IWSG Wednesday August

http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/

“When it don’t come easy…” Title words to one of my favorite songs by Kathy Griffin. My writing life is often this way. Lately I’ve wondered if I’ll ever really finish this novel I’ve been working on for too long now. 

“Time keeps moving from a crawl to a run…” My daily time seems to crawl and I feel I can’t lift my feet. My yearly time is running away without me. I can’t keep up.

“If you break down, I’ll drive out and find you…” So, whenever I’m trying to get my gears going again I sometimes read other writer’s books on writing and this time I chose “Zen in the Art of Writing” by Ray Bradbury.  I can’t believe I’ve only just found this book of essays. RB’s total being is consumed with writing, and the joy he finds in it almost makes me feel ashamed. Well not almost. It does. I cried.

“I don’t know nothing but that change will come…” Ashamed of my seeming cowardice, lack of enthusiasm and general grumpy complaining, got me to thinking after reading and absorbing his total commitment to his craft and his joy in that commitment, that it is far and away time for me to find my joy in writing again. Because I’ve lost it.

“You're out there walking down a highway, and all of the signs got blown away. Sometimes you wonder if you're walking in the wrong direction.” I’m walking in the wrong direction. I must find my joy again. I’m going to test RB’s advice to look inside, listen to my subconscious and remember memories. Associate words with my imagination and give in to whatever I find there.  It’s time to move and dream and find joy. It’s time to reassess, even… “When It Don’t Come Easy.”

If you care to hear the song, here it is....

Reflections on April's A to Z Blogging Challenge

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/

This is my third year participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, but the first time I think that I really understand why I do it each year. Not only for the exposure to new blogs and potential blogging buddies, but also for what I gain internally. This year I did a theme, “26 Things I Love About France.” I had no idea what a joyride this was going to be for me, to reminisce, to have other folks “traveling” along with me. I didn’t “gain” many followers that I know of, but I had more contact with myself, my memories. I had the chance to really look at how lucky I’ve been in my life and to have such an amazing stockpile of photos to sift through. I enjoyed having the folks along who chose to go with me and  to each of you, I thank you.

I learned so much on so many different blogs that my head spun, with laughter, with commiseration and sympathy, with thoughtful moments and joy. I found a cool Space/Science blog, another with the A to Z on dogbreeds, another writer posted “Twilight Zone” type short stories and another where everything he posted had to do with dreams and movies. Another one documented her ancestry/family in the past. And these are only a few of the new ones I found, not the ones I already follow from last year!

I also learned how to get my posts out (I hope) on more than one site, thanks to IWSGs Facebook page and the A to Z blogging challenge’s FBpage. I also tweeted my posts. I reposted them on my Wordpress page and Google+.   I felt more connected this time with others participating in the challenge and admire the dedication it took for all of us to do this 26 times in one month. I hope the A to Z will still be on in April next year, because I can’t wait to see what I come up with to write about, and what I might discover on the adventure that is A to Z.  A huge thank you and hug to those who found me and commented on my blog, and to those I didn’t get to, I have a year to catch up! Happy Blogging!

I also saved the blogs I’d like to revisit on Pinterest so I can go to one place and find them. That’s my new use for Pinterest (besides sharing what I like or don’t like).

 

 Images from:

www.pinterest.com

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/ 

mrs.oshimbo.com

http://dsm-publishing.com/

For Whom The Bell Tolls

“For Whom the Bell Tolls” is the title of a Bee Gee song that I had never heard until last night. My husband and I watched “Bee Gees: In Our Own Time” on Netflix and were simply and completely blown away. The documentary was filmed in 2010. Maurice Gibb died in 2003. In April this year Robin Gibb died as well. This left me to think of Barry Gibb and how he must feel, living without his hands and feet. Did it make it any easier having almost ten years between the two losses? After watching this informative and entertaining film, I was left with a profound sense of grief. So deep I can’t tell whether it’s just in empathy with the last remaining member of their group and brotherhood, or if their story has somehow tapped into some unknown grief of my own. Maybe it’s both but whatever it is, I could barely sleep last night, can hardly focus today and I NEED to be writing.  http://vimeo.com/40976233

