Missing the Magic

As I enjoy the spirit of the holidays, I am reminded of the sacred space of my blog and so missing my time here.  There is a small piece of magic that alights around me like pixie dust as I write from an anonymous place; dipping the pen ever so gently with a bit of hesitation yet finding some comfort in the process.  I do hope to get back to posting and reading others & find that source of inspiration that ensured that I would make the time.  And I hope that will help me with my WIP as well...which as a side note - really James Patterson, you had to write about witches and name it "The Gift", like you don't have enough writing material!  Yes, I know my "The Gifted" will be different, I'm not James Patterson nor do I aspire to be; however, I do think my working title will need a serious facelift!:) 

Hope you all have a peaceful holiday filled with magic!

National Adoption Month

LifeLines posted about adoption awareness this month and stated in the U.S. there are over 100,000 children in foster care waiting to be adopted.  I'm joining the AlphaHop (& hope to get back to Magpie soon!).

F orever is

O nly this moment

R ounded

E dge, Slipslide

V ague notion of future and home

E ntertain

R eality not Hope



Domestic Violence Awareness Month Alpha Hop

http://lifelinesjournaling.blogspot.com/

An alphabet poem in honor of domestic violence awareness month.

Make believe earth as canvas

And peace a periwinkle ink

Gesso the landscape erasing
Ism’s, aggression and hate
Collage the whole in relationship
Airbrush strokes of harmony and love
Leaving space for diversity and growth

Mag 34

Mag 34


puppet shadows
caress the wall
mock the moment, flickers
of turned backs
whisper a silent story

as snowflakes blanket
naked limbs,
wounded words
twist in the air
the wick burns bare

Character Sketch

I recently came across some blog posts focusing on characters (I think there may have been a blogfest but I missed it).  In my "travels", I also came across this Character Chart.  I thought it was interesting and helpful.  For linear processers it will feel comfortable and for those more right-brained this chart can help organize thoughts.  As for me, to flesh out a character I need to use the senses as I find it much richer.  I'll use Shayla as an example.

Quick-List (these details originally came out as I've written her story):
15 year old female
A bit awkward, clumsy physically & socially
Pale
Colored red hair, black streaks
Long parted bangs covering eye
Enjoys writing and art
Intelligent
Divorced parents
Younger brother
home-schooled
Labeled with mental health diagnoses

OR, the actual character sketch that I wrote, which may look familiar as I included a variation of this in an earlier post:

Shayla felt like an alien transplant in a world filled with coffee shops and malls, tight clothing and short-shorts. Shayla could not stand the concrete crowds. She did not hear their thoughts. She heard their feelings, deep in her veins, pulsing through her heart. Insecurity feels like a flutter of baby bird wings not quite ready to hit the air current. Sadness feels congealed, sluggish;  blood moving through quicksand. Guilt feels like tapioca pudding. Anger matches the cliché of boiling blood combined with a brewing thunderstorm.  And happiness, well happiness tickles its way through my arteries, causing me to laugh out loud.

I used both emotional and physical feeling in this passage.  I will also explore Shalya by answering questions through story such as what color does she see the world, what song does she hum in the shower, what smell triggers a memory and what textures soothe her.  Oftentimes I will collage images for the visual and sometimes I come across an image that begs to be written.  Perhaps this is how others work with their characters as well?  [Although I've written for years, this sharing of thoughts with other writers is new to me:)]

Mag 33

Somewhere along my blog wanderings, I came across Magpie Tales, a blog that hosts writing prompts & links.  This week's prompt is this picture of a popular, upscale Italian fragrance from the 1930's - if Google is correct:)  Gazing at this picture brought to mind the next image (also found in my wanderings from Magic Moonlight) & together they formed:

Drops on pulse points

Hint of cathedrals and wine

A sharpened gaze under a nightsky

If I peel mosaic layers

Will you see

beyond the moonsplash on the arches and stairs

Or will you see crumbled stone

Concrete blocks of bone

Will you see lips, eyes, flesh

An artist's brush and awl

Or will you hear the aria in my spiritsong

Will my banner of shimmery stars

and lightrays fly

or will you raise your own

overshadowing all 

Random Words

Inspiration has been elusive, lost among a mulititude of obligations recently.  In an effort to piece words together - at this point I think I would even welcome See Jack Run -  I opened up a book to a random page and picked five words to string together somehow(sapphire, whisper, mesa, cradle, consort):

The silver whispering of the Shadow Goddess
Flutters on the wind
Evoking images of exotic power; her

Fingers mold mountains
Gentle exhale, a cool breeze
Tears cleanse, nourish soil
Feathered wings blanket the fatigued

Earth, her consort
Yields to her whim
Provides soil to seed
Entangles flowered knots in her hair
Bares glittering gems to adorn and to heal

A Sapphire-desire as
Lush vines entwine her legs
Lifts her to mesas
As she cradles the moon

Dark and Stormy Night

It was a dark and stormy night

Caressing my mood as
Mother Nature sings my song
Fingers of wind stroke chords
Rhythm of thunder matches rage
I scream in time
Lightening strikes in beat
Face uplifted, in harmony with rain
Only a sotto voice remains

