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Archive for April, 2011

Ok…so I have been a little bad, no really bad about finishing Out of Slumber. I have set several goals for myself lately, none of which focused on my writing. I am trying to find a way to balance my healthier lifestyle with writing. There are only so many hours in the day to get everything accomplished.

The toughest thing for me has been the opening chapter. I think I might finally have something I can live with. Suggestions????

Chapter 1

Every part of me is itching for a change. I can feel it down to the marrow of my bones- this restlessness. The altitude of Aspen suffocates me with each breath of icy crispness that makes its way into my lungs. The snow and I aren’t exactly friends- it’s far past time for us to part ways. But, as usual, I have to wait for a sign. I know in my soul that a change is coming, but no external signs have been revealed for the rest of the world to see. Every clue or glimpse into my future will need to be recorded; the newly highlighted pathway must be followed.

I haven’t felt this restless, this sure of change since leaving Carly. Just bringing that word- her name into my train of thoughts brings it all back- the contempt, the anger, the abandonment. Although I haven’t thought about her in a while, it doesn’t take long for her residual negativity to sweep back in and temporarily suck away what little self-worth I was able to take with me when I walked away from her. The memory of her words reverberates through my mind, pierce my soul and make their way clean through to the other side.

“Keely Grant, you are no daughter of mine.”

Mothers are supposed to love and protect their daughters, but mine went out of her way to let me know that I wasn’t worthy of being loved. As a child she convinced me that I possessed an evil she was certain had wormed its way into me and rotted my soul. I’m pretty sure she was just crazy.

I tried to get through to the self absorbed witch of a woman I was unfortunate enough to call mother when allowed to acknowledge that familial relationship, but those efforts were dead in the water. Despite the way she treated me, the name calling, threats and bruises, I relentlessly tried to penetrate through the crazy that consumed her.That is, until the time came when I knew it was ok to let go. I can still feel the tips of my toes tingled in anticipation of freedom. My body will always remember that ache for the physical release- the pent up emotions I wasn’t allowed to express in her presence. My body had always craved physical activity- running preferably. It still does.

It was a long time coming. But eventually, I did something for myself. Gave in to that pure physical need, and walked away.

Away from her.

Away from that life.

I walked until the heat from the highway cement had burned through the rubber soles of my sneakers. Twelve hours of walking left my body screaming in agony. My mind, however, was steady, my thinking confident. I wasn’t worried or nervous that help would never come. I knew that someone would stop at my outstretched thumb. I had already seen it happen.

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I’m Backwards

I am an avid reader. I know that one reads a book from the front to the back. The story doesn’t make sense if you start reading at the middle or the end. You may sneak ahead when you can’t stand the suspense of what is to come. You may be like my daughter Zoe and reread certain parts of your favortie books over and over.

But, I often find myself working backwards. Whether it be with editing or working on something new. I seem to get the most out of writing when I start at the end and work my way to the beginning. Before I start writing, my main character(s) have already shown me what kind of obstacle they will face, and how they would like their story to end. It’s how they get to their ending that is usally the hardest part for me to write.

I was recently plauged by a long and horrible drought (writers block). The drought is indeed over, and words are once again flowing from the synapses in my brain and into my fingers on the keyboard. I am writing my story a little backwards, but if the beginning is anywhere near as good as the end, then it will be a story well told.

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