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FALL-ing Inspiration

22nd Trial: Where momentum comes from

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot: 2.5 Hours

Weekly Choice of “Tea”: Spiced Apple Cider!

Biggest Success: Chapter four is typed up and printed! Began brainstorming for chapter five

While swimming what seemed like endless laps in the pool today, I realized that chapter five is before me. My goal is within reach, however if momentum does not befriend me, chaos will ensue within the plot. Who knows where we shall be when it then all ends! And so tonight I brainstormed. To begin writing a new chapter, I need a solid scene visualized, and the already-formed story will fill around it. So far I have had events as small as a conversation around a kitchen island, or as large as the classic ‘meet-cute’ which is important to any Austenite (I would like to hereby dub that word as defining a writer that follows the happy-ending-technique of Jane Austen….and not an allotrope of iron).

I pondered this as I swam, and images/scenes flashed before me. The falling leaves that bring the new season to my doorsteps; Boo Radley sitting by pumpkins. The smell of espresso as it fills the shot glass; the warmth of a coffee mug. Flyers that litter warehouse buildings of upcoming concerts and festivals. A community play for Halloween. Whether these visions will influence the next chapter, I enjoy the endless possibilities that could take this story to its new destination. I have no other option as of right now but to play it chapter by chapter. The little sense of security that I have is more empowering than I could have thought, as the direction can change with any gust of wind.

Thank goodness for my eternal muse ❤

NODA

When a Chapter Ends

21th Trial: I have no trials pertaining to my writing, as my struggles have been solely lugging moving boxes to our new place and minimalizing my lifestyle. Live big, dream big, and apparently horde big.

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot: 0 Hours

Weekly Choice of Tea: Chamomile

Biggest Success: Beginning a new chapter! (not in my novel, though!)

I deeply apologize for not writing to you all last week, my days have not been my own! I was finally able to take a break from cleaning, packing, and moving these past couple weeks and go to the Renaissance Festival. How one day at that place can amuse and inspire!! The English accents, the royal garb, and of course, the Jousting were elements to make quite the enjoyable day. I looked at the armor they wore, and immediately remembered my tour at the Tower of London. “Yes, they made that piece larger for Henry VIII because at that time he was infested with Syphilis,” was what the tour guide said, and it was that very voice that sounded in my mind as I sat in the chilly fall weather, grinning happily into my cup of tea. The day came and went, I ate my cinnamon almonds and looked longingly at Celtic jewelry. All around me people enjoyed the fantasy of a different time, and I myself felt a shift in space and time. Not just because I was sitting next to crowns, canes, and capes, but because I am ending one chapter in my life.

Jamie and I have moved out of our apartment and in with a friend. I feel as though cleaning out the closets only gives the opportunity for something new and fresh. Boo Radley (my dog) for one, has a yard now, and a neighborhood to run amuck. One of the last thoughts as I left the apartment was that this was the start of so much, a start that is now to be carried elsewhere. I began my novel here. By those long windows the sun and trees watched the first word written, and now I will not have that comfortable space to write and create the way I did. I know that it means I will just have to find a new place, however the ending of a chapter is always to be mourned, admired, and remembered. When a chapter ends in my novel I celebrate, as if I jumped another hurdle to the finish line. I also marvel at its completion, like I never thought I would be at this place, at this time, at this new height. I am at a new place, beginning a new chapter. It’s the start of a great one, I can feel it. And it will be the beginning of chapter five. Stay tuned 🙂

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Jagger and Me

18th Trial: Time well spent is to be honored!

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot:  3 Hours

Weekly Choice of Tea: A Wisconsin Blend

Biggest Success:  A shift in Mentality

Tonight I write by candle light, with hot tea and a dog at my feet. I have lately been remiss in expressing my state of being, my true state at least. How lucky am I, to have those around me care enough to bring to light how wrong my line of thinking has been the past few blog posts? I had no idea how I came across to my readers, that calling my hours spent in writing as ‘feeble’ and a ‘failure’ were showing a state of me rejecting my own passion, and were simply depressing! Let me with haste correct my mistake! For as I am allowing the time to write waver and falter, I am writing weekly. And though it may take me longer, am I not making a dream come true? How easy is it to see small progress as small, irrelevant, and of little weight? You can now see my mistake—I am writing. I AM WRITING. I am on chapter four, and my story continues to develop.

