Iona by John Duncan

 

Iona by John Duncan. Symbolism and one of the pieces of art that always inspires me. Especially Duncan's use of color and expression. In a certain story I've read, Iona is the protagonist in a myth about a young girl who fell in love with a god. When I heard her story I thought I'd like to fall in love with a god. Of course the more I read and understood, this was a perilous path to choose. What would it be like to be human in presence of the divine. Any divine. Despite Iona's tragic circumstances, this was a topic that I love. It haunts me. 

Backstory: Around the age of 10, I started writing little notes about another girl who has had various names over the years. A young girl, ordinary in all ways but very clever who falls in love with a god, who finds her annoying most of the time. This was my fantasy. My dream.  Part of my paracosm. While my friends wanted to be Cinderella or Snow White or some heroine of a TV show, I wanted to struggle with a god and make a life. Some of this might have been my early, much too early, understanding and knowledge of death and how it shadowed my early life.

I was only seven years old when I realized that all  gods, whatever, were probably the fantasized needs of human beings. I was crushed at the time to know this. By age eight I had relaxed into this philosophy, but it wasn't like I could have a conversation about it with my friends or my parents, although I tried to explain it to my mother several times. I did explain it to my third grade teacher, which led to some unintentional consequences for me and yes, a new understanding of myself. I was never the same. This teacher influenced me greatly and was a wonderful mentor in early life. I always thought of her when I thought of gods and mortals. I still think of her.

Love is forbidden between gods and mortals. This theme is told over and over in literature. Why? That is one of the things I wanted to know, too.

Fall Notebooks

 

Writing is lots of hard work. Reading and Studying is too. I bought these and 3 dozen Traveler's notebooks for organization. Everyone knows I love flowers.

Wildflower Explosion.

 

 Images © Lucia Leyfield 

This is something I want to do. Nature journaling and doing watercolors of my flowers from my garden. I started one a few years back but got distracted by life. This time I have planned better. I have already purchased lots of watercolors, etc. But I just love how Lucia Leyfield designed her pages. She has a website, and is on IG if anyone is interested. I first saw this image on Twitter. No one knew who the artist was and then they made a search. I had too, but I did not see all of Leyfield's page due to time and circumstances, so I missed this entry on her workshop. One can buy it to learn and paint along.

Roman History Notes

 Written by Titus Ursus, Primus pilus of Legiō IX Hispana, in the third year of Hadrian's reign (*120 AD). 

"This will probably be the last papyrus and my last note. Our legion was ambushed in the wild realm called Caledonian Forest and was almost completely annihilated. Half of my first cohort is all that was left of the IX legiō. We were pushed into the marsh and we will probably die here, fighting bravely to the end in the name of Rome and the Emperor. We were attacked by a demonic pack of the barbaric Picts. They looked more like wild beasts than humans. Some of them were dressed in animal furs, painted with strange runic signs... others seemed to be two-legged wild beasts. They tore us apart as if we were made of paper! I saw our legatus and my brothers in arms being eaten alive, I will never forget their screams. The barbarians attacked us unnoticed, quickly and with wild fury, then disappeared in the fog. Mainly at night. Our shields, swords and armor were no use here. The enemy we face seems to be the ancient wrath of some dark gods we have awakened. We should never invade these lands. I hear demonic howls, they're coming! They're coming!" ⠀

Beautiful writing is...

“Beautiful writing is more than pretty prose. It creates resonance in readers’ minds with parallels, reversals, and symbols. It conjures a story world that is unique, highly detailed, and brought alive by the characters that dwell there. It offers moments of breath-catching surprise, heart-gripping insight, revelation, and self-understanding. It engages the reader’s mind with an urgent point, which we might call theme.”
           ― Donald Maass

I am alive . Good night.

 

Good night. 

I am still alive.

So grateful

That I can even smile.

I am here. 

What do I love?

“The mind I love must have wild places.”
              ― Katherine Mansfield

YUNGBLUD - I Was Made For Lovin’ You (from The Fall Guy)

Added to the writing soundtrack. I love this cover of Kisses' song. So good.

