The Cave – Part Fourteen

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . .

Eve figured the stones making up the mosaic must have some sort of luminescent quality. There was a study she’d read a few years ago, about a rock that naturally glowed in the dark. What was it called? Hackmanite, that’s what the mural must be made of.

But it wasn’t complete. Eve realized this even as she stared at it. As magnificent as it was, there were stones missing, pieces of the pattern that were blank. The missing stones could have just happened over time, but the blank spots were a travesty.

How anyone could have started this masterpiece and then just abandon it before it was finished was beyond her. Why start it at all if you weren’t going to complete it? The only excuse would be if they died while working on it.

Eve glanced around at the floor of the cave but couldn’t discern anything to indicate anyone had been here before. Strange, you’d think there would be some signs. It was a mystery that had no ready solution, unless the other mosaic held a clue.

Reluctantly, she turned to look at the other mural, but shuddered and quickly turned away again. There was something about it that put her off, made her uneasy. It was like it was trying to send her a message she didn’t want to hear.

She turned back to the abstract mosaic. There was a spiral at its heart. She followed it with her eyes, down and around, spinning, sinking. She felt her consciousness opening up, drifting free. Yes, this was how is should be.

Suddenly, there was a gap in the pattern. With a gasp Eve was thrown out of her trance.

“No!”

She almost wept with disappointment. The need to finish the spiral was overwhelming, she’d been almost there. Once she made it to the center . . .

finish . . .

Eve was filled with the desire to work on the mosaic. If only she had the means.

finish . . .

Without realizing what she was doing, Eve got to her feet. “I have to finish it,” she said. “There has to be a way.”

Stepping closer to the mural, she reached out a hesitant hand. Did she dare? It took two attempts, reaching out, pulling back, before she actually made contact with the stone. A shock went up her arm.

“It’s alive,” she whispered. Then shook her head at her own foolishness. Of course it couldn’t be alive, it was rock. But it felt warm under her hand. Gently she traced the pattern in front of her. Rough, then smooth; cool, then warm. Her fingers dipped into an indentation and she frowned.

Loath to break contact with the mural, Eve looked at the ground for the missing stone. It had to be close by. Unless someone got in here and pried it off. But why would someone do that?

thief . . .

She peered closer at the wall. Yes, she could see faint scratch marks, as though someone had used a knife or something to prise it out.

Pulling back slightly, she saw that there were several missing stones, and the ones closest to her had faint scratch marks too.

unworthy . . .

A rage not her own filled her. This was intolerable! How dare someone come in here and damage something so beautiful, so, so . . .

sacred . . .

Sacred. Yes, sacred. That’s the word she was looking for. She needed to restore it, and then she’d complete it. She wouldn’t rest until she did.

yessss . . .

Reluctantly, she let her hand fall away and took a step back. The need, no, the compulsion to finish was all consuming.

Stones, she needed stones. Like the ones in her pack, she suddenly realized. Turning, she went over to her pack and upended it, coloured stones spilling over her feet. Choosing to what, in her mind, was just the right one, she took it over to the mural. Now, if she could just figure out how to make it stick.

believe . . .

Eve pressed the smooth stone into the indentation and pressed gently. There was a lick of blue light, but when she let go, the stone stayed in place.

Her eyes filled with a mad glee.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen

PAD Challenge Sampling

I was a little late joining the annual Writer's Digest PAD Challenge  this year, but I’m pretty much caught up. And I figured it was the perfect time to revive my Wednesday posts by offering a sampling of these poems.

That being said, these aren't the greatest poems I’ve ever written, but they’re better than nothing. I’m not including all of them, but I am including the prompt Writer’s Digest gave for each given day. And away we go:

1. Write an F-title poem

Foolish Thoughts

Foolish thoughts fill my head
When I’m awake, when I’m in bed
They keep me entertained, it’s true
But I’ve got other things to do.
I’d banish these thoughts if I could
It really is for my own good
But foolish thoughts will oft persist
No matter how long is my list
So work can wait another day
And foolish thoughts can have their way.

