowers and I stood,
Fearless in the face of Death…
Prior to the Fall.
…wendy anne darling, 2016
I wonder how many dusty and forgotten worlds there are out there? Thanks for this thought provoking post, Jo Robinson! It gave me a lot to think about, and more, besides!
Back in my teens, I spent some time reading Harlequin romances. After about the fifth one, I was justifiably bored by the repetition. Kind of ruined romances for me and I have never read them since. 😂
I DO love the idea, though, of continuing to build and expand a world you have created! It’s built, it’s right there, and ready for some evolution. Doesn’t even need to be the same time period. Maybe you could jump a couple of hundred years and have a story in which new characters are directly or indirectly influenced by the historical actions of your original characters.
I smell smoke! Ooh! I think my brain’s on fire! LOL.
There is no harm in sticking with a good thing. Once you’ve written and published your book, that doesn’t mean that you have to forget the people who live in it forever, and move on to something totally brand new and original. You can write about them again. Maybe just as background for totally new people, just living in the same town maybe. You could write a whole series of books that stand totally alone, with totally different characters but with similar themes. Just not too similar though. Think Raiders of the Lost Ark, Dan Brown, or Lara Croft series kind of similar – similar, but still very different.
One memorable occasion I read and loved a book by a certain author, so I promptly bought another two by him. They weren’t listed as a series, and even though I’m very partial to the familiarity of an author’s voice coming…
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I’m not dead yet…
Hello to all my great followers, and my apologies for my long absence.
So… off I went to have a fabulous time camping by myself in Colorado Springs from August 3rd through 8th, surrounded by hundreds of previously unmet, kindred spirits at the second annual Tiny House Jamboree, where a great time was had by around 60,000 wonderful people! For those of you reading this who might remember me from that weekend, I am the loony, magenta-haired English lady who volunteered at the merchandise stall on Saturday and Sunday!
The experience honestly made my heart soar. If I had any doubts about the path I have decided to follow in planning for, paying for, and building my own tiny house on wheels within the next year, it was only solidified by the wonderful new friends I made and the amazing speakers and vendors at this event.
But life is very good at throwing you curveballs, just when you believe you’re on track, doesn’t it?
Very early on the Monday morning following the end of the Jamboree, I awoke, relaxed and refreshed in my one-person tent to a clear, bright blue, Colorado Springs morning. I decided to grab the opportunity to pack up and hit the road so that I could be home before rush hour hit.
Well… that didn’t go as planned, did it?
The very last tent stake appeared determined to stay buried, exactly where it was. It obviously had no intention of heading for home. I pulled and pulled and pulled and – well – you can probably imagine what happened next.
You got it! I ended up in a heap on the ground with one thing I’d never had in my life before; a broken hip. I think this was the only thing that’s ever happened to me that I can honestly say hurt more than childbirth.
Yes… REALLY. I think I screamed my head off that day more than ever before in my life.
Many campers had already packed up and left for home the night before, but, luckily, I had chosen to camp fairly close to the Portapotties. I was only lying in the damp grass, drifting between throwing up and unconsciousness, for what seemed like 5 minutes before somebody appeared.
I’m one of those people that detests asking for help, but, you know what? Somehow I had no problem asking for help – although I guess I did it in a very British, stiff-upper-lip way; “Good morning! Would you mind very much coming over to help me when you’re done with the bathroom?” A slightly perplexed “Sure!” was the answer. Poor lady probably thought I was drunk or sunbathing. 😀 She did, however, return a few minutes later and realized the gravity of the situation (Gravity! LOL! Gravity strikes again!).
Before long there was a small crowd surrounding me and one lovely lady called 911 while another packed up the rest of my stuff. How I wish I could give them a shout out and remember their names, but I was way beyond trying to remember anything. These two lovely perfect strangers not only stayed with me until the ambulance came; one of them drove my car to the hospital and both stayed around until about the middle of the day to make sure I was being taken care of! There really are such things as modern day Samaritans. Dear Colleen Chesebro and her husband; who live not far away, came in to see me as well, which cheered me up a lot. I don’t remember much, but I CAN remember Ron saying “It will all be alright.” 😀 (Edit: Lainey has just jogged my ‘memory’ that, actually, Donna LaWall was there on the day I actually broke my hip and Colleen and Ron came the day after. What can I say? Those painkillers are bad news! Thanks, Donna ♥)
Later that day, the surgeon operated on my hip, running a nice, big pin and two nails to put me back together. Did you know they STAPLE you closed these days? Certainly took ME by surprise!
