Where Did All The Rainbows Go?

Where?

Where did all the rainbows go?
I see no more unicorns
The dragons have all flown home

Where have all the flowers gone?

I see no more colors of hope

I see only black hate and gray indifference

Where has all the crops gone

I see only empty fields

There are so many dusty fallow pastures

Where are the stars that shined so bright?

The Earth has shrunk

Down to a stone

Where does the sun hide?

At night when I am scared

During the day when I am searching for joy

Where is the moon?

During the day when I want to cry

At night to chase away the clouds

Where is all the laughter?

The playground lays silent

The crayons in the box are now all one color

Where is the music?

No notes floating along the breeze

No sound dancing in the trees

Where are all the towns?

The signs have all been pulled out

The houses all torn down

Where have all the smiles gone?

There is no softness in the eyes

There is just sorrow and contempt in your glance

Where have all the sweet words gone?

There are no loving whispers

Just angry shouts and raised fists

Where has all the love gone?

My empty hand now sits empty, cold

There is no passion in your words, your kiss

Where are all the answers?

There are just questions

There is just silence

Where?

With a key I unlock the fence

Take away the bolt

Throw open the door

Push aside the curtains

Fling open the windows

Raise my head up to the sky

Sink my knees down to the ground

Place my hand on my heart

Feel the warmth upon my face

There you are, you are not gone

You sat waiting, remaining, anticipating

For me to open and reveal the contents

Expose all the truth and the light

It was not hiding behind me

It was sitting all around me

It did not sit still

It pushed against the sides

It did not shout

It screamed in silence

It did not laugh

It cried unrestrained

It did not flinch

It stared at the reflection

It did not harm

It sat there cracked, broken

Where did all the rainbows go?

Can’t you see?

They begin with you.

Wrongful Jail Sentence for Words

"Writing is easy.  All you have to do is cross out the wrong words." - Mark Twain


That quote is definitely not as inspirational as one would think but then it has been one of those mornings where a Tuesday feels like a Monday.  I overslept by three hours so I was a bit late to work.  My car key had problems working and I then got stuck behind large construction trucks.  Of course when you are late the world doesn't open up any paths for you to get there faster.  The good news, besides the fact that I got some extra needed sleep apparently, is that I made it to work and Chapter Thirty One is now complete.  I also only have two or three more chapters until completion.


That is very exciting news for sure but there is a level of patience that writers must have throughout the whole process but I am noticing most especially at the end.  I am so close to the end that I want to just write and write and write and rush through the chapters until I see those two magical words...The End.  I have to be careful though that I do not rush the writing too much in my exuberance. The result of that is when I go back to do my edits it takes so much longer.


Now that Chapter Thirty One is written it sits and ruminates in my head for a while and I go back in that interim period and edit Chapter Thirty.  This will be a large task since Chapter Thirty was a longer chapter than others.  It is good that the chapter is put away for a bit even if it means you are writing the next chapter.  The thoughts and actions of that may continue into fresh and exciting action and progression but when you look back at a chapter that you are editing after not reviewing it for a brief period you have fresh eyes to see many of the "wrong words" as Mark Twain so eloquently stated. 


Mark Twain is right in his assessment that writing can be easy.  Anyone can be a writer.  We all sit down and write emails and letters, reports for school or even our jobs. Anyone can sit down and write a novel.  The difference is that it is not just writing; it is also editing and a very large boulder of patience.  As anyone who has read my blog can attest I have been writing this novel for a few years.  I have had periods of inactivity on it.  I have had periods like now of great inspiration.  It is not just about the writing though.  Anyone can sit down and just write.  What I am learning is that it takes writing and editing and editing and editing, a bit more writing and then back to editing.  Writing is about crossing out the wrong words.


When we are writing our pens are moving over the page so fast it seems like it would catch on fire, or in this modern world our fingers are tapping on the keyboards like a fast musical song resembling Rachamaninov.  The story is unfolding before our very eyes and our brains are click clacking, all wires inside are buzzing as we are pushing the scenarios further and further.  Yet, when we get to the end of the chapter and take a breath, maybe go back and edit the piece after a momentary interval it becomes about removing words, changing words, moving action sequences, creating a story that flows a bit better than it did when we were picturing it in our heads so that what we see in our heads translates to the reader in a smooth sequence.


Writing is easy. Editing is not difficult. But, the patience comes from the fact that we have to stop often, change what we wrote and go back to chapters we envisioned completed quickly which are now being re-worked.  I am admittedly not the most patient person.  Yet, watching the slow progression of my book as I have continued and persevered with the writing and the editing has been exciting.  Saying that I am done with Chapter Thirty One is a large accomplishment which is the reward for patience.  Our patience is rewarded because, though we have to stop and edit and reshape the mold of the story, being patient that it is not just sitting down and writing a novel quick, fast and completed, it is all part of the process.  I watch as the completed written and edited pages fill my book with a pride of ownership.  The pauses to remove the "wrong words" becomes just another part of the process.  Plus, at the end of it all, I continue to write again.