4. Write a catch up poem

Like a hamster running on its wheel
Spinning, getting nowhere fast
I fall behind, and then catch up
But it never seems to last
I fall behind, catch up again
The cycle just goes on and on
Perhaps I need a bigger push
Before the catching up is done.

8. Write a what they never tell you poem
I wrote this one while hanging out with my granddaughter, so she may have inspired it a little

They tell you
not to be in a hurry to grow up
but they never tell you why
They tell you
to mind your P’s and Q’s
but not how to deal with those who don’t
They tell you
money doesn’t grow on trees
but not where it does come from
They tell you
eating vegetables makes you strong
but not what to do with that strength
They tell you
to be kind to others
but not what to do when others aren’t kind back
They tell you
“one of these days”
but don’t tell you which one
They tell you
lots of things
but leave out a lot of things too.

9. Write a breaking poem

I stand upon the path at night
and look toward the sky
the stars are fading with their light
the moon no longer high
the water’s calm, there is no wind
as to the shore I am drawn
I face the east, I may have grinned
to watch the breaking dawn

Poetry Month

When a reader enters the pages of a book of poetry, he or she enters a world where dreams transform the past into knowledge made applicable to the present, and where visions shape the present into extraordinary possibilities for the future.
― Aberjhani

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
— Edgar Allan Poe

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
— Carl Sandburg

A good poet is someone who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms to be struck by lightning 5 or 6 times.
— Randall Jarrell

As some of you may already know, April is Poetry Month, and once again Writer’s Digest is running their annual PAD Challenge (poem a day). They provide a new poetry prompt every day for your writing pleasure. If you’d like to participate, or just learn more, go HERE

I did the PAD challenge in 2006 and had a lot of fun. This is where I was introduced to the Sestina, which set me on my path of exploration of poetry forms. One of the things I liked best about the challenge is the fact that like NaNo, there’s nothing official. So if you fall behind and have to catch up, nobody really cares.

I’ve found in the past that when I’m in a writing slump writing poetry helps pull me out again. I guess part of this is because my first serious writing was poetry. In junior high, my language arts teacher designated Fridays as “Anthology Day,” where we’d be given a prompt (a picture, a short film, an idea) and would write about it in our anthology, a special notebook designated for that alone.

The thing was, we could write whatever we wanted. It could be fiction, non-fiction, a poem, or a excerpt from someone else’s work. I only once used someone else’s work (a rather gross poem about a fly that I chose for its shock value), and once I wrote a short story. But usually I could be depended on to turn in an original poem. My teacher loved me. ;-)

Some of those poems survive to this day. Even back then I had a strong sense of rhyme and rhythm – I don’t know where I learned that from, but it was pretty much hardwired into me. I also learned to never abandon sense for rhyme, and was introduced to the wonders of the thesaurus.

Even when I began writing more prose (mostly short stories), I still wrote poetry. I wrote my first parody in high school. The assignment was to write three verses in the style of one of the masters whose work had a strong rhythm to it. I chose Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Cremation of Sam McGee and instead of three verses I rewrote the entire thing as The Refrigeration of Sam McGee.

In any case, like I said, when I’m in a writing slump I often turn to poetry to pull myself out again. So I figured I have nothing to lose and I decided to give the PAD challenge a try. I joined up a little late, but I’m only a couple of poems behind.

They’re not great poems, but they’re good enough to warrant their own category in the wordage report. AND I figure I can post a selection (or maybe all of them because they’re really short) on Wednesdays.

Look at me go – new words and a Wednesday post. It can only get better from here, right?

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Well, would you look at that. Not only did I get my blog pos back, I managed to get some poetry done. It might not be great poetry, but it’s something.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1326+726+816=2,882
Poetry - 72+40+49+55+43+65+47=375
Total words: 3,257 words

Three minute words – 93+112+92+94+114+91+88=684

Goals For Next Week:
More poetry, and maybe something else as well.

EDITING:
I’ve been working on Magickal Mayhem, bit by bit, and making steady progress. Maybe next week I’ll remember to keep track

Goal For Next Week:
Keep editing Magickal Mayhem – and anything else that happens to come my way. Hint, hint, Jamie :-).