Anyway; today’s installment ends with me still being alive. Stay tuned for part two – part two is when the magic enters the story!
It’s me, Colleen from silverthreading.com.
Just a quick update on Wendy. She is now closer to home in a hospital in Boulder, CO since this weekend. She is undergoing rehabilitation to learn to walk again after her hip surgery.
The great news is that she is excellent spirits and excited to get busy designing book covers for all your e-book and print book needs.
After the cover reveal of The Heart Stone Chronicles – The Swamp Fairy, Wendy had one lucky author who engaged her book cover services.
Wendy has four more slots available at the 50% price off as was specified in her original advertisement here.
This is an amazing bargain! As you can see from the book cover above, Wendy is an extraordinary graphic artist. For example, I gave her the description of the swamp fairy in my book and she drew the exquisite creature above. I provided her with some photos I had taken from the very swamp in Florida where my inspiration was born. You can see that image on the book cover also.
ARE YOU LOOKING FOR AN AFFORDABLE BOOK COVER FOR YOUR BOOK? LOOK NO FURTHER!
Thank you for the opportunity to brag about my book cover and Wendy’s work. I appreciate if you will take the time to see what she can do for you!
Hugs, Silver Threading
Hi, everybody! It’s me… Colleen from silverthreading.com. I just wanted to pop in and let everyone know that Wendy is going to be missing in action from her blog for a bit. I will be filling in as much as I can while she is recuperating.
She spent the weekend with her daughter’s family at the Tiny House Jamboree that was held in Colorado Springs. She had a grand time camping and enjoying herself.
When it came time to pack up the tent, there was Wendy, working away pulling out a tent-peg. Suddenly, she fell and found that her leg would not move. She had broken her hip!
Yup! She did it this time. She has had surgery and is still in the hospital here in the Springs. My husband, Ron and I did stop in today to check on her. She said that had to place a pin in her pelvis. I brought her chocolates, so hopefully that will help to get her on the mend and on the road to recovery! ❤
Please make sure to wish her well. Here is the link to her Facebook. Stop in and say hello. I know she is going to need many prayers to heal and become mobile again.
Wendy after surgery on 8/9/16
The best part of our amazing writing community is the love we share for our fellow bloggers. Please stop by and let Wendy know that she is dearly missed.
In fact, it is going to become imperative that her new business, Bookxeedo Book Covers, gets off the ground. Remember, if you are looking for affordable book covers, Wendy will surely help you out.
Take care and please stop by and say hello to Wendy. I will see you soon!
I try my best to keep up with modern-day ‘speak,’ but sometimes it just evades me! 😀
AN OLD FART’S TAKE ON MODERN LANGUAGE
by Wendy Anne Darling:
Happy Friday! I hope you’re King or Queen of your weekend. 🙂 In honor of Friday, here’s a little bit of fun that I just completed. Enjoy!
King struts his male stuff all around the back yard…
“This rock is mine! I pee on you!” Dog rules.
“Think’st thou this barbeque belongs to YOU?” he snorts
“I claim this sausage for the crown, you fools.”
“With a slight tilt of leg. I anoint you a Knight
You may rise!” Oh, it’s good to be King!
I carpet the floor with my long, golden fleece –
Never say I don’t give you a thing!
Just one tiny cloud mars his iron-pawed reign –
The servants oft’ fail to obey,
For they take out the chariot whenever they please.
“Just to buy the best kibble!” they say.
He harbours suspicions but turns a blind eye
“Sometimes they must frolic,” he laughs.
So he cuts them some slack and allows them their fun
But he really must curtail those baths!
All is well in his realm ‘til the portentous day
When the servants return with a crate
Containing an odour of danger so strong
That our King feels his confidence quake.
“What manner of evil is this?” barks the King
But nobody’s listening to him
The people bow down and they worship this THING
That hisses like vengeance unhinged.
If a lightning storm could be made out of fur
And studded with razors that shred,
Deep malice had suddenly sprung into life.
The King promptly whimpered and fled.
“I’m betrayed!” squeaks the King, with his mind in a whirl
Overcome with dark visions of dread.
Now he sleeps with the Enemy, curled in a ball…
It’s that, or he doesn’t get fed.
Wendy Anne Darling, July, 2016.
Awaiting that cry.
As the words grow inside me
Miracle of birth
Wendy Anne Darling, 2016.