Cleaning up and making a routine

One can't really understand the stress I have been under due to illness and also predicament. For example, I had a medication adjustment by my personal physician which finally put me in the ER two days before my June 1 birthday. Then I was gardening on June 11th and some insect bit me and I got severe hives, angiodema, and a rash, which after two weeks put me in an Urgent Care clinic so I could get steroids. I stopped up my bathtub drain with repeated oatmeal baths. Laughing. Before that was over, a young girl I knew (22), (TRAGIC) who was indigent, committed suicide, and weeks later after being on life support, donating her organs, and being put in the county morgue, her family didn't have the money to bury her so I paid to have her cremated to keep her out of a pauper's grave. That was May and June and part of July. What a nightmare.

On top of that my writing coach and I decided I needed to change the setting of my story and create a more complex fantasy feel while keeping the found family dynamics. This means major rewriting. REWRITING. After yesterday, with all the political nightmares, I decided I needed a break from everything. 

So I am reading some genre fantasies, so I can immerse myself in a wonderful and complex worlds and maybe learn something from the experience while being entertained. I am going to break from social media while I read with exception to posting comments on the book. I just can't take it anymore. I need to clean up all my writing and work rooms, three of them and then develop a routine. One can't write what I need to without a routine.

And my son made me some sausage pinwheels because he knows I am unhappy. Food helps.  

This entire year has been strange and full of challenges.

"It is human life. We are blown upon the world; we float buoyantly upon the summer air a little while, complacently showing off our grace of form and our dainty iridescent colors; then we vanish with a little puff..." — Mark Twain (Elizabeth Donaldson 2002-2024)

Elizabeth, in my opinion, died on June 23, but was put on life support in order to be a donor.

WIP Day 2-4 Revision Notes

 

   I've had some busy days working out the reverse outline and making notes and deciding what is to be done on the WIP. I will never do another NaNo project in my life. Laughing. It's messy and ridiculous and while it gave me a great idea, well, we know what they say about ideas. They are a dime a dozen. It's not a book. It doesn't look like a book because I have torn it to pieces. Think of it as a cake that is just a wish and all the ingredients are sitting on the kitchen counter but the bowl is empty and the oven is still cold. I had to stop, take a deep breath and make a list of how to approach it all because there is so much good material and so much bad material and yes, as I wrote earlier in the year, before illness overtook me, I am really rewriting the book. 

That's okay. I have done that many times. It's been long established that writing is rewriting. That's not an issue for me at all right now. The issue is what to put in the bowl. What kind of cake am I making. With a little help from a friend, I managed to organize how to approach this kitchen counter covered with ingredients and decide what to throw away and what to keep and if I wanted to reimagine the story in a few other ways. I did.

A reverse outline is a masterful way to look at your story when you know it's too long, has too many characters, and maybe even too much plot. I was taught this method, with a few special details by my first literary agent. She's long gone now, and if she were alive, I might have called her and cried a little. When Alice went. through the Looking Glass, the world was reversed. Nothing made any sense and she encountered lots of nonsense, including that wonderful poem, Jabberwocky. But Carroll was very logical and mathematical and in this sequel to Alice in Wonderland, he approached some clever ideas. It's my favorite of the two books, the one I reread over and over.

So I am baking a cake. Only I have to get everything proper together or I will end up with nonsense, once again.

How I came to realize what to do with the book, you know, what kind of cake it is, well I made lists of books I loved, books I have reread over and over, and all the things I loved about those books. Then I made lists of my gifts and weaknesses as a writer and followed that with lists of the things I felt were really wrong with the book and had been since Day One of NaNo. I got very cold and logical. I put away my feelings at times, because this time next year I want to be completely finished with this project. Since this is my revision draft, I am guessing it will take me six months to put all the right ingredients together and another six months to polish and edit it. If I am lucky....I've been so ill this year, I just hate to make predictions on what life will bring me.

But this is the plan.

One thing big changed. This is now a Historical Fantasy. I have completely changed the setting. This was the boldest thing I have ever done when revising a draft. I feel good about this for many reasons. 