 

 So I’m writing this to see if that will help purge some of this emotion that has me on a rollercoaster ride. I wish I could hug Barry Gibb, tell him I’m so sorry he has lost all of his younger brothers, his partners in life and music. Thank goodness he has five kids and a family who loves him. Still, after seeing what I saw in the documentary I can’t imagine what he is feeling: after seeing how incredibly linked the three older brothers were, how Barry probably doesn’t have any memories before his younger twin siblings arrived in his life. How do you live your entire life professionally and personally with brothers who have such close bonds with you and then lose both of them? After that, how do you cope? With family of course by his side I know. Still…

I know he is thankful for all that he and his brothers lived, dreamed and made together. I’m sure he is aware of knowing his brothers are always with him, but also knowing he is “alone” without them here to help shape their common music, voices, and their dreams. http://beegees.com/

So this is a tribute to The Brothers Gibb and all they gave the world and their fans. Here is a wish to Barry Gibb and his family, and to Robin and Maurice’s families that they find solace in the legacy the Bee Gee’s left to us all. For me, right now, there is no question about for whom the bell tolls. It rings loud and clear for Maurice, Robin, and Andy. I hope it waits awhile for you, Barry. Thank you Bee Gee’s. You have been a part of my life I am grateful to have had. Maybe that’s where my grief is finding purchase. It’s just so hard to say good-bye.

Photos from:

duduki.net

 last.fm

 batanga.com

 ibtimes.com

Writing and Not Writing

Lately I have been living through an experience that many have lived through before me; the decline of a beloved parent. I’ve been so occupied with this and with proving to an array of institutions that I can handle his finances in a faithful and trustworthy way, that I haven’t had much time to really think beyond my tears and my nerves much less write. Dad had a really good day yesterday. First one in ten days. This morning I woke up after a thankfully, and desperately needed, good night’s sleep to my mind having a moment of relative peace. I picked up my toothbrush to brush my teeth and found somehow that I looked into an inner mirror at myself and all these wonderful published writers that I admire and envy; their thoughts on writing and what made it work for them, and there I was. All that I am and am not. I am not famous. I do not live to write. I write to live. But I am not a work-a-holic. I am not really above average in any stretch of an imagination. I just love to write.

Between the marketing, the worrying, the not being perfect, the social networking, the trying to write in an “interesting” way, I got lost. Not lost out in the world. Lost in myself and my worries. I lost the love of the story. I lost the joy of finding a new piece to the puzzle of my story. I lost the love of putting words on paper and not worrying how good or bad or boring they are to anyone but me. I lost writing for myself and my peace of mind.

I love puzzles of many different kinds, mysteries, Sudoku, word searches, crossword; the human psyche. Part of what I love about writing is the puzzle of it, just like life, really. How do I get from point A to point B and then C? How do I complete the puzzle that is me? The fear of the unknown, of what comes after life is present right now when I look in my father’s eyes and see his need to be reassured and loved. What a massive puzzle that one is, the great unsolvable one, death and what comes next, if anything.

My dad asked me if I believed in God. I told him yes, I believe in Spirit. I don’t know if I believe in a man-like figure sitting up on a great throne somewhere in the sky, but I believe in Spirit and our connection to it and our world/universe. I don’t know if I helped him with my answer in any way, but he seemed satisfied for the moment.

Life is what I have now. Writing is what helps keep me “me.” I am blessed I can write. I am blessed to be here with my father in this time of his life and mine. I am blessed by the many challenges and joys life is offering to me right now. I will do my best to live up to all of these blessings. I am tired of my fear of failure. No one said this path of words would be smooth and straight with no uphill grades. After all, I am alive; I have written five novels so far.  I guess it’s time to forget what I might or not leave behind me when my turn comes to go. I guess all I need to do is live, and write. What comes next, well, that’s the next piece of the puzzle to find, isn’t it?

Image from:

lovelywhatevers.blogspot.com