MARKETING MONDAY:
*sigh* Nope, didn’t happen last week.

And I still haven’t heard back about anything I’ve submitted so far, not even the Toronto Star Contest. They’re supposed to make their decision by now, but I’m not finding anything on a Google search either.

Goal For Next Week:
Submit two flash stories and one poem.

TECHNO TUESDAY:
For cryin’ out loud. Seriously, I do not know what is up with me as far as the Paperwhite goes. Maybe I could start by charging the damn thing up. And just because I get the books uploaded to it doesn’t mean I have to get it all organized. Who says I have to organize it at all? I can just delete as I finish a book. I’ve got so many books in my cloud I’ll never have the time to re-read any of them. And just because I delete them off the Paperwhite doesn’t mean they’re deleted out of the cloud – unless I really want to permanently delete something. In which case I’ll just cross that bridge when I come to it.

Goal For Next Week:
Set up Paperwhite

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
By the end of the month I’m going to have 30 new poems. Wednesday seems like the perfect day to showcase some of them.

Goal For Next Week:
Catch up on the PAD challenge

CRAFTING:
Yikes! I’m behind in my crafting.

I finally have the design set for the embroidery on the granddaughter’s dress. This entailed tracing the designs onto tracing paper, and then tracing them from the back to create my own transfers. It really shouldn’t have taken this long, but I wanted to be really, really sure so I didn’t screw anything up.

Goal For Next Week:
Embroider the granddaughter’s dress – it’s supposed to be for Easter

WHAT I’M READING:
Thank goodness this slowed down a bit. I finished Key of Valour by Nora Roberts, and then read Stars of Fortune, and Bay of Sighs, and I’m almost finished Island of Glass. The good news is I have a couple of books on tap that are not Nora Roberts.

The bad news is, I ordered the next four books in the Freakin’ series by Eve Langlais, and three other kind of random paperbacks that were on a points sale with Indigo. And they’re supposed to be here by Wednesday.

Goal For Next Week:
Make an effort to keep my reading under control

GOAL REVIEW:
Well . . . some good and some bad, I guess. The new words got a boost from the poetry, so that’s a win. And I’ve been continuing my slow but steady work on Magickal Misfire as far as editing goes.

The marketing was a bust, as was Techno Tuesday. At least Poetry Wednesday is looking promising.

The crafting was a dismal failure, which is really putting me behind the eight ball for this week. And my goal to not order any more Eve Langlais books lasted a whole day. *sigh*

But if there’s an up side to not meeting my goals, it’s that it gives me something to strive for in the week ahead.

Happy writing.

The Cave – Part Thirteen

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . .

The fungus tasted only slightly better than it smelled, but if it kept her alive that was all that really mattered. Eve chewed slowly and thoroughly, washing it down with a sip from the bottle of water she was carrying. She waited a moment, just to see if there were any aftereffects, but there was no nausea, no dizziness. Relieved, she broke off another piece and ate it. It wasn’t haute cuisine, but it filled her empty stomach.

As Eve got used to the texture and taste of the fungus, she began to eat faster and faster. It really didn’t taste so bad, once you got used to it. And more importantly, it would keep her alive so she could do what she had to do.

Soon she was ripping off chunks as fast as she could, stuffing them in her face and swallowing them down. Of course she realized her mistake only seconds after the massive amount of fungus she was ingesting hit her achingly empty stomach.

Eve had just enough warning to back away and turn around before she doubled over, vomiting up the fungus she’d just eaten.

Stupid! She should have known better than to gorge herself after having done without food for so long. It was a rookie mistake, and one she didn’t intend to make again. When she was certain she’d purged everything, she rinsed her mouth out with water from her bottle, then sat with her back against the stone wall to catch her breath.

She sipped from her water bottle, giving her stomach time to settle. Eve knew it wasn’t the fungus itself that made her sick, it was the amount she ate, and the speed with which she ate it. Though it couldn’t have been more than a few days that she’d been without food, it was enough time for her stomach to start to shrink.