Second big change. I am writing a full outline and doing character sheets, something I always did when working previously but not done on this NaNo draft.

And the one before....

And the one before....

And that is why I do not have a finished book. NEVER AGAIN will I be in this mess. Unlike Alice, I know exactly where I am going this time around.

Art work by John Tenniel from Through the Looking Glass.

RIGHT NOW I HAVE TO FIGURE OUT THE DETAILS, THE WAY FORWARD, AND THE MECHANICS OF IT. HOW TO DO IT.

July WIP Day 1

 

Due to life, (laughing) I am behind schedule on the WIP and will have to work all July to catch up with work. Work. Work. Work. So the other day, I decided to make a schedule of what needed to be done first. I can't believe this year. I was writing so well, until the middle of March and since then I have been ill every month with something different, the last being bitten by some unknown insect while gardening (ants are suspected) and I've had serious hives and rashes since June 12th. It's hard to accept that this happened, but I still am taking medication for persistent hives right now. Now I have to get back on track. I started last Friday, looking and reading the work and making decisions on what I needed to do and in what order. I feel shaky coming back into this 2023 Nano Project but better late than never. I've hardly written a word for three months. Scary. I just want to make this note on the blog, because it's an important day for me. Making a renewed commitment to the work.

Gothic Vampire

But there are yellow bruises on my body

And violet stains

Though no white vampire came with lips

blood-crimsoned

To suck my veins!

— Théophile Gautier

This is what many on both sides have done.

“Everything faded into mist. The past was erased, the erasure was forgotten, the lie became the truth.” ― George Orwell

My swamp Rose Mallow this very hot June morning.

 

Rose Mallow (swamp)

This is true for me.

The author & naturalist Andrea Barrett once said: ''I’ve never known a writer who didn’t feel ill at ease in the world. Have you? We all feel unhoused in some sense. That’s part of why we write. We feel we don’t fit in, that this world is not our world, that though we may move in it, we’re not of it. Different experiences in our lives may enforce or ameliorate that, but I think if they ameliorate it totally, we stop writing. You don’t need to write a novel if you feel at home in the world. We write about the world because it doesn’t make sense to us. Through writing, maybe we can penetrate it, elucidate it, somehow make it comprehensible. If I had ever found the place where I was perfectly at home, who knows what I would have done? Maybe I would have been a biologist after all.''

(Terri Windling posted this on her Facebook)

The toddler in June

 

Another June, long ago. 

I haven't changed much and yet, I am someone else other than this child while retaining the child.

My brother was several years older than me so our lives were very different in many ways.

I love summer. I love the heat. It started here, in the delta of Mississippi. 

“One night you will ask me for something I cannot give.” 

          ― Gavriel 

              from Holly Black's The Coldest Girl in Coldtown

Iris Murdoch on how she composes.

IRIS MURDOCH on how she composes.

"Well, I think it is important to make a detailed plan before you write the first sentence. Some people think one should write, George woke up and knew that something terrible had happened yesterday, and then see what happens. I plan the whole thing in detail before I begin. I have a general scheme and lots of notes. Every chapter is planned. Every conversation is planned. This is, of course, a primary stage, and very frightening because you’ve committed yourself at this point. I mean, a novel is a long job, and if you get it wrong at the start you’re going to be very unhappy later on. The second stage is that one should sit quietly and let the thing invent itself. One piece of imagination leads to another. You think about a certain situation and then some quite extraordinary aspect of it suddenly appears. The deep things that the work is about declare themselves and connect. Somehow things fly together and generate other things, and characters invent other characters, as if they were all doing it themselves. One should be patient and extend this period as far as possible. Of course, actually writing it involves a different kind of imagination and work."

(This is how I work. No one ever said it better. Right now I am sitting quietly and letting it invent itself.)

Stuck In Gravity

This made my writing soundtrack for The Ambitious Fairy Project. I have to admit, I love this band. I found them a bit earlier this year. Never heard of them and they are definitely favorites. This is the beauty of Spotify. I guess this would be for the MMC. The WIP is finally settling. Perhaps, this is my heart book. The Book. The one that will define me as writer. I've written so many stories, but nothing like this. And what is really strange, is this is not the book I planned, it is not the book I dreamed of in anyway. Some days I don't even know how this happened to me. One possibility is that I am writing for very different reasons now. My motives have changed, and all my feelings about life are now rearranged. To finish it will my highest reward, and I know this, this reality.