Merry Go Round

Look around about this round

About this merry-go-round around

If at all God's gaze upon us fall
His mischievous grin, look at him

Forget about the reasons and

The treasons we are seeking

Forget about the notion that

Our emotions can be swept away

Seek Up...DMB

The merry-go-round beckoned children and adults alike to the fairgrounds.  Lights twinkled in the twilight as children squealed while carnies squirted them with waterguns from the plastic horses.  Shayla still couldn't believe that Ms. Rose had assigned this exercise as her First Level exam.  Her fingers brushed the familiar energy of the crystal choker, drawing strength as she faced the onslaught.  Before Ms. Rose had found her and brought her to the academy, Shayla felt like an alien transplant in a world filled with coffee shops and malls, tight clothing and short-shorts. Shayla could not stand the concrete crowds. She did not hear their thoughts. She heard their feelings, deep in her veins, pulsing through her heart. Shayla described it once to a friend:

Insecurity feels like a flutter of baby bird wings not quite ready to hit the air current.

 Sadness feels congealed, sluggish; my blood moving through quicksand.

Guilt feels like tapioca pudding.

Anger matches the cliché of boiling blood combined with a brewing thunderstorm.

 And happiness, well happiness tickles its way through my arteries, causing me to laugh out loud.

As time went on and the overwhelm grew stronger, Shayla withdrew.  Ms. Rose and the academy (for those "gifted") had given Shayla an opportunity to understand herself and a chance at the semblance of a "normal" life.  Tonight was Shayla's first challenge.  She prepared for this test of sensory overload all day.  She meditated and cleansed in the salt pool, lit sage, practiced visualization exercises of healing light surrounding her and thanked her shadow angel in advance for strength. 

Shayla walked through the entrance, her blood immediately battling itself with the conflicting blitz of joy, anger, frustration and even sadness.  Shayla was always amazed by the layers of simultaneous emotions others felt.  She took a moment to center herself, breathing in deeply, ignoring the aromatic assault of asphalt, funnel cake, cotton candy and smoke; focusing instead on oxygen filling her lungs.  The sweet air soothed her neurons as if singing soft lullabyes to the emotional explosion. 

Shayla finally relaxed and began to walk beyond the entrance.  Her task involved one complete tour of the carnival without dissolving into a crying fit or freezing.  She began to mix with the crowd and realized that she actually could take notice.  Shayla watched a little girl in pigtails with a gap-toothed smile eating ice cream, chocolate sauce dripping on her chin as her mom frantically tried to wipe up the mess.  She saw a young freckled boy crying when his dad took him away from the arcade games and a group of teen girls laughing loudly to draw attention to themselves from the boys nearby.  All details normally denied Shayla due to her "gift."  Shayla was halfway through the park when she began to feel an itch.  Not an itch she could scratch, but an itch in her blood.  She looked around, trying to find the source.  A sea of faces and blurry rides surrounded her as she began to lose her focus.  She silently called to her shadow for a stronger shield of healing energy.  She felt a slight shift of air but the itch continued.  Shayla began scratching at her wrist and felt the panic increasing.  She began turning in circles looking for the energy vamp that had to be near sucking her dry, forcing her into a merry-go-round world of emotional insanity. 

(Ok, so Shayla really isn't going insane or I wouldn't have a book to write, but the writing exercise called for a beginning and end with "merry-go-round" which sounded fun even if a bit contrived on the ending!)

Storyboards

I have pieces of Shayla's story scattered throughout journals, writing pads, napkins - how cliche' :) - & my computer.  Scattered is definitely the operative word here.  I've met some writers that swear by index cards.  I know of one author who types scenes, prints it all out & then spreads it across the floor as she pieces together her story.  I once read that Anne Rice writes elaborate character sketches & ideas all over her office walls.  Visual images kept floating in my head like dust mites so I knew I needed some format that would capture the flavor.  I decided to try a storyboard even though I have no real idea what I'm doing.  This picture doesn't capture the board entirely & I know I have more to add but once I started working on this I began to feel lighter.  I'm curious to hear how others begin organizing their ideas...

Less is More

I came across a writing exercise Jenny Matlock off on a tangent  that will force some discipline into my rambling words. What I did with my summer vacation in exactly 100 words.


A restless summer longing for wings and space to fly; visits to otherworlds beyond a mundane nine to five.
I captured the essence by surrendering to ocean tides of emotion crashing and curling over grains of insight, inspiration.

Writing Shayla’s story, “The Gifted” perhaps; a story of magic, vulnerability, finding home, of fitting into self instead of plastic molds.

Searching for golden threads that weave the words and the storyteller into cohesive completion.

Venturing beyond ego and shifting to purpose and sense of connected spirituality.

Progressing chapter by chapter into healing; month by month into the crisp awareness of fall.

Private Conversations

Sitting in a marketplace cafe' the other day, I saw a lady with worry on her face.  I couldn't help myself & started writing her thoughts as I imagined them.  I feel sure remnants of her will end up in one of my characters. 

