I (finally) had a weekend off and I managed to get loads of editing done. In doing so, even after reading it for what must be the twentieth time, I’ve discovered I like my story! so at least if no one else ever reads it, I can enjoy it over and over again. But having said that, I’m going to do my damnedest to get it published–fates willing–this year.
I began seriously thinking about the sequel to The Great Dagmaru and I got as far as writing a page of it. I’m extremely tempted to switch to the first person, past tense for the second book. The first is written in third person omniscient. I’m afraid of limiting myself too much by changing. If I remember correctly, it’s what Anne Rice did with “The Vampire Lestat” after having written “Interview With A Vampire,” so the concept isn’t without precedent.
Apart from that I didn’t do much worth writing about over the weekend. I did take this picture though:
Somehow the white in this photo is much more palatable than the white of snow, don’t you think?
It’s been thirty-four years since I had a discussion in a class in high school – I don’t even remember what the class was, only that the teacher could easily be led astray by an interesting conversation and we wouldn’t have to do any work if we could catch her attention with something.
The discussion was based on two things. First – everyone, at some point in their lives, has six months left to live. If you could know without a shadow of a doubt that you had that much time left, would you want to?
The second of the two subjects that day has more to do with today’s prompt. And I swear, I wasn’t thinking of this when I came up with the prompt. (not sure if I should put that in there or not, but I can’t take it out now, right?)
Anyway, the second of the two subjects we talked about that day was, if you had a choice between losing your sight or your hearing, but you had to choose one, which would you pick?
Most people if I remember correctly, said their hearing. After all, being able to see makes getting around a lot easier. But I was torn. I love music. I love to be able to hear the birds sing. I can’t imagine not being able to hear the beauty of a great guitar riff, or the voice of a singer I adore. I just… can’t.
With so many years of hindsight, and having a Deaf child, I am really now torn. I see him enjoying life without sound – he can still feel the beat of music, and he’s able to communicate for the most part with just about anyone through gestures and body language. Still, he’s never been able to hear music, and so he doesn’t understand what he’s missing.
I don’t know how I would cope without my sight either. Gone would be my camera, and all but the fragrance of flowers. And I walk into things as it is…
It’s a question that will probably stay with me for another thirty-four years, if not more. I hope I never have to choose.
My best friend John was talking to me today about a man he works with named Mike. Last night Mike didn’t show up for work; apparently he just found out he has cancer.
Mike is 32 years old, just got married, his wife just had a baby and they just bought a house. The cancer spread from his testicles and is now in his stomach. Nine weeks of chemo await him.
Yesterday, I took a picture of a tree.
I feel lucky to have what I believe is a bunch of open-minded people following my blog. So I ask you, please try to see the connection.
In life, there is so much beauty. While I’m sure Mike is worried as hell for himself and his new family, and it might be impossible at the moment for him to see what he has gained in light of what he has potentially lost, this is what I would advise him, if I knew him: focus on the beauty in every single day.
It’s so much easier for we who are not suffering to see the positive in things. The very last thing I mean to do is be glib. But each and every one of us is dying. Every thing that lives, will die. This is what connects us.
Please, send some positive thoughts out for Mike, and for all who suffer. And don’t forget to look for beauty, everywhere you go.
My mother, talking to me on her cellphone: I’ll make sure I keep my phone with me tomorrow, in case you call – I just have to find where I put the bloody thing now.
Diversity is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Well, not always.
If you’re at all sociable: whether you go out of the house, or stay in and spend your days on the internet, you’re bound to meet someone who gets on your nerves. I remember when my ex and I started dating. Everything was flowers and wine and laughter… and then I found out he was a morning person. I, on the other hand, am not one for more than a grunt if you’re lucky before my first coffee, so the singing coming from the direction of the shower was enough to set my teeth on edge.
While that wasn’t actually painful, I do now at times feel physical discomfort when I come across someone whose nature is completely different to mine. Take, for instance, people who live in a constant state of drama. I have enough real life problems to even consider worrying about who has pissed off whom and how they’re going to badmouth them until everyone else hates them. And it happens everywhere! Social media, high schools, offices and even old-age homes.