June 1 2024

"And then one fairy night, May became June." — F. Scott Fitzgerald

        P.S. This year is a very important birthday, for lots of reasons, not about numbers, but desires and goals. However, the number is symbolic and my ambitions have been rearranged, and many of my feelings changed. It was indeed a fairy night and all the nights to come will be fairy nights, too.

I miss Graham Joyce

“Wonder has no opposite; it springs up already doubled in itself, compounded of dread and desire at once, attraction and recoil, producing a thrill, the shudder of pleasure and of fear.”
          ― Graham Joyce

Wood Speedwell, Veronica (lilac colored)

 

Wood Speedwell, Veronica family, lilac

wildflower

This is one of my favorite wildflowers. I adore this bloom. The color, everything. I've seen it before in my Twitter feed. I stole it. Laughing.

Lion confronting a dragon, 1505, by Domenico Beccafumi of Siena.

 

       Lion confronting a dragon, 1505, by Domenico Beccafumi of Siena.

Revisions Part 2

 

Image is of Lewis Carroll's revisions.

It's May 12, and I have not really completed any revisions. I was ill much of April (better now) and spent the time examining content. In other words, I became my own editor and I decided I would probably end up rewriting everything I had written. Laughing. But that is how it goes sometimes. Some scenes I will keep most of what I have written in dialogue and things like that. I have made some major changes in content. I felt the book had too much plot, especially along two subplots and I wanted to focus these threads and tighten the manuscript. So my manuscript on paper looks a lot like Lewis Carroll's and became smaller, which is a good thing. My reader was so disappointed he did not get to read, but he knows me and I gave him the usual talk on "why read something that is going to be gone soon?"

Needless to say, I moved some scenes, all this happens around the last third of the book and the first third, the last third being a mess and the first third being deleted completely. 

People around me weep when this happens. But I never do. It's hard, but I do know when something needs to be rewritten. Revisions are really about rewriting. No, let me brutally honest—writing a novel is 85% rewriting, at least. And that is where I am at now. I love this part. Smiling. I do. I see the book for what it can really be now. Its potential. Its purpose. Its plot, its themes, and the characters are developing into the people they need to be. It's a beautiful moment, but it's so much work. Writing is so much work. But this is a good place to be. I am sighing. I can see the book I want. I can see my vision. We, as writers, never fully write our visions perfectly, but we try to get as close as we can to what we wanted in those early days.

And so now I just keep doing the work. I show up. I write and write. I stay in the story.

Staying in the story is the key thing here. Because it's such a messy process, I work to organize all the time. It helps. I am so tired right now. So very, very tired.

SYML - Where's My Love (Acoustic)

Attempting to add all songs from the updated playlist. As of this date, May 11, I have not updated the list on the blog, deleting songs I no longer use. I am going to talk how I use music when writing. It's plot centric, a device I used long, long ago and have decided to continue with this novel. In other words, I can look at my song list and see nearly every scene in the book. A person who does not know the plot will not be able to see it. But my lone reader can and also my friends who have followed me as I work. This allows me to stay in my story, but there are also other many benefits for me as a writer when working on such a complex story.

Happy May Day, 2024

 Ballerina rose.

Can we forget?

To want to forget something is to think of it

— French proverb

Revision and Rewriting

"During periods of frustration and hold-up you must think of yourself as Edmond Dantès during his dungeon phase."

Bernard T. Joy, Twitter

Faulkner and Modernist scholar

Revision and Rewriting the WIP

I don't know what I am doing. This is not the book I want to write anymore. It has changed in my mind or perhaps I have changed. See Nano 2024. Because that is when I found the story.

