Well I guess my writing block has been me all along. I picked this blog back up on July 4th and I have written more this last week than I have in two years.
Maybe I just needed a schedule and a deadline to be accountable too. So far I have written three posts, four if you count this one, and two story ideas/writing practice. Plus uploading the Quote of the day images. I try to get my posts written in the first week and then schedule them to be posted all during the month. And that may have been one of the problems. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
I guess I needed the break to get my head straight. And by then I was out of practice and it seemed so hard to write a post or story idea or poem or anything. That I kept avoiding it. So yeah, it feels good having creative juices flowing again. Hopefully it will lead somewhere productive.
What are you writing or reading or doing? Drop me a line and let know what you think. Cheers, james
Mr. Ben Franklin famously said “Write something worth reading. Or do something worth writing.”
Since I have been stuck in a rut both mentally and writing, I decided to change my perspective. They say riding on two wheels give you a whole new way of seeing the world around you. The safety of the vehicle is no longer there, and yet you are more connected to the scenery and elements.
At 40 years old and having never been on a motorcycle or scooter before, I bought one. I have drooled over various bikes throughout the years but never had the opportunity to try. I consulted with my grandfathers and my dad. All three felt it was an extremely good way to become a road pancake. And valuing their opinions, I let it go. I figured the notion would pass and yet it was a faint whisper in the back of my mind.
Fast forward 23 years give or take a couple and I fell in love with an electric blue scooter trike. While researching the scooter, it occurred to me why not go for a motorcycle. The only basic difference in a motorcycle and a scooter is the scooter has the motor in the back under the seat. They are also automatic. Most motorcycles are a manual transmission (they have a clutch) but some are starting to have an automatic transmission. The scooter’s price point was out of range and the motor wasn’t big enough to suit me. I want something that can handle traffic speeds.
So I started looking through the classified ads and found my beautiful motorcycle. She is a Yamaha V Star 650, which means she has the giddy up and go to run with traffic. And she is big enough that rides are pretty comfortable. I just have to watch my leg on the exhaust. Ouch. Hot, hot, hot. I feel I have plenty of growing room and lots of adventures to go on before I may decide on something bigger. Probably not though. She handles well and feels great.
I am hoping by learning to ride and getting out and traveling places. It will spark off my creative process and I will dive back into my writing. I am getting older and the feeling of “if not now, when” on both writing and riding.
As I write it is past my bedtime just after midnight. A storm is grumbling outside and has been for the last several hours. One dog is huddled under the blankets in a tight ball of nerves. Poor baby. She doesn’t handle any loud noises well. The other is sprawled across the foot snoring away, completely oblivious to anything.
It strikes me that sometimes I love watching and listening to a thunderstorm. And sometimes it triggers a fearful reaction. So far I never can tell which reaction I will have. The further away it sounds, the more interested in listening to it I am. The closer or if the light strikes are over top of me, the more inclined I am to want to hide.
As a small child, my mom said I was terrified of storms. So they would turn the lights out and light candles. That way I wouldn’t freak out if the power went out. And back in those day, the power would go with the smallest breath of wind. Things are a lot better now. The power companies trim the trees back away from the power lines. If the power goes out now; there has either been a pretty significant weather event or something happened to a transformer or line.
I seem to have lost track of where this post was supposed to be going. Probably because it is past my bedtime and the barometric pressure plays havoc with my head.
I probably intended to write something about the force of nature and how it effects the characters and events in your story. And yet sometimes it is overlooked and nothing happens. In Tolkien’s The Hobbit, when the trolls where arguing about how to cook the dwarves and the dawn catches them turning them to stone. That could have been the end of the story if he hadn’t used the force of nature and given the trolls a weakness to sunlight.
Another thing a writer should think about is how weather and the force of nature effects the characters. Do they fear tight cramped spaces? Thunderstorms? Rushing water? Heights? Rivers? Mountains? What reaction would they have to encountering these hardships? Those are questions to keep in mind as you write.
Cheers and good night or good morning depending on where you are in the world. james
Something to remember when writing believable characters, every hero isn’t all good and every villain isn’t all bad. There are degrees of good and evil in everyone.
One of the writing books I have read included a parable. A young man sitting with his grandfather talking about good vs evil. Grandfather tells the grandson, within every person there are two wolves. A white wolf and a black wolf who are endlessly locked in battle. The grandson asks which wolf wins. Grandfather says it depends on which wolf you feed by your actions. Sometimes the white wolf wins, sometimes the black wolf wins.
Far be it for me to argue with Grandfather, however, I would suggest the existence of a third wolf. A grey wolf. A wolf for the times when life isn’t as clear cut as we would like. A way to explain why a person would chose one action over another.
