WHY AREN’T YOU FAMOUS?

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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.

More of the Same

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.

 

Lit World Interviews

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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THE FIRST – AND MOST IMPORTANT – LESSON:

 

Welcome to my new blog. A new approach for a new phase of life.

I do hope you enjoy it and come visit often!
GOLD DRAGON

A Mythical Menagerie.

THE FIRST – AND MOST IMPORTANT – LESSON:

Life, The Universe, And Everything.

 

Dragons are entities with the wisdom of eternity. Many of us may not believe in THEM – but, this simply amuses them. They DO believe in us.

They have to. It’s their fault we’re alive.

They love us for our childlike curiosity – for how we seek magic; and then ignore it when we find it.

Dragons are not gods; even THEY did not foresee everything that would be set in motion when they chose to take corporeal form.  And, even they did not know that they were magic. No… not ‘magical,’ and certainly not really mythical. They are not even the SOURCE of magic. They are MADE of it.

Every atom of a dragon is the spark of LIFE.

We would not exist without their magic.

It took them a very, very long time to realize this, but, when they did, they took it seriously.

*******

You’ve all been wondering about this Higgs boson thingy? Well; here it is, in a nutshell. The Higgs boson particle is magic. Pure and simple. Life is magic and magic is life.

A dragon will not cease to exist (unless it chooses to do so; which is a whole different story. It may take on a new physical form, but the effect of ‘time,’ which was unknown until well after the dragons chose physical forms, is that everything that lives, dies. That is the irony that stirred ‘life’ into existence. The life/magic that permeates the dust as the dragon’s body breaks down is moved all over this universe. Wherever it lands, life grows. Everything that lives has at least one dragon particle in it, and some living things have the power to draw more magic to themselves.

Dragons laugh at the idea that the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is ’42.’

The answer to THAT question is – quite obviously – ‘dragons.’

There! Doesn’t it all make perfect sense now?

You’re very welcome!

 

Wendy Anne Darling ~ ‘A Mythical Menagerie.’

The Muse Wakes Early…

The muse wakes early in this house, and I have learned a lot in the last 9 days. Here I was, simply wanting to get into ‘good habits,’ and write something – anything – every day. Oh – and exercise. Well – I am proud of myself – I have done both.

I thought writing something every day would be tough… it was work, right? Good work habits are hard to forge, so I believed I was in for a daily battle with myself. Yet… no lazy couch potato, or evil naysayer, raised their ugly heads.

So, either I am missing something… or writing isn’t WORK.

Or – shock, horror – I love to work!

Naaaah… that’s not possible. Got to be something else.

This morning, it hit me, right between the eyes. I’ve always known that I was supposed to write; that I was missing my calling when I didn’t. And here’s the proof.

Writing IS work. But writing is a joy to me, so the fault must lie in my understanding of what work is.

I have loathed working for other people all my life. But writing is my passion, and, suddenly I realize that ‘work’ is not a dirty word.

I choose, however, to tell myself that I’m going to CREATE instead.

Why tempt fate?

😀

Just you wait ’til your CEO gets home!

I’ll preface today’s post by admitting that my imagination is a little like an old bed sheet that has been used as a picnic blanket; every now and again it needs to be taken outside and shaken to get rid of all the crumbs, dead bugs, and evidence of food fights. Sometimes it even needs rigorous stain treatment and a long soak in a fresh-scented detergent. It might also help if I folded it up neatly at the end of the day to keep it looking like, what I believe to be, “normal people’s” imaginations.

Yes. Well… I have tried that, but I keep waking up with the bedding strewn everywhere. I guess I should be grateful that the mattress is still on the box spring.

USUALLY.

That being said, here’s what fell out when I shook it this morning – it’s kind of like that Forrest Gump saying – you never know what you’re going to get. 😀

 

JUST YOU WAIT ‘TIL YOUR CEO GETS HOME!

Some of us still remember the halcyon days when your job was your life, your coworkers were like family, and people often worked for one employer all their lives.

What the hell happened?

*****

“I’ll love you for the rest of my life! But, if I don’t, we can always get a divorce,”

“Darling, we had a good thing, while it lasted, but I’ve started seeing other companies.”

“I’m taking the kids. You can have the dog, and the old, beat-up Jeep.”

“Daddy, don’t you love us anymore?”

“Kids… we have to make the best of it. I’m going to marry NewSpouse Corporation and we’ll have a whole new family. It will be fun… just like the Brady Bunch!”

“Mom! Why does Bobby get a whole dollar for taking out the trash, and I only get 70 cents?”

“Dad! WHY do I get to do all the crappy jobs? You never make Greg do this. It’s not fair!”

“Why can’t I have my OWN office, Mom?”

“I’m sorry I can’t meet you for a burger, Trixie; I’ve got homework, chores, computer repairs for the guy next door, walking the neighbors’ dogs, and then I have to babysit before I have the money to splurge on frivolous things like food.”

“We’re sorry kids. Trying to meld two families together is just not working for us. The people who paid for the wedding are demanding a new beach house. Some of you have to go.”

“If you’d just worked harder, and stopped whining about pocket money…”

“Mom? Dad? What do you mean, you’re ‘selling us into slavery?’”

*****

“It’s OK, darlings…eat up! They say crickets are the new bacon!”

“What’s ‘bacon,’ Mom?”

 

 

WHY AREN’T YOU FAMOUS?

 

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.