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Posts Tagged ‘novel’

A full night’s sleep…what is that exactly? 24 hours in just one day may sound like a ton of time to accomplish things on your to do list. Sure, a ton of time if you don’t partake in sleep. Last night I chose to stay up writing until nearly 1:30am to hammer out the rest of the chapter in Free Fall I was working on. This was after I goofed around reading blogs, writing a blog, and talking to friends on Facebook when I should have been working on my chapter. Truth be told, the creative bug wasn’t biting until around 12:30am, so I wouldn’t have been writing even if I hadn’t been goofing around on the internet.

I started working on this posting about an hour and a half ago. I’ve finally made it to the second paragraph, which is progress in itself. My eyes are heavy, and I find myself dozing off here and there.  My body is craving sleep. My mind keeps trying to convince itself that I have enough energy to write another chapter before I allow myself the comfort of a soft pillow  beneath my head. Mmmmmm….soft pillows. There. I relocated from my couch to my bed where I am relaxing on soft pillows while I continue to compose this post. I would be angry at myself for falling asleep before it’s done, so I will deprive myself a little longer while I finish. I’m sure to be slap happy before I finish, which will lead to some creative juices, I hope.

Ultimately, sleep will always come last in my world. There’s little to no time for writing during a normal day when I must wear the Social Worker hat on top of the mommy hat. Speaking of the mommy hat, I missed it! My girls were gone for three whole nights! I didn’t have anyone to cook for, which is preposterous. I always have people to cook for! Tonight I made homemade pasta sauce. Sauce in a jar can’t compare to homemade. Seriously, try it. You just throw some fresh garlic and olive oil, mushrooms and onions if you desire in a pan. Add in your garden fresh tomatoes, a little basil, salt pepper etc to season it and  let it simmer until you have the perfect sauce. We put ours on rainbow colored pasta because what kids don’t want to eat rainbow pasta? I topped it with slivers of fresh mozzarella and basil from the garden. I wish I had photographed it. You can’t beat beautiful and delicious.

So after a day as Social Worker, mommy and master chef comes a night of writing. I’ll have plenty of time to sleep when I’m finished with Free Fall.  Ohhh, but then I could finish Purgatory, Overeater Anonymous, Finding Forgiveness, and My Musical Life. I’ll have plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead. For now, I choose to write.

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I try my best to be positive most of the time because there’s already enough negativity floating around the atmosphere. I hope that my little bits of positivity cancel out the negative, and at the very least make my own surroundings neutral.  Yesterday’s post on heartbreak left me feeling a little guilty and pessimistic. (I’ll save that silly guilt complex as the topic for another day)

Perhaps I should have mentioned  that without love there would be no heartbreak. Love is a positive thing, right?  One of my good friends recently reminded me that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. True story! Loving someone can reveal things about yourself that you wouldn’t have discovered otherwise. Loving someone can change  how you see the world. Loving someone can make you angry. Loving someone can consume your entire being. Loving someone can….blah blah blah blah. I really could go on and on.

There are so many types of love to describe because human beings have an awe-inspiring capacity to love in so many different ways. For example, my love as a mother to my daughters is the most beautiful love I could imagine. It’s a love that started at conception, and grew as their tiny bodies grew within my own. According to my girls, they chose me to be their mother, and I’d like to imagine this is true. This love as a mother is gentle, yet fierce in the same breath. Their pain is my pain, and their joy is my joy. My love for the clients I work with is one born out of empathy, but strong and true nonetheless.

My MC  in Free Fall has found that she can love and hate the same person just as equally. Charlie hates ****** (still haven’t picked a name I like) because the love she feels for him is a reckless love, an all-consuming love. She didn’t seek out these feelings, they just sort of  forced themselves into existence. She tried to convince herself that it was a bad case of lust causing her knees to turn to jelly; just a mind game causing the synapses of her brain to sizzle in response to the idea of him, not the flesh and blood him.

The hardest part of  Charlie’s love/hate is that it’s unrequited. That makes the heartbreak cut deeper,   nicking  her soul. This intrusive pain pisses her off, adding fuel to a fire that she never wanted in the first place. Although she may not have asked for this love, she can’t get rid of it. She’s addicted;  hooked on it. You can play the song below for a pretty clear picture of how she’s feeling.

The real question Charlie and even people in the nonfiction world have to face is…

Is loving worth getting your heart broken? The verdict is still out for Charlie, but what about you?

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To put it blatantly, life sucks sometimes. People can hurt you with words or actions. Sometimes words left unsaid burn more than those that ever cross a person’s lips. Heartbreak can come out of nowhere and destroy your entire life before you even realize something’s amiss. Your heart may not literally break into pieces, but it sure as hell feels that way.

Life is full of disappointments that lead to the feeling of heartbreak. There’s heartbreak in failure, death, love, etc. I’m working on describing how my current MC’s heartbreak feels. This is what I have so far…

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This persistent ache beneath my breast is new. There are a thousand knifes cutting away the only part of me that has ever felt truly alive. It’s an ache so severe that it has spread like wildfire, leaving my soul charred and quaking in its wake. I keep trying to swallow the shattered pieces that have lodged themselves in my throat, but nothing brings relief. No romance novel ever warned me that you could literally choke on heartache.

