Just Not My Cup of Tea

I try. I really do. But life keeps sticking a foot out and tripping me. Sometimes multiple feet.

So many things have happened since my last blog post this past April. I'm not going to bore you with the sordid details. Those things have kept me from updating my blog, from writing, some from being online at all. And so the world spins and time passes.

When I look at the passage of time it depresses me. I'm just not good at this thing called blogging. Still, I struggle on because someone I trust and admire once told me it is important for a writer to do. Is that true, do you think? Perhaps some writers just aren't cut out for it.

I know for me, I'd rather be working on my world in my fantasy wip than saying inane things in a blog. I want to concentrate on the important things in life. I feel the sands of my life slipping through my fingers, and it scares me. I have books to finish and get published. I have stories to tell. I want these words out there for others to enjoy. I want people to meet the characters that have come alive as I have worked their stories onto the page. I want folks to smile and cry and wish for more time in the worlds I have created. Blogging doesn't accomplish this, at least not in my mind. Tell me, do you think I'm wrong?

Perhaps it is just not my cup of tea.

Lil's Sorrow

 This is a little something I wrote off of this picture prompt. I hope you enjoy it.

[image found at pixabay--here]

Lil's grief overwhelmed her once again. She had cried a million tears over the course of the months since her realm had been invaded—her family assassinated, her people slaughtered, her castle and towns burned to the ground. Nothing was spared the raving madness of the revenants driven into her kingdom by the vindictive king in the neighboring realm. Or the magic that destroyed everything else once the revenants were sent back to the ground. Nothing, except her.

How had he raised such a devastating army of the dead? How had he controlled them to do his bidding? How could anyone be so evil, destroying everything to punish one woman who had refused his advances? Tears soaked her clothing as the questions she had no answers for rolled over and over in her mind, ceaseless in their assault on her sanity.

He had left her enough food to survive months of wandering through the lands she had once ruled, allowing her only the gown and cloak she wore before he closed her within the shell of her once prosperous lands—left to die alone, bereft, a shadow of her former self. She was near the end now and still the tears flowed. She lowered her face into her hand, grasping the shreds of her filthy garment close about her with her other hand to lessen the chill from the wind, and prayed to the gods of her youth for mercy.

A stillness soon fell over the area and peace infused Lil's frail body. She couldn't move from the spot she was in, couldn't change her position by a fraction, but instinctively she knew something good was happening. There was no fear in her as she felt her skin harden, felt the tendrils grow from her feet through the rocks and into the soil underneath. Soon she was firmly rooted to the spot and she felt the water and nutrients flowing into her from the ground below. She was no longer hungry, no longer cold, no longer afraid. She found she could hear the slightest whisper of sound from the trees around her. They were not dead as she had thought they were, only resting until they could once again rise in their glory. She knew the moment the first green sprout timidly peeked out from a branch. Inwardly, she smiled in victory. Her lands would live again. The gods had answered her prayers.

She was no longer alone.

Kicking A Stone Down The Deserted Dirt Road

I have decided I am an expert at disappearing into "life" and concentrating on all the mundane elements without concentrating on the magical elements--like updating my blog and doing anything that furthers my goal of becoming a known, and paid, author. Though to be fair, I have been having more than my share of "life adventures" lately. And, I have been writing, though those efforts are not visible to others yet because the book isn't to the stage of public offering. (It will be soon, if I have any say in the matter.) I just may need to lighten up on myself a bit. I do tend to be overly critical of my own efforts. I'm fair to everyone around me. But me? Not so much. Perhaps that is left over perfectionism. It is a difficult revenant to deal with in one's life.

Here I am again, kicking a stone down the deserted dirt road of my blog, thinking that I need to bring this thing back to life somehow and commit to keeping it going--regardless. Frankly, I should probably just walk away and be done with it. But there is a glimmer of a dream, a patch of something on the road just ahead, that I can not turn away from. So, I'll just keep kicking this stone and see if that mirage up ahead isn't a phantasm after all. Magic can still happen, right?