She was lucky she found the fungus when she did, she reminded herself. Between it and the water in the other tunnel, she had a real chance of survival.

Discretion being the better part of valor, Eve got to her feet and went back over to the fungus. She broke off a couple of large pieces, but rather than eat them right away, she decided to take them with her. She could always come back for more.

As she made her way back out to the cave, she wondered how fast fungus grew. She needed to be a little more careful, make sure her demand didn’t outstrip her supply. After all, she didn’t even know how it started growing there in the first place. It might be a fluke and once it was gone, that would be it.

There seemed to be no reason to keep going on to the cave with the paintings, so Eve retraced her steps back to the mosaic cave. Peace stole over her as she stared up at the mosaic once more. She hadn’t even realized how tense she’d become until she started to relax.

There was a roughness to the wall abutting the mural that formed a narrow ledge. Eve set her lantern on it, freeing her hands so she could sit down beside the stones spilling out of her pack. Nibbling on one of the pieces of fungus she’d brought back with her, she studied the mosaic in the soft luminosity from the light. The other mosaic, the on the opposite wall depicting an actual scene, held no appeal for her. Her attention was riveted on the abstract mosaic.

It rose and fell, dipped and swirled, the workmanship exquisite. The design seemed almost random but she was able to follow the pattern it formed. It was mesmerizing, pulsing with life. As she continued to stare at it, it began to glow.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve

Patience

Patience, persistence and perspiration make an unbeatable combination for success.
— Napoleon Hill

The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.
— Arnold H. Glasow

Only those who have patience to do simple things perfectly ever acquire the skill to do difficult things easily.
— James J. Corbett

Patience is the ability to idle your motor when you feel like stripping your gears.
— Barbara Johnson

How do you define patience? The dictionary defines it as: the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like; an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay; quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence

Earlier this week I had a blue jay in the birch tree beside the pool, asking politely for some peanuts. Okay, he was basically in the tree shrieking his fool head off, but that’s what jays do when I don’t have peanuts waiting for them. I was too lazy to take extra peanuts and seeds down to the lower patio for the birds and squirrels, so I just opened the deck door and threw a few handfuls of peanuts onto the deck.

The jay flew off of course, it always takes them a while to get used to humans again. By the time summer rolls around they’ll be waiting in the tree and I’ll be lucky to get the peanuts down before they start diving for them. In fact, I can put peanuts on the rails of the deck and they’ll come for them even if I’m sitting at the table out there.

Anyway, the jay flew off, but to my surprise I had a crow come in his place. Then he flew off and came back with a couple of buddies. Now I have a thing for crows, I find them fascinating. So naturally my first impulse was to take a picture of them. They loitered on the deck, sifting through the peanuts, as I stealthily approached with my phone.

Unfortunately, they’ve got a sixth sense or really good vision or something, because as soon as I got within range they were gone. I waited to see if they’d come back, but they didn’t. Until I sat down again.

I tried sneaking up to the door, but they flew off before I could get a shot. We played this game for about half an hour or more, before I gave up. And I swear the one that was left in the tree was laughing at my frustration. I figure it’ll take some patience, standing as close to out of sight of the door as I can manage, but eventually I’ll get a couple of decent pictures of my crows.

And then I started thinking about this in relation to my writing. Some things you just can’t rush, whether it’s taking pictures of birds or writing a story. One thing I’ve learned while working on the edits for Magickal Mayhem is that sometimes I rush the story. When you rush, you leave out details that are important for bringing your story to life.

I think a lot of this comes from focusing on flash fiction the last couple of years. With flash you don’t want to be bogged down with a lot of detail. You write in a flash, you read in a flash, hence the name. But with anything longer you want to take a little more time, have a little more patience, and include details that will make the story richer.

I need to learn some patience with my writing. It’s not a race, and I’m not under any deadline (as a rule). I need to slow it down and take my time and add some detail.

It’s always easier to cut some out than add it in. :-D

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

I did my Monday post, so there’s a few more words for the week. I’m starting to think Mondays are going to be an every other week.