Perhaps this is what it feels like before someone dies of a broken heart. I’ll have to google that later. Strike that, Web MD is a better choice. Google isn’t quite safe yet, it reminds me of him. Ouch. Make that one thousand and one knives.

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That is one fictional character’s take on what it feels like to have your heart broken in a romantic relationship. I’m curious as to what heartbreak feels like to you. Please share!

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Everyone is afraid of something. I’m afraid of water I can’t see the bottom of, driving over bridges, public speaking etc. Even those who proclaim to be fearless have baggage that haunts them at the most inopportune times. Somewhere in the depths of your soul lay the secret fears that cause an ache in your chest. It’s the fears caused by that residual pain of said baggage that burn the most.

I’m afraid of something happening to one of my children. I compensate for this fear by being overly protective at times. Strike that…I am overly protective most of the time. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again- I’m a fierce momma tiger. Mess with one of my cubs and you and I are gonna have issues. You don’t want an issue with me, it’s not pretty.

On another level, I’m afraid of being rejected based on the content of my thoughts, therefore I don’t speak up at times, and shyness overcomes me. Most of my heavy duty baggage is packed to the brim, overflowing with rejection of all types. It gets hard to accept that there could be any other result than rejection after being not good enough one too many times. Sometimes you don’t even need to hear the words not good enough to know that it’s true, you feel it.

My main character in Free Fall just had her heart shattered, which is actually a positive thing. She thought she was heartless, incapable of feeling anything ever again. Her free fall turned into a certain miss. A crash and burn. A pain so striking that it hurts her to breathe. How does one go from a numb and unfeeling soul to complete and utter heartbreak? The answer is simple, yet complicated. The answer is love. Don’t worry boys and girls, she’s one tough cookie. You can read her story one day soon. I’m almost sold on the whole e-publishing thing.

PS- No one is worthless unless they choose to be. Don’t let anyone make you feel not good enough. Here’s a pretty song for ya.

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Below you will find a looking glass into the world of a lost soul named Charlie. She’s about to embark on a path of no return; a thrilling, fierce and heartbreaking free fall.

Ann Smith is the best kind of friend; she tells it how it was no matter how much the truth hurts. And let’s be honest, sometimes the truth burns clean through one side of the soul and out the other. Other times it isn’t as quick, instead it leaves scars reminiscent of cigarette burns all over the heart until eventually there isn’t any space left for healing. If there isn’t any clean tissue to move forward with all you have left is bitterness. And anger. And eventually, hatred.

Verbal word vomit had recently become a problem of mine. My theory is that it stems from years of keeping it bottled, the cork airtight, leaving no room for the truth to rear its ugly head at me. These days, all you have to do is get one little glass of wine in me for the deluge to begin.  What I couldn’t say out loud, not even to Anne, and barely even acknowledge to myself is that I am lost, suffocating in my own skin.

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This is a place of enchantment. It entices you to lose yourself within its beauty. The air is heavy; thick with magic. The earth in this simple garden bleeds the history of spirits who’ve walked these same paths before.  It’s almost too much for a person to experience alone. I’m afraid to blink, for if I do, the magic might dissipate into thin air, and never have existed at all. A person could lose hours of their life just breathing it all in.

I was so enamored with this small part of the earth I claimed as my own magic garden that I almost failed to notice the man perched silently on the stone steps. He appeared to be watching me, laughter caught in his teeth. Red heat splintered its way across my face in embarrassment, and then anger at the blatant intrusion.  I didn’t want to share my new found magical spot with anyone, let alone a stranger in this foreign land. This is supposed to be my time, my path of self-discovery.

“Hello.” The man’s musical voice set my neurons ablaze. Every bit of anger melted away as quick and hot desire forced its way in. I found myself wanting to feast upon the ripeness of his red, wind burned lips. The world lost all sense of reason from that moment on. There is no rational explanation for a complete stranger making me want things I don’t have the vocabulary to describe.

“Hi.” I squeaked back at him, my eyes darting all around to make sure he was really speaking to me. I was merely a speck of nothingness next to the aura of raw beauty he exuded.  There’s no way the lips formed on those lips could be directed towards me. I lost all sense of ownership of the magic. It was he who belonged in its beauty, not me.

“I’m glad someone else stumbled into this garden. I hadn’t planned on spending so much time here. It has a way of drawing you in, some invisible magic perhaps?”

He must be a telepath. Or I spoke aloud instead of merely thinking the same thing only moments ago. I stood rock still, ignoring the now painful desire that had made its home in my loins.

“It’s the way I can feel the air. The way it smells. The green. Can you feel it?” He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he spoke.

How could I not feel it? There couldn’t possibly be enough air for both of us to share. Ripples of sweat formed themselves under my arms and dripped down the backs of my knees despite the crisp air sending its breeze rustling the trees, blowing my hair across my face. I breathed deep to try to catch my own scent. Did I smell? Is that what he was insinuating? Do I have something green in my teeth? Spinach salad from my lunch? Shit. He’s making fun of me.