If I had to rework Mark Twain's own eloquent appraisal of writing I would say, "Writing is easy, editing is a process but it isn't a fast speed race for the sprinters and we must all learn to take the time to remove the fat from our diets if we plan on even making it to the finish line."  Sounds better than saying that any of the words were wrong like convicts that need to be jailed, maybe just a bit misguided and superfluous, but not wrong.

The Sweet Agony of Home

If I change into what you want

Will you be my home?

Am I an old soul?

Never knowing home.

Or a young one?

Never having a home.

If I let you hurt me,

Will you stay with me forever?

If I let you rape me,

Will pain be my only home?

If I cry,

Will you also weep?

If I throw out words of hate

Will your fear give me what I want?

If I laugh,

Will you feel my joy?

If I shrink down to nothing,

Will you protect me forever?

If I walk next to you,

Will you hold my hand?

If I lead

Will you follow me?

If I stumble,

Will you pick me up?

If I provide you comfort during your darkest days,

Will you leave once the sun rises again?

If I am you sun,

Will you be my Earth?

If I give you my heart,

Will you return it broken?

If I give you my mind,

Will you poison it with your venom?

If I give you my body,

Will you beat and discard it?

If I let you do all that,

Will you be my home?

If I understand your heart and your mind,

Will you use it against me?

If I accept you completely,

Will you repudiate me?

If I leave the light on,

Will you ever return to me?

If I do nothing, everything, something

Will it matter?

Looking in the mirror
No questions,
No answers,
No thoughts,
No sound.
One heartbeat.
Home

Caffeine and Absolution

 

 

I have been having a bit of trouble finding inspiration this week.  I do not want to lose the momentum I have had given that I am on Chapter Thirty One and there are only about two or three more chapters to even write for my completed novel.  Yet, for the past few days, I stare at the empty screen or re-read the last page I wrote and when I get to the end I can't continue.  I know I have to break the setting in of barren inspiration before it becomes weeks and months before I write again.  But, what do you do to find that inspiration?  That is like the sun asking, "how do I find the spring when I hate the cold weather that hides me?"

 

One of the problems is that my focus had been interrupted.  Last week I had to attend a conference for my daylight job which pays my bills.  That is necessary for me so that I can spend my time writing.  I also like the different writing skills I get from a job that deals more with the factual than the imagined.  It gives me a better resource for creating characters that are real.  As a writer attending these conferences become about the job and the work but there are also opportunities.  These opportunities are all about networking. 

 

Networking is an important aspect of being a writer.  It is not my favorite aspect, that is of course the writing.  In the modern world we live in though there are so many avenues for networking.  There are social media sites, different writing forums and websites, and of course the standard word of mouth.  That is what these conferences offer.  It is an avenue to discuss not just the important work you do normally but listen to people and let them know about the creative work you do in addition. 

 

Here are the two things that will often occur when you do this:

 

1.  You get excited discussing your characters and the story line and it is a way for you to gauge the interest others may have in your idea.  You shouldn't give the whole story away of course.  I hate it when I am watching a movie and someone does that.  If you give the whole story away why would they read the novel?  You have to discuss your story like a writer.  You have to give them a little bit, making them want more.  Pique their interest so that they become a reader and not just a listener.

 

2.  When I tell people I am a writer I usually get one question:  Will you make me a character in your book? (For those I do not know) or Am I one of the characters? (For those I do know)  This last one is often said a bit warily and with a little suspicion.  In truth, the novel I am writing may seem like you as the reader are in it.  That is what makes good and accurate writing of characters.  However, much of the personality of my characters is parts of me. 

 

As I blast through the rock and the walls of emotions and stark reality I will find a way to finish Chapter Thirty One.  After all, as Freddie Mercury sang, "The Show Must Go On."  Or, in this case the story.  And, when all else fails, channel your inner Dr. Seuss, which seems appropriate since he would have celebrated his 111th birthday yesterday. 

 

 



It may just be that I have to change the direction of my thinking.  I was thinking left and now I have to think right.  I was focused for a week on work and life responsibilities and now I have to think higher and more creative.  Ernest Hemingway and Dr. Seuss may be lofty goals to achieve for inspiration but it helps to know that even the best of writers need a bit of help and struggle through the process.

 

So, as it starts to snow AGAIN, I blast through and put my pen to paper.  Onward Chapter Thirty One! And if all else fails...just add coffee and acceptance and try again later.  Everything seems to work better with a little caffeine and a lot of absolution.