The Dragon Slayer

The Dragon Slayer by Franz von Stuck, 1913

A Love Poem

“She was a beautiful dreamer. The kind of girl, who kept her head in the clouds, loved above the stars and left regret beneath the earth she walked on.”
                                               — Robert M Drake

Of Monsters and Men - Wild Roses (Official Lyric Video)

I will be the gladdest thing
    Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
    And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds
    With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
    And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show
    Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
    And then start down!  — Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love feels small in stormy weather.

“Every sickness has an alien quality, a feeling of invasion and loss of control that is evident in the language we use about it.”
                   

                                    ― Siri Hustvedt

Loving your work is a joy.

“Do anything, but let it produce joy."

— Walt Whitman

Love. Love. Love. Longing.

We all experience within us what the Portuguese call saudade, an inexplicable longing, an unnamed and enigmatic yearning of the soul, and it is this feeling that lives in the realms of imagination and inspiration, and is the breeding ground for the sad song, for the love song. Saudade is the desire to be transported from darkness into light, to be touched by the hand of that which is not of this world.

                                —  Nick Cave 

Love. Love. Love.

“It’s all messy: the hair, the bed, the words, the heart. Life” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Love. Love. Love.

Things I Love. A night sky dotted with millions of stars Writing with a fountain pen on 100% cotton paper Tea with some sugar Warm breezes The sound of a bee buzzing on my flowers Books Flowers My lost boy.

Love. Love. Love.

I believe that love is the only balance to death and the only antidote to ego. I believe that kissing a woman with your tongue, as good as it is, is better when you are also making love to her with your penis. I believe that sex and love, when they come together, become the strongest human force on the face of the earth. Directly flouted, they become violence, wars; sublimated, they become art; acknowledged and lived, they become happiness.”

— Sebastien de Saint Vallier, Dance, Judy Cuevas

Forbidden Love

"The idea of a connection so irresistible that you’ll defy everything to be together? It’s the ultimate swoon. Part of what I find so alluring about it is the idea of seeing someone, really seeing them and being seen in return, cuts through layers of bigotry, hatred, and social conditioning."

                 — Laini Taylor on Forbidden Love

Love Among the Fauna

"Some days I am yellow and warm-hearted, living in tune to place and people, eyes opened, soul stirring, skin pricked, attached to nothing and everything." — MJ

(Personal Note: Today it's Spring and I am so grateful. Winters are always unkind to me. I do not like the cold and as I have aged, I like it less and less. Mentally, I sink under the weight of a gray sky and frosty temps that chill me to my bones. I can't ever get warm, never fully relaxed, and to distract myself, I usually over read or write until I can no longer see straight. I tried not to do that this year. But there were days of failures. I also tend to get a little gloomy and worry over my work and this year I exiled myself from my writing desk around the middle of February. I just could not go on any longer and knew it was destructive. This week I began again. I did allow myself to make notes. But only by handwriting. The only writing I allowed myself was free writing that would not be used in the WIP Fantasy. This decreased the tension I was experiencing, a success story if there ever was one. I learned this from writer Laini Taylor who talks a lot about process, free writing that is not used, day dreaming, keeping notebooks, and learning to love how you work on a novel. Working on a novel for me is extremely messy. I don't simply do all these drafts people talk about. I do things as I go. I write a chapter or section of the book until I feel it is something I might keep, until I like it, then I move on. This latest project has been more complex. I changed ships (who is the hero and love interest subplot) on my novel in December and then in January, I decided I wanted to write it in a new tense and use lots of vignettes. This meant I would literally have to revise the entire novel at some point. The decision to do this was so complicated, so resisted even by me that I wrote little in January and wondered if I had lost my mind. Part of my reasoning for this is a long story and I shall explain one day, but not today. I am motivated. It's spring. The sun is shining, flowers are budding and some are about to bloom. I can't complain. I made it through another winter. I survived and I am still in love with my story.)

Love. Love. Love. Fauna.

Violet : Introverted, profoundly introspective. It doesn’t hide itself, as some would say, out of modesty. It hides in order to understand its own secret. Its scent is a glory but demands that we go in search of it: its scent says what cannot be said. A bunch of violets means, Love others as you love yourself.

                  — Clarice Lispector

                        Fauna

Love with an Owl aka A Fairy Tale about Love.