He stood abruptly, making his way towards me. “Please forgive me, Miss.”

Before my brain could consider the meaning behind his words those lips were on mine, soft at first, then hungrier, delving his sweet spearmint flavored tongue into my mouth. My arms took on a life of their own, wrapping themselves around the broadness of his shoulders. My hips sought out his, digging themselves against him in complete abandon. I pulled away, desperate to catch my breath, but more desperate still to rub my cheek against the roughness of his unshaven cheek, my head settling into the crook of his neck.

“Miss, I’m sorry to have upset you.” The man whose name I hadn’t the decency of asking for wiped tears I had no knowledge of crying from my eyes.

“No, I’m sorry.” I whispered into the wind before turning my back on the flood of uncensored emotions. I did the only thing I was good at, I ran away.

Truth be told, the tears weren’t embarrassment, hurt, or anger. They were tears of honesty, brought on by something I hadn’t experienced up until that very moment in my life. I couldn’t help but smile as I traced my lips with my fingertips, finding them hot and swollen. I burst out into a fit of giggles upon boarding the tour bus that was to take me back to the hostel. I wouldn’t be surprised if a scarlet S tattooed itself across my forehead for all to see.

I skipped dinner and my usual bath accompanied by a glass of wine, not wanting the trace of him to be washed away with the grime that travel and sweat had streaked across my skin. As I found myself flitting off into a dreamless sleep; only one clear thought could be plucked from my stream of consciousness. So this is what passion feels like.

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She has a name…

…and an emerging personality to match.

The main character in Free Fall is Charlotte Evelyn, Charlie for short. I have a last name, but I’m not sold on it yet, so it could change at any time. As always, suggestions are welcome and greatly appreciated.

Charlotte = “free man”

Evelyn = “bird”

Sneak Peak into the life of Charlie:

Charlie is living a lie.  She gets out of bed each morning and paints the same phony smile on her face day after day. She goes through the motions of the day without really feeling,  no one noticing that she is slowly suffocating in her own skin. She is numb, almost dead inside.

An unexpected glimmer of hope shines through Charlie’s blackened soul and leaches on to the only clean part left. She begins to feel alive again, and becomes addicted to the feeling of being free, of living her life. Charlie must  make a choice; a messy life of loving, breathing, feeling or digging the phony smile back out and pasting it back on for good. What choice would you make? Is there a way for Charlie to find a happy medium between the past and present?

Maybe one day Charlie’s story will finish painting itself, and you will find her ending in a book on a shelf in some bookstore or library.

Maybe.

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I’ve  created a bucket list of sorts- things I would like to accomplish over the next decade. This list may seem pretty uneventful, but I’ve already experienced the two most amazing things of my life- Zoe and Piper. UPDATE- As always, I am a work in progress. I’ve accomplished a few things and found more to add to the list.

1. Take a trip with my girlfriends and not feel guilty about leaving my kids behind (early thirties would be great)

2. Run a 5k- not the way I run now with the whole start stop deal

3. Keep writing…even if the writing isn’t all that good

4. Find the balls to attempt to publish a book- anyone have a pair I can borrow?

5. Write poetry again…this may happen before thirty…I can feel the words bubbling beneath the surface

6. Find a church that feels like home (I’ve given up on this)

7. Learn how to forgive again- I used to be pretty forgiving, but some wounds are cut pretty deep

8. Take an art class

9. Go to a concert

10. Have more patience

11. Read a minimum of 100 books…keep a list to share with my daughters

12. Overcome my fear of water…or at least tempt fate and swim in the ocean a time or two

13. Minimize the whole guilt complex

14. Learn how to accept a compliment (probably not going to happen)

15.  Believe in myself, and pray for those who don’t have faith in me

16. Reconnect with old friends….quit retreating into my own little world when life hurts

17.  Minimize  my habit of procrastination

18. Inspire change ( I feel like this is happening in minute ways every time I step foot in the door of my current job)

19. Donate blood more often

20. Pay off my student loans (only 2 more years to go!)

21. Start writing down recipes so I have something to pass down to my children (thank Goodness for Pinterest)

22. Do something completely uncharacteristic of myself

23. Smile more  (according to my children I have new wrinkles from smiling)

24. Take more pictures with my children instead of just taking pictures of my children…one day they will need something to remember me by ( I’m getting there)

25. Not let how others make me feel impact me negatively

26. Learn how to cry again

27. Go rock climbing

28. Push past the fear of rejection and just go for it

29. Curse a little less…let’s be realistic, I won’t stop completely

30. Decide what I want to be when I grow up

31. Ride on a motorcycle (this has been spoken of many times, just a little slow to officially add to the list)

32. Be the best me I can be

33. Visit a gun range ( I don’t really care to do so any longer)

34. Sky dive (haven’t quite felt brave enough lately)

35. Visit Rocky Ridge Refuge

36. Sing for pleasure again despite stage fright

37. Learn to drive over bridges without having a panic attack

38. Become a better mother

39. Accept that I like food, I like to cook, my summer dresses may not always fit, and be happy despite the extra fluff.

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