Seven years ago I started this blog. Today I have readers the world over and almost 300 hundred folks have chosen to come along on this journey. The past seven years have been a wild and wonderful ride. So much has changed since I published my first post.
Thank you to my wonderful readers and friends the world over. The journey is far from over. Here is to another seven years and many more besides. Cheers, james
Yesterday me and my hubby went to run errands. When we left we had three dogs; Roxie, my oldest, Gobby, my hubby’s dog, and Sophie, the dog we are dog sitting for friends. When we came home, we had two dogs. Roxie was dead in front of the couch.
Roxie, my dear sweet baby, crossed the Rainbow Bridge. She would have been 11 years old in May. She has had health problems the last few years. I just didn’t think we would be saying “Goodbye” so soon.
The picture is from when she was a puppy. She would sleep in under the covers until my hubby would get up. Then she would crawl out of bed looking like she was coming off a three day drinking binge. She never was a morning person. He would make breakfast and share a cup of coffee with her.
Gobby is 4, so he has always had Roxie around. He is picking up on our emotions and doesn’t know why she isn’t in the house or outside. Sophie has been with us since last May, but she doesn’t seem to understand or care that Roxie isn’t around.
We burried her this morning. So tell your loved ones how much they mean because tomorrow is never promised.
Cheers on this sad Sunday, james
Took this picture of a rainbow yesterday coming home. The Rainbow Bridge was open.
Warriors don’t always win, sometimes you have to make a strategic retreat. There is no dishonor in retreating. It just means you need to step back and look at the options. Decide if you really have to go over that hill or if you can manuever around it. Because it may serve you better to take several steps back and take another path.
Today will start a new path for me. The war was lost. However, it is time to call a retreat, regroup and look at my options. The closing of a chapter in one’s life does not mean the end of the story. Just the start of a new page and maybe a new story.
So I have been trying to get myself back to writing through various methods: The Artist’s Way Morning Pages, Getting back into keeping a notebook, this blog, looking up writing quotes, etc. I sat down last Fall and outlined a werebeast story. Transcribed most of my notes from paper into my computer, and haven’t touched it since.
Owl Story, one of the main pieces I talked about, I have completely lost everything when we moved. Paper version and the thumb drive it was all stored on. Cause I figured if I kept it on the drive I wouldn’t lose it. Ha, the joke is on me big time.
And MEI, Manuscripts, Epiphanies, Illuminated, during a crisis of heart got trashed, because I gave up on my writing. That is one of my biggest regrets. Unfortunately that one never got transcribed into the computer. So that MEI is gone.
So many projects and so many failures and the common denominator is yours truly. The problem is me. And I don’t know how to fix me.
Can I really call this a writing blog when I’m not writing?
I don’t know. Just like I don’t know what the future holds for my writing. I’m not sure if this is a temporary set back or if this is the beginning of the end of my writing. I haven’t been very good at keeping up with this blog over the last few years. But I am trying to get my spark back. Only time will tell if that is enough. Just know I am not giving up. I am keeping the faith, writing has been a part of my life for too many years to give up. So keep writing my friends, until next we met.
Back about a month or so ago I was trolling through a website that auctions stuff off. Wink, wink. And found a lovely green marbled fountain pen. This pen has expanded my fountain pen experience. First it needed a new ink sac, then the gold plated nib needed to be straightened cause it was seriously wonkyjawed. For those unfamilar with wonkyjawed it means messed up pretty good.
The really neat thing about this pen is how old it is. My best guesstimate is 1940s to the 1950s. If so this pen is in it’s 60 or 70s. My dad is going to be 75 this year. My grandmother was a school teacher and she probably would have used a fountain like or very similar to this one. I love the connection because I really never knew who she was outside of being MeMa. I have some stuff that belonged to her, the seashells she used in class and a piece of her jewelry and all the memories of her.
Once I got the pen back I tried the Pilot Iroshizuku Syo-ro ink in it. The good folks on Goulet Nation mentioned it was possible for the ink to melt the latex sac. So I cleaned it out and got a bottle of Waterman’s Harmonious Green fountain pen ink.
So far both pen and ink have gotten on well with each other. I think the ink is getting low because when I start writing I get a drop of ink. Bleed it off and the pen is good until I cap it and then pick it back up.
The Leverfill mechanism is interesting and will take some practice. It makes it a lot harder to judge how much ink is in the pen when you can’t see it or feel how full the ink sac is.
Quirks and all I am rather pleased with my first vintage fountain pen and the discovery of a new ink. I can’t say it will be my only vintage or my last vintage, but for right now it checks all my boxes.