 

This drawing is by Mary Jane Begin from a character in Terri Windling's The Wood Wife. Owl Boy.

It's a haunting image to me and when I saw it, I had to post, because I too, have an Owl creature which I wrote a fairy tale about a few years ago. The Owl King is my own creation, not really inspired by Terri's work though Terri and I love transformations in fairy stories or wonder tales. Terri herself is the inspiration, because after looking at her online presence for years, I became more comfortable with the idea of people changing into other forms, a bird or a wolf or even a butterfly or moth. I saw these images in films, of course, over the years. But I had never thought of my work going the way of transformation until about 2009, the year my mother died when I thought, maybe she just changed into something I could not see as she left this world. Maybe she is still here? Birds are my biggest inspirations. I love birds. And the owl is one of my favorites. The crow is another. I made friends with a crow last year in my garden. He came nearly every day for the longest time and he seemed to talk to me. The Owl King is very different from how I find the crow transformations in my fiction. The Owl King is partly inspired from Greek myth though I don't literally use the actual myth of that time. Just partly. I have created my own myth and loosely taken from another.

Halsey - Young God (Official Audio)

Profound. Reminds me of something I'm after.......

THIS

Once I saw at Cumae a Sibyl hanging in a jar, and when boys asked ‘Sibyl, what do you want?' she replied 'I want to die'. Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent Σιβυλλα τι θελεις respondebat illa αποθανειν θελω. — Petronius

It is always in motion, this Life.

"This empire of suffering and pain. There is no end to it. There cannot be. When we are poor we wish to be rich, when we are rich we wish to be loved, when we are loved we wish for freedom from pain and endless life and unchanging happiness. It is a great, unstoppable conundrum."

— Stefan Bachmann

THIS

“At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint, or even remember it. It is enough.”

― Toni Morrison

 

A slew of Patricia McKillip's book. McKillip was always a favorite read. The first book I read by her was Winter Rose, a sort of retelling of Tam Lin. After that, I bought her Riddle-Master books and then bought everything she wrote. I am rereading her at the moment, while I pause and relax. It was such a loss to lose McKillip in 2022. Covers are by artist, Kinuko Y. Craft.

Taking the rest of the month off.

 I made a post on Twitter/X that I am having a difficult time working right now.

In fiction, tone, mood, voice, and style interrelate, — things I am learning to improve. So at the moment, writing is hard work for me. All learning and practice is. But I crave process. That's the artist/creative/messy in me. [MJ]

I posted an image of Francesca Woodman in her studio for several reasons, but to hint that emotionally, I am exhausted. I attribute some of this fatigue to winter and illness, to what it simply is as seasonal depression, but there are other reasons, too. My process as a creative is very messy and immersive and I've been working for months, relentless. Even obsessively. I tend to neglect other aspects of living when I do this.

I have been sitting in this creative corner since last November. In December, I made strides, but they were costly. Francesca Woodman always sat in this corner, metaphorically and it destroyed her. I don't do that. I am too self-aware. I know then to pause, to rest, and yes, I should not wait to do this when I am this flat and lost in feeling. Pausing is not a failure. It's a salvation. During my pauses, I usually go to handwriting and reading, to reflection. To a sort of reinvention of the work in my mind and notebooks. These allows me spaces. I need these spaces. I need to be alone. I need to be away from social media, but it all just becomes noise to me, chatter, and I become overwhelmed as though the images and words of so many people are:

 'abnormally rapid and even auditory.'

 That's a metaphor but it fits.

  

I have to do something. I have to make a change. And I do.

Alan Garner is a rare mind.

