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?

A brief update followed by praise for Carol Berg

Past time to update my blog. I have nothing fantastic to say about my own pursuits in the writing arena, though I am starting back on a project with a co-writer that was dropped in process due to another collaborator leaving our team. We now have permission from the person who left to proceed, so it's on again. Wish me luck on that. I figure we are about half way through and he wants to publish in 6 months. I really need this. Fingers crossed!

So, lame as that was on my own writing progress, I do want to mention a new love of mine--author Carol Berg. I can not say enough good things about her and her writing. Her world crafting is expert. Her stories compelling. I hate reading first person stories as a general rule. Very few authors can hold me when it comes to first person, but Carol Berg does it with ease. She makes me forget what tense the writing is in, and I am immersed in the world. I have read her Collegia Magica series and am in the process of finishing The Lighthouse Duet series. I can't wait to read more.

If you love Fantasy, get this woman's books! Seriously. You will thank me. Just as I thank her for putting her words down on paper and sharing them for the reader's enjoyment. If I could dance and shout here to grab your attention, I would do so. Read her stuff! You won't be disappointed.

http://www.sff.net/people/carolberg/

Okay. So I don't have this down.

It isn't like I intended to disappear from my own blog for over 8 months. It's more like I never think I have anything to say and I stare at my blog link and think "well maybe I should just post something, anything", but then I see something more interesting on the Net and I am off in a heartbeat. Within that split second I forget there is even anything I created, let alone a blog languishing for lack of attention.

And sure. I have a few people who read my blog 8 months ago. And if I actually put the time into it perhaps more would read it. But that brings me back to the thought that I really have nothing of interest to say. Which, of course, isn't true. My friends will tell me I have a lot to say. Not only that I have a lot to say, but that they actually enjoy hearing me say it. However, their view of me and my view of me never quite meshes. You know?

My mind plays old tapes sometimes. Do you ever have those go off on you? Tapes from childhood that say your opinion doesn't matter? I have a pretty tight grip on my mind after all these years, but every so often one of those hidden tapes starts to play and I find myself not pushing the stop button. Instead I listen and nod my head in agreement and get caught up in the lies--letting the old tapes stop me from doing something worthwhile and beneficial to my future. Like this blog. Oh, I don't think the blog will have any major effect in my career as a writer, except to teach me to actually carry through on a writing commitment. But that alone is a pretty big deal for a writer.

So, as this year winds down and a new year approaches I am going to work on this thing called blogging. Maybe by this time next year I will have it down. (If I trash that damned tape player, that is. Where did I put my hammer?)

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Opportunities

Hi, folks.

I subscribe to Tor's newsletter. Today I was cleaning out my inbox (yes, this is a task I tend to put off until actually reading the emails becomes hours worth of work. I don't know why, I just do.) and found a lovely story by an author on how she caught the writing bug. From her story I now have two new books to look for. I love Tor. :)

Here is a link to the Tor article:

Tor Blog: Patrick Rothfuss: The Start of My Journey to Becoming a Published Author


The books I will be looking forward to reading once I acquire copies are:

 The Trouble with Fate by Leigh Evans

and

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss


It is good to have goals. :D

Grief

I've put off making another blog post. You could call it procrastination, I suppose. It wouldn't be incorrect. However, there is more to it than just that persistent devil in my ear that says, "you don't need to do that now. Look! Here is something much more interesting to occupy your time. If you wait, you will find a better subject to write about. Just wait." Although those thoughts are there like the sweet pull of caramel against my teeth, the reason I have avoided this post has been overwhelming grief. I haven't wanted to cry anymore. I haven't wanted to open up that pain, knowing what facing it again will reduce me to at the first poke. It hasn't seemed worth it to go there when there are so many other things I can do besides cry at the separation of someone I loved from this mortal world—their separation from me.

Just writing these first words have left my eyes covered in wet, blurring my vision. A friend told me, as I broke down in tears a week ago while mentioning her death, that it will take a year before I regain my stability. A year before I won't cry at the mention of her. A year before the pain is reduced enough I feel in control again. I don't want to wait a year. I don't like crying at the proverbial drop of a hat. It isn't that I wish to dishonor her memory. I just don't want to cry anymore. I feel raw and on edge from the tears.

I cried for three days straight when I received word in February she had passed away from cancer. I regained my composure—until her memorial service. After that service I collapsed in my grief. I was seriously undone. Now that I have regained my composure these bouts of tears are unnerving. I love her and I have lost her and my life is never going to be the same again. I know that. Whether it is a year or fifteen years, the pain of being separated from my dear friend will still be there. The tears will fade, yes. But the pain won't go away. I still feel the loss of loved ones from early in my life. Not this sharp, knife twisting in my gut pain. But, a deep ache and longing for them. With each loss that cauldron of pain stirs, reminds me of the people I have loved and lost. Too many people who I cherished more than my own life. And I hurt.

My friend is no longer suffering, no longer in horrible, physical pain. And for that I am grateful. I am grateful she is now in the next world. Yes, I believe with every fiber of my being that there is a next world. And that those I have lost are there and having a blast experiencing new things and continuing in their path of growth. It tempers my grief a bit to know they are not suffering now. It doesn't, however, remove it. I hate that we must go through this separation in our lives. I hate that there is death, a veil put between those we love so we can't hear them anymore, can't touch them, can't be with them. Perhaps it is a mere illusion. Some have said it is only an illusion, that they are closer than I think. If this is an illusion it is one I can not break. If I could have broken it, I would have done so by now. It hasn't been for lack of trying. Illusion or not, the separation stands. And my pain doesn't go away. Though if I have a choice between enduring pain and my loved ones being free of pain, the choice is easy. I gladly hold this pain for their freedom. But it isn't a choice I want. I want my loved ones. I miss them all so very deeply.

I wrote a poem for my friend, Em, who passed away in February. I want to share it here with whoever may be reading this blog. This is in memory of one of the sweetest, most beautiful women that ever graced this earth. She was so young, taken much too soon. I wish I could have done a better job with this poem. It pales in comparison to her, and is less than what she deserves. I will write more poetry. Perhaps one of those will be better.

Take the next world by storm, Em. Soar high, sweetie.

False Reality

rush hour spent
going to and back

money received
for a hard day's work
to buy the "good life"

moving through time
too fast to connect
with others

it's a false reality
when all that's real


is love

Patty Saturn © 2013