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Look at that little squirrel taking a bath. So small, and so impact-full in its ridiculous cuteness and dependancy. The small qualities in our life fill up the time between work and obligations, and it is that that is most exciting. So consider this my turn in mentality, my shift in perspective. We all just need to perceive what is around us as out-of-this-world big, and make large what is small, make great our successes and our abilities to grow. I went to Ohio this past weekend and met that small squirrel, who I called Jagger after recently going to see the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. So much of that museum was educational, in the origins of rock and roll, in the art of Les Paul, and in how incredibly alike my Aunt Peggy reenacts Mick Jagger on stage. She has a talent I took for granted! And, Mick Jagger is English. Something more British always helps one’s perspective!

And so here I am, successfully squeezing in time to write on my drive home, and that one hour was an hour towards accomplishing my dream. There is nothing minimal or restricting in that. You go me!

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Broaden the Corners of a Story

17th Trial: Finding the focus within a story

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot:  2.5 Hours

Weekly Choice of Tea: Turmeric and Ginger

Biggest Success:  Small events will exemplify a story’s moral(s) more than the overarching storyline.

This past week passed as most do–a breath of relief followed by anticipation for another Monday. I accomplished a small portion of chapter four, and I cannot help but compare this small progress to a cat playing with a dangling toy fish. The time I dedicate to the novel seems to dangle before me, and sometimes I do catch it. Sometimes I hold on so tight to it I then release it, to see it go beyond my grasp again. I play this game until I am fed up, and the story lays forgotten for days. It’s more exhausting playing with my prey than to actually hold it captive. I find it fascinating that dreams and aspirations take the abuse of neglect quite easily. I do not blame work, as we will always work and personally I love what I do for a career. However my focus sways, and cannot stay long enough for me to spend quality time on my novel.

Undeterred, I love my project even with the shame it brings me from not working on it. I am currently watching To Kill a Mockingbird, and it is times like this that my passion dangles before me and I grow mesmirized. I am so happy to have started this journey, as if so many stories such as Harper Lee’s speak to something deep within. One scene from To Kill a Mockingbird showed me something new and interesting. It was the scene with a dog coming down the street, jumping and growling and obviously infected with Rabies. It was shot down by Atticus in the middle of the street and in the eyes of Gem and Scout. This dog has nothing to do with the overlying story, with the trial, or the play, or of tormenting Boo Radley. And yet do we not sense Atticus as the protector? Do we not see an innocent creature shot down, mirroring so much of what is to happen? There are so many additions to a story that may not seem (as when I read To Kill a Mockingbird) noteworthy in the course of a novel, but in reflection are the only things that truly put the reader in the mind-frame to accept such an ending.

I have only now to build upon that thought. How exciting, to think of small adventures that could bring light in the corners of a story, and to distract us as well as instruct us.

When I think of To Kill a Mockingbird, the first image to come to mind is a front porch swing. And naturally I see the scenery of Grove Avenue, from the porch of my aunt’s home, and I hear the creaks that come with the swing’s sway as I sit to observe it all. A front porch should do the trick for any writer’s block—if only!

When it comes to talking about To Kill a Mockingbird, I always imagine a front porch swing. I then naturally think of Grove Avenue!

When it comes to talking about To Kill a Mockingbird, I always imagine a front porch swing. I then naturally think of Grove Avenue!

A Quick Comparison

16th Trial: Connecting with my generation. I wonder what aspects of it will be displayed, as I feel so separated from it sometimes, mainly in the technology aspect of it. I did mention an iphone in Chapter three though.

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot:  1 Hour. I am getting dangerously close to doing nothing with my life

Weekly Choice of Tea: Pear and Caramel Black tea

Biggest Success:  Began Chapter Four

Lately I have found it hard to do not only my writing, but my workouts or my dedicated tea times with books. I did not even post a blog last week! For the first time in my life, I felt the weight of stress and exhaustion of my job, finances, and scheduling. Truth be told, I am very good at balancing my sanity with my interests and my outlets, and with my failure of that these past couple weeks makes me wonder if this is a normal thing people feel. Especially those with greater responsibilities–owning a practice, having children, working 4 jobs. That being said, I needed time to slow down, which entailed laying on my couch and sleeping. So nothing really got done!!!

