Musings Of A Wordsmith

I do not think there are enough holidays commemorating the sacrifice of others. You may turn you mind back now to the days of the year and list of commemorative events and holidays which or may quantify as memorializing the sacrifice of others. Mother’s Day comes to mind as that has recently passed.

I still say “I do not think there are enough holidays commemorating the sacrifice of others.”

It’s not constructive to be in battle simply for the sake of being in battle. And worse it can be quite destructive. Trust me you don’t want the reputation for arguing simply to argue. Then no one will take your points seriously. Especially if they’re real good ones.

The coffee was cold, it didn’t taste particularly good when it was hot but when it was cold it tasted like cigarette ash and cinnamon. Jessica rolled the window down and held the paper cup over the street.

“I should dump you for your offense to taste buds. I should dump you for blemishing the name of coffee.”

“What are we doing Jessica?” groaned Lei from the back of the ambulance.

Jessica narrowed her eyes at the cold cup, you win. She pulled the cup back to her lips and dragged the substance down her throat pushing it past her tongue too fast to taste. It didn’t work.

For me friendship and friend are verbs not nouns. They are things we do, actions we take and manners of operation like being a Christian, Doctor, or Mother.

Friend is not a measure of time or proximity but a measure of investment and intent.

The point being, as the title implies, that we have no choice in moving forward in time (for now) but we certainly have choice in whether or not we become boring and loose the fun things in our lives. My friends recognize my childish habits and loves and where others might shame and cajole for it they feed and nurture them instead.

I have found that quite often people most need my help when I feel least capable of helping them. And sometimes it’s utterly unavoidable. If they need $10,000 and my bank account is hovering around zero I can’t do anything. But mostly I’m just tired, I’m having a bad day. I’m looking for an excuse.

“Excuses don’t help anyone, least of all you.”

That’s why it’s so important that we do not forget these catastrophe’s. We must learn from them so as not to repeat tragedy and that we honor the loss.

Reminds me of a phrase I once heard. “Our regulations are written in blood”. That all those funny little rules like “don’t transport nuclear material on school busses” exist because someone did, and people died.

So due to a series of unfortunate events, mostly my being bad at caretaking plants, I have two empty flower beds on my window sill. So I thought “what the hey” and put some birdseed in a little bowl and left it there.

It took, maybe, 2 weeks for birds to realize the seed was there, but afterwards they would show up every day for more.

Where Are You Going

When he was leaving home his father had asked, “where are you going?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked that, but something about the tone would stick in Droless memory all his life. It didn’t feel like a question, it felt like a challenge.

Childhood is FOR being weird. They’re learning how to be people, and they’re trying to have fun while doing it. Shouldn’t being people BE fun?

And if you’re lucky, that weirdness is infectious. We forget how much we can learn from children. We learn wonder, patience, magic, and how amazing the world can be when you’re just learning it all.

A place is a collection of traits and how it makes you feel. It is its colors, its size, its smell, and the homey atmosphere that invites you in, the jagged noise that hurts your ears, the aura that makes you want to leave. Too often writers forget places have an emotional component; but that is a blog for another time.

A character can be a place too, your lover can make you feel like home, for instance.

Across the world all this week and many times a year people will bend knee or lift their eyes to the sky and proclaim their devotion to … well to what? A history, an idea, a person?

In case you have wondered why, if the manuscript for these short (20K words or so) stories are completed so long ago why they have yet to see your eyes. A few reasons, mostly to do with money, scheduling editors, and all that boring logistical stuff. But also because I only want to “cut once”.

It’s still a little rough and NOT the beginning of the story so it’s not the kind of preview you’ll get when it goes up to for purchase. I thought doing this little bit extra might be fun for those of you who read the blog and are on the mailing list. Enjoy!

And when we understand this, internalize this it opens up the world to us. And allows us to open up the world too others. Too many people, particularly men, do not allow themselves the vulnerability to share such uncomplicated love outside a relationship. and worse not to accept or allow these other forms of love outside of a romantic relationship.

But I’ve been promising this story, and more, for some time so here’s my update on progress. Faith and Blood is almost ready to join the cue with Meeting of Monsters the first tale in the series.

Now I just need to refine it to the point that my editor can look at it without breaking all four of her eyes and then I can put it on the launch list.

Don’t grow up. Don’t loose magic, whimsy and fun. And most of all don’t let someone else take that from you. Certainly do not let someone else demand of you that you must. Such a person either does not understand the great benefits to your mind, body and soul for having such delight or they do and want to cripple it.

Laitha stepped forward while Michelle’s back was turned, she hesitated a moment, heart beginning to beat faster and, casually, draped an arm across Michelle’s shoulders. “You’re over thinking it.”

“I am not,” Michelle pouted. “I am thinking it the exact right amount of thinking it.”

It’s important we remember that, especially as people who benefitted from their triumphs and failures of action. We must be carful not to raise them up to some exalted status, or else we’ll never see the flaw in their being and where they could have done better.