"I live, at all times, for imaginative fiction; for ambivalence, not instruction. When language serves dogma, then literature is lost. I live also, and only, for excellence. My care is not for the cult of egalitarian mediocrity that is sweeping the world today, wherein even the critics are no longer qualified to differentiate, but for literature, which you may notice I have not defined. I would say that, because of its essential ambivalence, 'literature' is: words that provoke a response; that invite the reader or listener to partake of the creative act. There can be no one meaning for a text. Even that of the writer is a but an option. "Literature exists at every level of experience. It is inclusive, not exclusive. It embraces; it does not reduce, however simply it is expressed. The purpose of the storyteller is to relate the truth in a manner that is simple: to integrate without reduction; for it is rarely possible to declare the truth as it is, because the universe presents itself as a Mystery. We have to find parables; we have to tell stories to unriddle the world. "It is a paradox: yet one so important I must restate it. The job of a storyteller is to speak the truth; but what we feel most deeply cannot be spoken in words. At this level only images connect. And so story becomes symbol; and symbol is myth." 

                        — Alan Garner

                     The Voice That Thunders

Failure is part of a writer's daily life.

 

"If you are writing well and failing and submitting and persevering, there is no more that anyone can ask of you, even yourself."

— Stephen Marche

Berthe Moriset, Girl Writing

(Writers are always making decisions. Some of them are failures and will be cut, pasted, and moved, or even deleted. Some will stay and be published. But failures and mistakes are part of the writing process. Revisions are like purgatory. Dante's.)

48 Days until Spring

 

The countdown begins. I survived January. Spring is coming. My late mother's Heritage Iris, surrounded by spiderwort. I am going to work both the gardens this year. Do, as they say. Get some sunshine, be with nature. Spring is coming. The spiderwort is the first to pop up after early bulb plants. Spiderwort and irises are always springtime. I didn't really make plans this winter. I am going to play it day by day this year. Have fun. This is one of the most beautiful flowers I know. I love gardening so much. I do. I do. I do.

The perfect quote to describe my main character..

“It was a fairy tale, no fooling. It was unreality becoming real. This frightened her. Because people don't care for unreality becoming real. It pricks their well-fed minds, you see, with something like a hunger pang. They prefer the logical stuffiness of expectancy." 

                                       — Richard Matheson

Genre writers I love.

Naomi Novik, Juliet Marillier, Patricia McKillip, Holly Black, Laini Taylor, Katherine Harbour, Anne Rice, Anne Bishop, Rebecca Ross. Grace Draven, Maggie Stiefvater. In no certain order. That's 11 because Anne Rice is really an out of the box fantasy and paranormal writer. These are all wordsmiths, too, exceptional prose writers. Writers who have romance in their stories. Writers who like girls and goblins.

So far, so good

My mother told me once that "disappointment" was a feeling that destroyed more dreams than failure. Genuine disappointment in people or personal expectations or predicament. Its cousins are frustration and despair. Disappointments are always cruel and sharp and cold. But she reminded me, there are worst things than disappointment and most of us, if we are lucky, only read about those things in books.

Gray 2024

 

I've got a moment, since I am working online tonight and I thought I would post a pic of me, all gray. Just gray. Laughing. It's so appropriate for January 2024, a month where I have suffered from the flu and endured, ice, snow, and brutal cold weather. I wrote on Twitter/X that January is always a year to me, and it is. I seem to fade into a gray ghost in January, but by the middle of February I am buying tulips and looking at seeds and planning a garden. I just have to get through this month and the first half of February, and my countdown to spring begins. Little writing is going on now. Just organizing files and a little revision. I opted to read a few new books and try to relax. Today was the first day of January that I really had a decent meal, I had a filet, some air fry okra, baked potatoes done in herbs and paprika and even a glass of tea. I've been drinking only water all month. I've also been living on can soup and baked potatoes, and scrambled eggs. Tomorrow I am having some sausage pinwheels for breakfast. At the end of next week, I'll go back to creating new words and moving on with the work in progress. I've been working hard since November 1 when I began NaNo. This is my NaNo project. A new version of the older book that went nowhere. I am energized. I like it. It's got the right hero now, it's got a better conflict, it's more compelling in story and voice. It's rich in folklore. It's terribly romantic at times. It's got kicker conflict. I just love it. Laughing. I am almost compelled to write it, something I haven't experienced in a few years since John's death. I miss John. Seven years now. It seems like yesterday at times, some days it seems long ago, almost foggy. It's insane at times. I think a loss like this is like a hole. It's there and most days you just walk around it, and some days you kind of fall into the hole and sink. Most days now, I walk around it. I feel okay. I sort of feel safe in myself if that is a thing. I feel moored to something again. Me. I don't care for selfies anymore. I don't really care about social media. I have this nice life going. Art. Writing. A garden to plan, books to read. A cat who annoys me. My blog is for bits and pieces. I don't even talk about writing that much. I write instead. I try to be kind to others. I made a pen pal list so I would be more than a name and photo on social media to some of my friends. I would be a real person writing snail mail and sending post cards and all that old stuff that people ignore nowadays. I have plans. I play vinyl music and dance. I like to cook. I want to exercise and be able to do cartwheels again. I have these little ambitions. They make me smile. Smiling is important. Laughing is important. Living the best me I can is extremely important. Giving back is nice. Being kind is nice. I can do all this. I can make a difference. Gray and all.