On a similar note, I am overwhelmed with the stimulation that we go through on a daily basis. I cannot help but compare my situation to that of William Wordsworth’s. There was a man, whose study was outdoors, and had the views, the gentle creatures and insects, and the calm pace of lifestyle that had him write of only the beauty around him. I too can observe and write of the beauty that surrounds me, however how often are my thoughts on just one thing, or one view, or even one thought? I was laying in a park on the outskirts of the city, my feet in the grass and Jamie’s head on my lap. It was peaceful. I had my book beside me, but instead I wanted to channel Wordsworth and just rest my eyes on the moment. To view the trees before me and the dancing squirrels. Jamie was asleep, and Boo Radley (my dog, if you don’t remember) snoring with equal fervor. But the reality soon came upon me that my world is not conducive for peaceful observation, as William’s was. Between two trees I saw the light of an intersection turn from yellow to red. Music drifted over top from a nearby restaurant, along with the smell of food. At intervals I would hear tires screech and car horns scream their impatience. My own bag beeped from a text message that was sent to my phone.

All within seconds of each other, my mind was pulled to the idea of food, to the anxiety of rushing traffic, to the wonder at who was trying to contact me via cell phone. I am aware that I can drive hours away to reach tall mountains and find a remote place that would cut me off from such distractions–but how often am I able to do that? How often is the average person able to do that? I am having trouble with this disconnection we have to nature and self. No wonder the majority of people are on mood control medications. Alone, the struggle I had to write and work out the past two weeks makes me feel a failure in a small sense. Doesn’t the world we live in buttress this easy fall into despair?

Thus, I propose a change for myself and for ALL. Support a balance within. You have incredible potential to connect with yourself at little expense to the world you live in.

Waterfall at Cloudland Canyon

I Will Show you Fear in an Author

16th Trial:  Confidence

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot: 1 hour (oomph)

Weekly Choice of Tea: Turmeric and Ginger (see a trend?)

Biggest Success:  Purchasing Harper Lee’s latest release!

I have had a stressing and therefore indulgent week and weekend. I am no closer to catching that stray cat than I am to finishing typing up Chapter three. And as you may not yet be aware of, my system is just that:  finish a hand-written chapter and type it up. The OCD that runs rampant in my family does not allow that process to be disturbed! So tomorrow and Monday will be dedicated to checking that off my list and by mid week, chapter four will begin. I promise you that, and as this blog will therefore show my feebleness if I do not, I shan’t let you down!

I spent a wonderful day in and out of stores with Jamie and her mother yesterday, where at one point her mother curiously looked at me over a table at Barnes and Noble. To set the scene:  I had Harper Lee’s novel in my hand, “Go Set a Watchman” (which, having only one novel in my arms while moseying around that store, is a rare thing to behold). I looked back at her, my mind still engulfed by what I was currently reading.

She asked me, “What does it take to be an author?”

I am ashamed it took me so long to give her what ended up being a shoddy answer. “I mean, you have to have a natural talent for writing.” After the words came out of my mouth, I laughed and hastily added, “I mean no, you really don’t even need to have that.”

How interesting! I degraded almost every author in that store and even myself! Of course I believe you must have a natural talent for writing to be an author of novels, and most do. Even the ones with writing styles that make me want to jab a pen in my eyeball have a knack at least for storytelling. I cannot compare everyone or myself to that of Austen’s or the Brontes’ talent, because the variety and the standards are very different. However, authors that I respect and aspire to, write with the same passion and prose as those of whom set the bar (in my opinion). So was I entirely wrong in my response? Can you create a story, write about it very poorly, get it published, and be an “author”? I guess, though I am sure I will not think much of you as a talented author, but I will concede to put you in the category. I do wonder how my book will look once finished. I have no idea in what opinion I will hold it to!

