A little water and a lot of work

Normal life is always ongoing. That is definitely a fact. I now have a 2 year old and a 3 year old to wrangle daily. This fact is definitely eye-opening and sometimes makes me wonder why I don't just write children's books for now. They're so much shorter.

We are working to improve our home in small ways that seem so big to us. And we finally have a dining room table on order which, for my writing, will change everything. At the moment, I have no desk or surface to write on.  If I'm writing in a notebook, it is on my lap with a book as a stabilizer. If it's on our laptop, then I have to hold the laptop on my lap, using anything I can find to rest it on so it doesn't burn my knees.

I am excited to have a little station to set up shop. When we first moved to our current abode, I never thought that not having a desk would bother me, but it's become a nuisance when you have little ones attempting to crawl all over you when you are trying to do anything, forget being creative.

At least now, I know my writing notes won't immediately go flying when said children are attempting to climb into my lap and onto my back.

In writing world, much has happened, but much has not. I had such a wonderful breakthrough occur a few weeks ago, and wrote and wrote and wrote. Then I put down my pen, succumbed to sleep, and life picked up in fast pace, and I was eyeing my writing with anxiety.

I feel I need a good bonfire, music on my iPhone, and solitude to collect my feelings.  I've been sorting through my brain and finally putting to paper, but the paper is frightening.  Seeing it in print scares me.  What if no one likes it? What if, within my brain, it all makes sense, and once it is on paper, it doesn't translate?

How does one find that magic door that translates it flawlessly from brain to paper? I swore I found the door and walked right through at points in my life, but I always seem to be starting from square one every time. It is intimidating.

Music calms me, at least.

I think I need to follow my mentor, Mr. Bradbury, and just pick up, begin, and never let myself stop. It is time to make it an important piece in my life. It was always that "important" thing that got put off so readily. I need to bring if forth and allow it to grow.

All the love and dreams are wonderful, but without sunshine and a little water, a seed can never touch the sky.

Check In

My eyes are burning, so I will keep this relatively short. I am writing.

I am grateful to all of you who are reading. You are my silent cheering squad.  To me, that is the perfect kind. I don't like a lot of fanfare.

An Ethereal Mind

I have really been working hard on my book lately. I almost feel like I'm living in two worlds simultaneously.  It's wonderful, besides exhausting at times. It is as if I am reading my own book for the very first time.  It is that feeling of driving with the top down, your hair whipping through the air, and the wind playing across your skin. That wonderful feeling of freedom and heaven and beauty.

It hasn't been easy. I've hit a few roadblocks with things, but finding ways around it have come and allowed me to side-step a difficult patch of story and focus on something different, allowing that snarl of imagination to slowly unravel itself.  It can be more fun than you think.

For some reason, Lawrence Fishbourne from The Matrix just popped into my head. "Free your mind," and then he jumps an impossible distance from one sky scraper to the next.  It is cheesy, I will admit, but it seems that if you let your subconscious and your conscious meet, speak, and reminisce, wonderful things can happen. Impossibilities can become realities, and you can write a book that will one day sit on a shelf among the greats, calling out to those who walk by. Someone will pick it up, take it home, and enter your mind, your impossibility, and will enjoy every moment of that journey.

Can you imagine?

If you can, you are further than you think. But don't simply imagine and dream. Do. Dreamers can be doers. The best dreamers are those who do. They are the reason we have come so far, and they are the reason why we have the ability to continue to dream.

I will get off my philosophical and wordy pedestal now.  I have some caverns of imagination still to travel.