The Middle of January 2024

“Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found. Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped to help you in their turn. Trust dreams. Trust your heart, and trust your story.” — Neil Gaiman

Symbol and Metaphor

There is no language and no knowledge without symbol and metaphor. Two consequences arise from this: one is that we require imagination both to make and to interpret symbols, and the other is that symbols themselves beckon us through language to that which is beyond language. In other words, symbols are energized between the two poles (as Coleridge would say) of immanence and transcendence. 

                          — Malcolm Guite

 Malcolm Guite

Neil Gaiman on Making Mistakes

“I hope that in this year to come you make mistakes because if you are making mistakes then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before and, more importantly, you're doing something. So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make new mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art or love or work or family or life. Whatever it is you're scared of doing, do it. Make your mistakes, next year and forever.”

— Neil Gaiman

"With the Uncanny one has reached the fringes of the Numinous."

                  —  C. S. Lewis

More and more I appreciate Tolkien and all those writers who inspired him

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

'I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.' — W B Yeats

The Silver Apples of the Moon by Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh

Not a canary in a cage.

‘I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.’

— Mary Oliver

The King of Owls by Louise Erdrich

They say I am excitable! How could

I not scream? The Swiss monk’s tonsure

spun till it blurred yet his eyes were still.

I snapped my gaiter, hard, to stuff back

my mirth. Lords, he then began to speak.

Indus catarum, he said, presenting the game of cards

in which the state of the world is excellent described

and figured. He decked his mouth

as they do, a solemn stitch, and left cards

in my hands. I cast them down.

What need have I for amusement?

My brain’s a park. Yet your company

plucked them from the ground and began to play.

Lords, I wither. The monk spoke right,

the mealy wretch. The sorry patterns show

the deceiving constructions of your minds.

I have made the Deuce of Ravens my sword

falling through your pillows and rising,

the wing blades still running

with the jugular blood. Your bodies lurch

through the steps of an unpleasant dance.

No lutes play. I have silenced the lutes!

I keep watch in the clipped, convulsed garden.

I must have silence, to hear the messenger’s footfall

in my brain. For I am the King of Owls.

Where I float no shadow falls.

I have hungers, such terrible hungers, you cannot know.

Lords, I sharpen my talons on your bones.

Detail from Simone Martini's Annunciation with St. Margaret and St. Ansanus

Detail from Simone Martini's Annunciation with St. Margaret and St. Ansanus

—

"He shall be called the son of the Great God, and by his name shall he be hailed as the Son of God, and they shall call him Son of the Most High."

— Dead Sea scrolls manuscript Q4Q246

Translated from the Aramaic. It has been suggested that Luke's version was taken from this Qumran text. The Feast of the Annunciation is in March, but I find myself looking at images in December as Christmas approaches. The center of 3 panels painted, the saints being positioned on outside panels. This painting was worked on in 1333, a beautiful example of Christian art done in the early medieval period. The angel Gabriel announcing to Mary that she was to be the mother of the Son of the Most High. Simone Martini did this work, I believe for the Pope in Avignon, and it was later moved a few times. It's one of my favorites of the full Annunciation works from that period. My focus in study has always been Greco-Roman to the death of Joan of Arc, because this was when the world made a big change that is still in action today.