I must believe that if you want to write a novel to the quality of Charlotte Bronte in the language of your generation, you can. Tap into natural abilities you may not even know you have. And then yes, anyone can be an author worth literature’s sacred regard.

“And I will show you something different from either

Your shadow at morning striding behind you

 Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

 I will show you fear in a handful of dust.” -T.S. Eliot

Manatees <3

Manatees ❤

A Weekend of English Infusion

15th Trial: I wrote very little this week. I find that I am growing in the footpaths of my family. Meaning, I am dedicating time to capturing a stray cat opposed to spending that time in other endeavors

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot: 2 hours (the cat is really, really cute)

Weekly Choice of Tea: Turmeric and Ginger

Biggest Success: FINISHING CHAPTER THREE!

It was late wednesday night when I felt the change come to my weekend’s doorstep. April, my lovely friend whose English wedding I attended a month ago, came for a visit. So naturally, it was an English-Infused weekend by association. I am friends with her, she is married to and English man–done! It was a wonderful weekend. Friday we watched Sense and Sensibility while drinking tea. Luckily too, she came bearing gifts (lucky for me, I mean). I unwrapped a book she purchased for me while she was at the Tower of London, and it is a cookbook for traditional English sandwiches, scones, and deserts that you can make for afternoon tea. And of course, a book mark with a picture of the Lakes where we were for her wedding. Both were incredibly special, and she noted inside the book certain quotes and her own sentiments on giving me inspiration for my writing. Which something more British always does!

The English essence did not end there! We went to Asheville on Saturday where I took her to a coffee shop inside a double decker bus! How on earth we have that in North Carolina is beyond me, however I am happy nonetheless.

April Robertson!

I have not spent a lot of time with my novel this past week. I knew the end of Chapter Three was near, but I had no idea how to end it. Every chapter is a story in itself. I find that I want to end each one with a sort of mystery. On that note, it is a mystery to me on how to do that adequately. There are many things that I still want to include, but as the chapter tips over the ten page line I begin to draw a line. One cannot tolerate a very long chapter. It ended with me writing a scene, pausing, and saying “yes, lets just end it there”! That then allows other ideas to spill into the next chapter, which I find comfort in knowing now what I will write about when I start chapter four this week. Cheers!

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves. It is not my nature.” -Jane Austen and April Comstock Robertson

Queen City for “Queen and Country”!

14th Trial:  Sometimes detail of the environment can be tedious, but you know it is essential and no matter how much you try, you cannot avoid it.

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot:  4  hours

Weekly Choice of Tea: Earl Grey with Spices from Biltmore Estate

Biggest Success:  Watching my first large Futbol game– Chelsea vs Paris St-Germain

Something more British came to Charlotte and I was ready for it! As you know, Charlotte is known as the queen city, and it blessed my weekend by the arrival of the Chelsea vs PSG soccer game. I had never watched a live soccer match at that level of skill, and it was incredibly fun. The crowd “oo”ed and “aww”ed with fancy foot work in unison, very polite and proper-like, much different than the belligerent noise of American Football (at least from my experience). I kept my Manchester United jersey at home out of respect for Chelsea, being a Chelsea fan for the day. I did however wear an England jersey, thinking something more British would be something more accepted! A man from Wales afterwards said that it is not proper to wear another country’s jersey, as only the English should be allowed to wear their emblems with pride. I told him to “bugger off” in an accent of course (that is a lie. I wish I did. Oh in retrospect!).

One thing that I found enjoyable as well, is the fact that many situations I find myself in can be relatable to the act of writing a novel. A soccer game, for example, shows a team on field, working in a sort of dialogue between them. Some respond to other’s passes, some miss the shot entirely, and like any antagonist, some slide tackle to gain control of the game. I have a scene currently with the main character in a large group of people. How do they all respond to each other in the room, moving with or against one another, as if the focus of the moment was a circle of people juggling a soccer ball. Even more so, the impressive foot work and moves to pass in a tight space can be strategically described in literature’s attempt to have all the character’s dance around one another with their unique attributes and abilities.