As for other writing . . . it appears I’m still in my slump. I’m getting my ten-minute words done, but that’s pretty much it. The weather hasn’t exactly been conducive to creativity – grey and dismal and up and down.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1326+726+816=2,868

Total words: 2,868 words

Three minute words – 130+93+103+96+81+93+86=682

Goals For Next Week:
Write something new.

EDITING:
I had a fit when I opened up Magickal Mayhem in Word 2019 – I didn’t see the lines that attached the comments to the place in the document where they belonged. Turned out you just had to rest the cursor on the comment to see the line, but still. It makes it much easier to edit when you know where the comments go.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep editing Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
*sigh* Nope, didn’t happen last week.

And I haven’t heard back about anything I’ve submitted so far, although the Toronto Star Contest is supposed to contact the winners this month, so there’s always hope.

Goal For Next Week:
Submit two flash stories and one poem.

TECHNO TUESDAY:
I don’t know what I did on Tuesday that kept me from setting up my Paperwhite, but it didn’t get done. Again. Part of it is because I don’t want to face all those books I’ve downloaded to my Amazon cloud. With my old Kindle I could do everything on the device. With the new one I have to sign into my cloud and do my organizing online, starting over, as it were. I know it’s a pretty lame excuse as excuses go, but it’s the only one I’ve got.

However, I did manage to figure out why my printer would print from my old lap top and not the new one, and I fixed it all by myself. Does that count for techno?

Goal For Next Week:
Set up the Paperwhite

CRAFTING:
I received the new transfers I ordered, but none of them really fit with my granddaughter’s dress so there was no progress on that. I finished the baby quilt squares, and now all I have to do is put it together.

I was really jonesing for something to work on while watching night time TV last week, so I broke down and started a new afghan. This one is a hexagon shape, just one big giant hexagon, and I’m using yarn leftover from the previous afghan. At least to start with.

Goal For Next Week:
Finish baby quilt. Start the embroidery on granddaughter’s dress.

WHAT I’M READING:
Oh, boy. Did I fall off the wagon or what? I didn’t do any reading on Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens, but I did do a crap load of other reading. I started with Key of Light, by Nora Roberts, and I was making it last like I did Whiskey Beach, but then Indigo delivered the first three of the Freakin’ Shifters series by Eve Langlais, and I only meant to take a peak, but next thing you know I read Delicate Freakin’ Flower, Jealous and Freakin’, and Already Freakin’ Mated in two days. Oops! Then it was back to the Key Trilogy and I read Key of Knowledge and I’m just about done Key of Valour by Nora Roberts. No wonder I didn’t get anything else done.

My Kindle saw no action last week, but I still have Curse of Christmas: A Collection of Paranormal Holiday Stories, by assorted authors up on it.

Goal For Next Week:
Fish or cut bait with “Crawdads” so I can pass it on, and otherwise get a handle on my reading. Which means no ordering any more Eve Langlais for a while, and stay away from Nora Roberts.

GOAL REVIEW:
My goals were pretty much an abysmal failure all around last week. Partially to blame was the crappy depressing weather, the other part was my weakness when it came to reading. I really have to get to work on the granddaughter’s dress, but the daughter was pretty vague on what she wanted and I really don’t want to screw it up.

Some books are easier to binge on than others, and I did receive a few of those books in the mail last week too, so maybe it’s time to crack one of those open for reading time.

As for the writing . . . I don’t know what to tell you. The three-minute words are easy enough, but my cave story seems to be winding down. When all is said and done, it’s not a great story, but it was an unintentional serial and it is what it is. I’ll be happy when it’s done so I can move on to other things.

Happy writing.

The Cave – Part Twelve

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . .

Sara paused to take a rest. She was taking them more and more often, and every time she did it got harder to get up again.

Hunger was a dull ache inside her, an ache that rivalled the ache in her leg. She didn’t even want to think about her leg. It was enough she knew it was swollen with infection, and she was pretty sure she was running a fever.

Her thoughts drifted to Eve, and what might be happening with her. And then her thoughts just drifted away.

Sara jerked awake. How long had she slept this time? Given that she was feeling rather refreshed, it must have been a lengthy rest. A smart person would get moving while they had the energy to do so, but for some reason she lingered.