What I don’t understand is, why do people do this to themselves? Why can’t people just live and let live? So what if so-and-so is pissing you off? Ignore them. Don’t let them pull you into their world of misery. I certainly didn’t let my ex get the best of me with his early morning glee, and since he was still serenading the shower head when we broke up, I sure didn’t do anything to stifle him. Then again, maybe by that time he was doing it just to get on my nerves.
I know I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it again: life is too short. I think if we can all accept that not everyone is the same as us, that we all have our quirks, our opinions, and our preferences in life, we could all be so much happier.
Stop trying to change people. Embrace their differences. Just not necessarily in the shower.
You know that feeling you get when you’re reading a book that’s so good–you’re enjoying the world and love the characters so much–that you don’t want it to end? You approach the last few chapters and you’re divided – do you hurry up and read it because it’s so exciting? Or do you savour it slowly like a fine glass of Chardonnay? It’s a dilemma I think we all deal with at least once or, if we’re lucky, many times.
I’m currently reading a book like that. The book is catskinner’s book by Misha Burnett. If you’re not already following his blog and/or haven’t started reading his novels, you should. You can find them here: http://www.amazon.com/Misha-Burnett/e/B008MQ8W4K I’ll be writing a review as soon as I’m finished.
But this is only half the reason for this post.
When I finished writing my novel, The Great Dagmaru, I was miserable. Like that feeling when I’ve finished reading a novel I enjoyed, times ten. It was like my children had left home and didn’t need me anymore. I walked around with a dark cloud over my head for a week. It was so dark, in fact, I think I heard thunder. I wonder if this is part of the reason it’s taking me so long to edit it… I don’t want it to end.
So in my own insane way of undertaking more than I can really handle, I’m seriously entertaining the notion of beginning the sequel. I was going to write one anyway; I wasn’t going to start it until NaNoWriMo in November. In some convoluted way, maybe adding more to my workload will increase my productivity.
I need a way to get past this psychological block, however I do it.
Do you have a book you never wanted to put down? Recommend it in the comments. And don’t forget to check out Misha’s blog and his novels!
You never know when you’re going to meet someone who will change your life forever. Be it by accident or by design, there are those whose actions will alter the course of our lives, or do it simply by existing.
For myself, I think the people who have changed my life the most drastically are my kids. I could have had no idea how much until I actually gave birth to them.
There are people who have passed through my life who have caused me to trust less, and those who have cemented my faith in humanity. I suppose one sort balances the other sort out.
My ex, with whom I had my children…
We met when we worked together many years before we actually began having a romantic relationship. We lost track of each other for six years – it didn’t really matter. We were barely friends at the start. Then one day I pulled into a gas station just to buy gas and there he was again, in a city hundreds of miles from where we first met. Some might say it was meant to be. I’m sure my kids would.
I never even liked children before I had my own. Yet now I would die for one, even if it was not mine. That’s what being a mother is about, I guess.
I wonder, sometimes, at the perfection of nature. How effortlessly it creates and destroys – how without discrimination it can ruin our lives. Yet who of us can say that we belong here?
As I walk, I see what nature has made. A flower lives and dies, just like that. We build things and they disintegrate in the elements before our eyes. We are persistent, we humans. Aren’t we? Coming up with better ways to protect our properties, but in the end it’s always nature that takes it from us. Is it any wonder that our own nature is to destroy things?
There is no material we can create that will not be foiled by nature… for if anything lasts beyond our existence on earth, nature will eventually destroy it, even if it takes the complete annihilation of the planet to do so.
What can we create that nature will not destroy? Where does our purity lie?
The answer must be in the things that we, like nature, create without effort. For some of us it’s music, or thoughts or words – ideas. If our nature is to create that which is beautiful, it is also ephemeral, as a flower.
We are born and we die. Like animals we have the innate will to survive; to perpetuate our species. We belong here every bit as much and as little as a flower. We are no better, and no worse. For even a weed can destroy concrete.
I can’t help but believe there is a great lesson to be learned from nature. The more effortlessly we live–the more we do what our true nature compels us to do–the more content we can be.