                   She thought about her family & her to do list.
       She thought about a world that lived in harmony & focused on a slower pace.
      She thought about her kids, were they happy? Would they be? Will they always be safe?
      She thought about money and how there was never enough even though she doesn't require so much.
      Yet it bleeds, bleeds, bleeds through her palms
      Water draining in a sink.
      And she thinks about the finite time
      On this earth, in this life.
      We are all blips on a screen, some fading slowly, some bright and others hardly ever seen.
      She thinks about pain & where the energy goes
      Bleeding into the universe, starting wars.
      The sludge of unresolved fear, anger & hate
      Coils around the earth like a trail of gasoline
      Waiting for a spark.
      And she wonders why the painful auras are so much stronger than grace,
      Ecstasy lives for a moment & heartbreak doesn't erase.
      And she prays in her head, short bursts of hope in an on-going Facebook with God:
      Status:  God protect them please
      Status:  God, why?
      Status:  God, thank you
      Status:  God are you there with them?
      Status:  God, are you here with me?
      Status:  God, let me feel something else
      Status:  God, I feel you in the soft hands of a child, see you in shining eyes and landscapes, hear you in music and angel's wings.      

Nurturing the Writer Within

Did you know that stress affects short-term memory?  Knowing that now, it comes as no surprise to me that after juggling full time work @ my job & in my home, a nugget of inspiration left alone during the day becomes a ghost of a thought tickling my neurons by the time I am actually ready to sit with it & write.  I've learned that I have to carry a journal with me always to capture those fleeting thoughts that circle my brain like a whirlwind.  Yet this isn't enough.  I need to pamper my creative self through drinking in flavors of books, art, cafe's, festivals, etc. and I need to take care of the physical shell as well (an area I'm sadly lacking!).  Right now I'm thinking bubble baths and pedicures!
What do you do to nurture your writer within?

Mama Kat

I've never participated in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop but it looked like fun.  I was looking @ the list of her writing prompts & realized I could use one to help flesh out Shayla (a main character I'll refer to often I think).  Shayla is 15, homeschooled & doesn't feel like she fits as she sees everything in color (see last post).  When her best friend, Darcy, entered public school in the 8th grade, their friendship didn't survive.  Shayla can't experience normal teen activities due to her sensory overwhelm & Darcy's world no longer matches.
Following is Shayla's response to Mama Kat's prompt "I miss the friend you used to be."

           Once upon a time
             You were my childhood;
             Splashing through iridescent sprinklers
             Chasing shadows like Peter Pan
             Creating lagoons out of puddles
             Immersed in mermaid games as our
             Laughter swirled in silver currents of air

         Once upon a time
             We were sisters;
             Swapping secrets and clothes
             Whispering ghost stories and gossip
             While braiding hair and popping bubbles
             Violet webs of oneness encircled us

         Once upon a time
            Tim Burton wrote the script;
            Your button eyes averted
            Onward to shopping malls and football games
            Knotted thread spiked red binds the memory
            

Healing Crystals

One of the reasons I started this blog was to hold myself accountable to a writing project I've had on the shelf for almost a year now.  I have somewhat of an outline and backstory and two chapters written.  Along the way I've had other writing projects and put this one to the side...but Shayla, my main character, keeps whispering to me. 
I thought I would chronicle some of my process within this safe space.  An essential element of this piece revolves around healing crystals.  Honestly, I don't know a lot about them but I know that Shayla needs it.  In actuality, she needs a necklace to help protect her from some of her sensory issues and shield her from those that can feel her energy.  So, I've been reading on-line about crystals but realize that I need to go to the local holistic healing center and feel the texture and aura of crystals for myself.  I also think I need to talk to someone who believes in and uses them.  And then I think I have to design Shayla's necklace...I can see it but haven't been able to find one.  I'll post about these experiences once I have them.  However, if I had any doubt as to my direction, I drew this angel card today:

Write What You Know

"Write what you know"...professors always said this in my creative writing classes.  I remember thinking "well, that will be boring!"  I believe that I took this phrase too literally and it's taken age and experience to comprehend that this "simple" statement is actually more full-bodied than what's on the surface. 
Writing what you know means using an authentic voice, doing the research on those topics that can be researched, knowing the back story and believing in your story.  Writing what you know also means understanding your genre so Read, Read, Read.  Finally, writing what you know provides an incentive to get away from the computer, put the book down and LIVE.  We have to soak up our experiences, dare to try something new and observe all that is around us to "prime the pump" of creativity.
Would love to hear what you think!

And So It Begins

I'm excited to begin this new blog.  "Enchanted Inkdom" is what I hope to attain in this space, not a promise that I'm making!  My hope is to connect with other writers as I chronicle through this path of fiction writing.  Truthfully, I believe that we are all writers as Julia Cameron says, but I'm also a bit scared.  I write professional reports exceedingly well, I revise others' work often, I've judged writing contests for others and I've published non-fiction material.  However, I have not shared my creative writing.  It's a daunting thought to put myself out there.  So here I am, perhaps a bit of the cowardly lion peering into the blogworld behind a pseudonym.  However, I am anxious to see what bubbles up and looking forward to meeting & sharing with others!