Raising her light, she checked the level of the water. It had peaked hours ago and, if she was not mistaken, it was beginning to recede.

The light flickered, then steadied again. It occurred to her that this artificial light wasn’t meant to last forever. What would happen when the battery finally ran out? She’d be left in darkness, that’s what. She stared down at the turbulent water, mesmerized. If it was receding, then it had to be going somewhere.

Sara sat back again. The way she saw it, she had two paths before her. She could keep following the ledge and hope she came to a way out before she starved to death, or she could take a swim and hope the water was draining through a way to the outside. Not great choices.

Have faith, the watcher whispered, although not loud enough for her to hear. This is your last challenge.

Sara took a large drink of water, trying to placate her empty stomach. It wasn’t fooled, but the hunger pangs did ease up a bit.

Follow the ledge, or take to the river? One thing for certain, she couldn’t just stay here indefinitely.

The ledge was probably safer, but there was no guarantee there wouldn’t be a gap in it too wide to cross, or that it might peter out altogether.

Glancing down at the water, she tried to gauge how fast it was moving. Certainly faster than she could hobble with her bad leg. She was a strong swimmer, although probably not so much in her weakened state.

Still . . . she could probably manage to stay afloat and let the current do all of the work.

Her light flickered again and she felt a chill of fear. How much worse would it be to be trapped here in the dark? The battery couldn’t last forever, it was a miracle it had lasted this long.

The thought of a quick resolution, one way or another, had a definite appeal. As for the light, she’d paid extra for it to be waterproof, she could take it with her.

She had to trust she was doing the right thing. Staring down at the water, she couldn’t hold back a shiver though. Closing her eyes briefly, she firmed her resolve and turned away to divest herself of anything that might weigh her down. The knapsack was a no-brainer.

All it held at this point were the three water bottles. Next, she sat down to remove her hiking boots. They’d only weigh her down in the water. If she made it to the outside, she’d damn well walk in bare feet. And if she didn’t, well, it hardly mattered, did it?

She didn’t for a second believe she’d be able to hang onto her light, so Sara worked the lace out of one of her boots. One end was tied to the light, and after some consideration she tied the other end to one of the belt loops of her pants.

“And now you’re just procrastinating,” she told herself. “Time to take a leap of faith.”

It wasn’t so much a leap, as an easing off the ledge and into the water. Sara gasped as the cold water struck her, then carried her away.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven

Left Behind

What good’s a life that leaves nothing behind, not a thought or a dream that might echo in time?
— Trans-Siberian Orchestra

We build our legacy piece by piece, and maybe the whole world will remember you or maybe just a couple of people, but you do what you can to make sure you're still around after you're gone.
— David Lowery

My legacy is that I stayed on course... from the beginning to the end, because I believed in something inside of me.
— Tina Turner

What will you leave behind when you’re gone?

The hubby and I had our wills finalized recently, and it’s a real process, I tell you what. Amongst a lot of crap we had to deal with was the creation of our bequest lists. These were the lists of items we want to go to specific people.

I have a lot of stuff, and I love my stuff. And I really hate the thought that no one else is going to care about my stuff like I do. That when I’m gone all this stuff I’ve lovingly collected over the years will just be disposed of without a thought to how much it meant to me.

But it’s also unreasonable to expect someone else to takeover everything. I remember when we had to go through my aunt’s house – she collected antiques, but I only saved things that had sentimental value for me. As much as I would have liked to save more, the things that meant a great deal to her, I just didn’t have the space.

So I spent a lot of time thinking about my various collections – dragons, teapots, books – and picked out a couple of items from each collection that meant the most to me. Then I thought about who might appreciate these things the most and bequeathed the items to them in my will. Now maybe this will make the beneficiaries happy, and maybe it won’t. But I’ll be dead and if they want to donate/sell their bequests that’s fine by me.