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Creating Character

13th Trial:  Social Media. I have recently acquired a smart phone to use as my main phone. Never again will this happen. I absent-mindedly pick up my phone and by the time I put it down I opened at least three apps. This is the downfall of civilization. Or a type of it for that matter. And here I am, blogging.

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot: 6.5 hours

Weekly Choice of Tea: Bombay Chai

Biggest Success: Swimming Lake Wylie without a partner (the water is dark and I can’t stop imagining snapping turtles, whether they exist in Lake Wylie or not…its scary being alone!)

This must be nothing more than a sequel to last week’s article. It has to be. I am not burdened by the struggle I imagined I would be–how to write, what to write, oh writer’s block–my nemesis! Grant it, do not suppose I am not challenged by these common obstacles. Lately, however, I am overwhelmed by the absolute quantity of material that surrounds me. Even in the discovery of new persons in my life–Charles and his trains or Brian with his solar Pyrography–I am reminded of who I have known for years. Think of all of my friends, their successes and their trials. Think of all those I have become intimate with, by sharing my emotions and my thoughts. Consider for a moment my family and their knowledge, strength, and of course quirks. I have thought a lot about those who have still such a strong hold on my heart. And even professionally and spiritually, those who have built worlds and given me motivation.

Many such people seem fragmented within me, and within my imagination. Their morals and ethics remind me of who I want to be, who I do not want to be. I am fortunate in my friendships and in those I love. For I am surrounded by a world of animation, happiness, and color. I am enjoying reading Mansfield Park, where Austen very much emphasizes a world of indulgence on one end, and a very humble, thankful meditation on the other. Fanny Price is a character in the book who is better by those in her life–the ones that tear her down and laugh at her are just as important as those who love her and protect her. The adversities and the trials I face, along with the care and sweetness of those around me, create my character, and more importantly, give my book genuine faces and realistic qualities. Here are just a couple photographs of my dear friends and family!

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A World Built on Inspiration

12th Trial: Work out, or Write? Work out, or Write? Not. Enough. Time.

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot: 2.5 hours

Weekly Choice of Tea: Turmeric and Ginger (again)

Biggest Success: Seeing the stories that surround me every day

I would like to introduce you to my very dear acquaintance, Charles. You can hardly be surprised when I tell you that writing did not fare for the better this week, but I feel so much ahead from where I was. And not because I spent the measly 2.5 hours writing, but because a character’s loose sketch within my imagination now has more defined lines and darkened shadows. In other words, a faint prospect has now a foundation and a personality. I have known Charles as a patient for some time now, an adorable older man of 89 years that always brings a smile through the doors. It wasn’t until I decided to stop by his ‘shop’ and see the model trains he always talked about, did I realize that all this time he is worth a novel in himself. I wish to introduce you to Charles, as you may all expect to see him again within the pages of my story (which again, if I have more weeks of 2.5 hours writing, none may live to see).

He has a small house for his hobby of creating a railway with moving model trains that carries loads from different parts of North Carolina. Of course, these loads and the quarries they come from have to be within your imagination, and the imagination of this place is truly to be witnessed. He began building it in 1955. He used plaster and other materials to build mountain sides; dyed fabrics to the shades of Fall’s leaves; took old photographs of his travels to Yellowstone National Park to make craters and ravines; used old cans to create bridges and openings within a mountain for the trains to pass through. All the model trains are operable, and have a destination and an origin. One weekend a month everything is unveiled, and a 24 hour functioning railway starts up where it left off last month. Charles and a work crew of about 6-7 people who have admired his work make sure the tickets accompany the trains, and that everything runs smoothly. Everything you see has been hand placed and made by Charles alone.

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Charles tells me this is his hobby. This is no more of a hobby that an artist works to create a masterpiece. Within every mapped region is Charles’ story, the places he has gone and seen and been impressed by, while the names of the women he has loved are the titles of shipping companies or furniture storage units. He says America was built on the railway. He remembers chasing trains as a young boy with his father. Charles has visited all 50 states by car, because “flying is for birds”. I am so much better for the people’s lives that I touch, because they touch mine even more. Charles is such a strong character, and he is someone you pass at a grocery store, or a man that discusses his hobby for model trains. Just look around you. The stories that surround us every single day are breathtaking.

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