Author Archive

Just a thought

“…still trying to square a circle…”

Interesting phrase, that.

Postssss

So many half-written posts sit in my upload cue.

I don’t even have time to complete a thought lately.

Hrmph.

Invictus

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Just a lyric

“I can still remember the words and what they meant, as we etched them with our fingers in years of wet cement.”

I rather like that.

Upon further review…

This schedule has left me drained, depleted. Sometimes my muse flees like a rat down dark hallways fast filling with water.

But still I manage. Ploddingly adding a word here, excising one there; editing…an excuse to flex fingers on keyboard.

And then there comes a sudden explosion of inspiration or of something very nearly so:

Rewriting the first several chapters, adding more depth, new characters emerge and demand that they be explored, explained – given stage time, the novel moves in strange new directions. My synopsis goes out the window.

Deadlines and plot be damned. The story begins to write itself; I feel more like a medium than a writer. I begin to believe that the words merely pass through me, from the aether, to you.

Yes, I know I’m weird. I’ve made peace with that.

Geno

He’s a good listener.

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On writing…

Just sayin…

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Almost

Sometimes something stays with you forever. It is always a heart-pounding, breathless, thrumming immediacy. Other things are not so powerful, they beckon only slightly, they still exist intellectually but they are now part of the background hum; filtered-out chatter. They have become nonsensical and half-real. I think of many of my posts in these terms: when I read them I can almost feel them again.

Almost.

Influx

These things I write. These emotions I have been given the gift to evoke. I have at my disposal descriptors for nearly every possible emotional-experiential influx.

I can make the words I choose become motion pictures in your minds; make every feeling so gruelingly real that you are forced to feel it. I will chain you to my muse and tied to my dream, my nightmare – you will fly and you will cry.

And the beat goes on

Once again I am drawn southward. In a matter of scant months, I will be breathing salt-tinged air.

This is good.