My books are still an ongoing process. I’d like the various collections to be kept together, but a lot of my books are out of date or have a limited audience. Like my reference books – I have several sets of reference books that I bought through Time/Life Books – Time Frame series (history), the Enchanted World, Mysteries of the Unknown, Planet Earth – and a couple of sets I bought at book sales. While I still find them useful – the Planet Earth series was especially helpful with my Elemental book series – most people prefer looking stuff up on the internet.

Which brings me to my writing files. My vast array of writing files, both paper and electronic. My great body of ideas and unfinished stories/novels. My unpublished works that, if printed out, could probably paper the earth. Or at least the moon. Not to brag, but a lot of this stuff shows promise and it would be a shame to let this promise go to waste. On the other hand, who’s going to finish all this if not me?

And there’s my motivation to get off my lazy butt and taking my writing seriously again. If I don’t do it, who will?

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Yes, that’s right. I skipped my Monday post again. Quite frankly, I don’t do that much (besides grocery shop) outside of the house, and my life can be somewhat uneventful. I had a bunch of routine medical appointments and no one really wants to hear about that.

As for other writing . . . it appears I’m still in my slump. I’m getting my ten-minute words done, but that’s pretty much it. I keep hoping that will change, but really, nothing’s going to change unless I just suck it up and change it.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1104+841= 1,945

Total words: 1,945 words

Three minute words – 102+113+78+77+93+92+93=648

Goals For Next Week:
Finish the Christmas story.

EDITING:
I actually did take a fresh look at Magickal Mayhem. Or maybe that’s going to be Magic and Mayhem. I haven’t decided yet. But in any case, in an effort to pare down the wordage, I cut a whole bunch of description and now it looks like I need to put at least some of it back in. It’s times like these that makes me wonder if I know what I’m doing in the first place

Goal For Next Week:
Edit Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
There are a lot of markets for flash fiction out there. And a lot of contests. And the one thing they usually have in common is they have a specific theme they’re looking for. And while it’s all well and good to have my stories categorized by length, it would be more helpful to have them categorized by subject, i.e. horror, fantasy, mythology, etc. So that’s what I’m doing

The poem I sent in last week was returned with the request for a really minor edit, which I agreed to and as far as I know it will be included in this really cool local project that I shouldn’t really talk about until it’s a done deal. And then it might be worth a post all on its own. :-)

Goal For Next Week:
Submit two stories and one poem.

TECHNO TUESDAY:
So far I have not been doing well on Techno Tuesdays. This time I had a zoom meeting with my stitchery group in the morning, and then in the afternoon I was inspired to work on my stitchery.

Goal For Next Week:
Set up Paperwhite

CRAFTING:
I am waiting for some embroidery transfers I ordered to arrive, so I’ve put the granddaughter’s dress on hold until they get here. Hopefully this week. And hopefully they’ll have something in the package that I can use on it.

When I haven’t been hitting the dollar stories and craft stores for more crafting supplies, and then organizing them so my hoard doesn’t get away from me again, I’ve been working on embroidered squares for a baby quilt.

Goal For Next Week:
Finish baby quilt. Start the embroidery on granddaughter’s dress. Figure out how to finish embroidered tote bag (that I started many years ago).

WHAT I’M READING:
I’m still reading Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens and I’ll probably stick with it until I’m done. And I confess, I read Whiskey Beach by Nora Roberts last week, but I made it last the whole week instead of a single day. So I guess that’s progress.

On the Kindle. I finished The Merman’s Kiss by Tamsin Ley and really liked it. These characters had a lot of issues to overcome, and you’re kept wondering if they’d be able to be together at all. Plus I really like the author’s take on merfolk. Now I’m working on Curse of Christmas: A Collection of Paranormal Holiday Stories, by assorted authors.

Goal For Next Week:
Finish “Crawdads” so I can pass it on, and otherwise keep taking it easy on the reading so it doesn’t take over my life.

GOAL REVIEW:
My goals always seem so reasonable, I don’t know why I have such trouble sticking to them. At least as far as the writing goals go. The crafting and reading goals seem to be doing okay, although I do spend more time on my crafting compared to anything else. But then again, I do most of my crafting (needlework mostly) in front of the TV at night. At least it keeps me away from the games.

Happy writing.