Where’d That Track Go?

Even if you are on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there.
— Will Rogers

There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk.
— Guy Gavriel Kay

We're not lost. We're just headed somewhere different.
— Emily X.R. Pan

Look for chances to take the less-traveled roads. There are no wrong turns.
— Susan Magsamen

You know, it’s really hard to get back on track when you can’t find the track. It got buried somehow, or it’s covered in weeds, or maybe it was taken out by a rock slide.

I think the train is missing too.

It doesn’t take much to throw me off my game, and last week it was a lot of little things.

There was a change in my son-in-law’s work schedule, which meant there was a change in the babysitting schedule. Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with my granddaughter. But I had my week planned around the old schedule.

And I have to I admit I was a little pre-occupied. I had car problems, it was extremely hot and humid, and I had to do some planning for a stitchery thing that’s happening today. Sounds kind of pathetic as excuses go when I lay them out like that, but it’s all I’ve got.

So here I sit on Saturday night, struggling with this post because I need to get it finished. I won’t have time to work on it in the morning (like I have in the past when I'm struggling), because I have someplace else to be.

And when I say struggling, I really mean it. I started this earlier in the day, so I had plenty of time to work on it, but I keep deleting the words as fast as I write them. I keep segueing into these whiny, angsty side stories that serve no purpose other than to let me vent and fill up the space with words.

So I have no sage-like words of wisdom for you today. No pithy comments or helpful hints. Just the observation that life is like that sometimes, and all we can do is carry on.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Still don’t have a lot to report, but at least I got all my blog posts done last week.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1,551+844+347+655=3,397
Poetry – 0

Total words: 3,397

Goals For Next Week:
Bring that total up – maybe try to add some bonus words.

EDITING:
0 pages
Due to time constraints, I did not get any editing done.

Goal For Next Week:
Get back to work on Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING:
*sigh* No Marketing, unless you count the second poem I sent to be immortalized on a picnic table, but it’s a non-paying thing.

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

TECH & TRAINING:
No training, but there was a bit of tech. The granddaughter wore me down and I signed up for Disney+. After spending a couple of frustrating hours trying to get it to stream on my Toshiba FireTV, I turned to my good friend Google and learned that only Toshiba TVs made after 2018 have whatever it needs to stream it directly. Mine is a year, maybe two, older than that.

So I bought a Roku streaming device, but I haven’t had a chance to install it yet. Maybe it’s the annoyance factor that’s holding me back.

Oh! I forgot, I leaned how to customize the cut/paste in Word so it’s less annoying. And I finally got the document settings to stay when I open a new document.

Goal For Next Week:
Set up my Roku. Keep customizing Word.

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
Totally cheated by offering a poem/form I’d done previously, but it was so long ago that probably no one remembers.

Goal For Next Week:
Find a new form to share on my Wednesday blog post.

CRAFTING:
The granddaughter and I made hedgehogs out of pinecones and felt. Hers had a pink face, but I wanted mine to look more realistic so I gave it a black face. Hers looks better. LOL

I worked a bit on the cross stitch tablecloth I picked up at the stash sale, but only a little. The rest of my crafting time was spent getting myself organized for today – I’m joining five other ladies from my stitchery guild in a sewing circle at Lang Pioneer Village as part of a living display showcasing trousseaus. I bought a pair of pillowcases to embroider.

Goal For Next Week:
Work on the cancer afghan I started before my break. Get the sewing machine working and finish my skirt and blouse.

WHAT I’M READING:
I seem to have my reading under control, only one book last week. The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper, by Phaedra Patrick, was a delightful (I was going to say charming) story of a widower who, on the anniversary of his wife’s death, decided it was finally time to deal with her belongings. Hidden in her closet he finds a gold charm bracelet he can’t recall her ever wearing. He becomes intrigued with it, and sets out to learn more about the individual charms. In the process he learns his wife had an entire life he knew nothing about.

I liked the way he forced himself to keep moving forward, even when he didn’t think he wanted to know the truth. And I loved his own personal growth. I look forward to reading more from this author.

Goal For Next Week:
Update my Goodreads account!

GOAL REVIEW:

Once again I didn’t get as much writing done as I’d hoped to, and I got no editing done. My desk needs cleaning off again because I kept printing stuff and then leaving it there instead of whatever I was supposed to do with it.

Kind of slacked off on the crafting and gardening too. I should really post a picture of how sad and pathetic my garden looks, and I have no idea why.

I have to admit, I’ve been pretty pre-occupied with the stitchery thing at Lang. I don’t know why it’s making me so nervous. I guess it’s just I’ve never done anything like it before. If you want more details about it, check tomorrow’s post on my Other Blog.

Happy writing.

The Pond - Part Two

The names for Andrei Vasiliev’s six sons were chosen with great care and ceremony. Names had power, and Andrei left nothing to chance when it came to increasing his family’s power. He told no one the name he’d chosen for his seventh son, not wishing its power diminished by having it feminized for a girl-child.

He made it clear he wanted little to do with his daughter and refused to bestow a name on her. It fell to Olga to do so and she named the child Izolda, which meant fighting the ice battle. A fitting name, as the girl was born in winter and through no fault of her own her life would be a battle.

Izolda was a quiet baby, often overlooked in her basket by the fire. Olga would often peer down at the basket only to find Izolda gazing back with her. There was such intelligence in those clear grey eyes, dark as a stormy night, that Olga would not have been surprised if the baby opened her mouth and talked.

Andrei did not trouble to ask about his daughter, as he had his sons. He wished to hear no stories of her progress, made no inquiries as to her health. Olga’s lips would tighten whenever his gaze skipped over the baby as though she didn’t exist, but she said nothing.

When Izolda was three years of age, Olga finally gave Andrei his seventh son. There was much debate as to whether a seventh son must come from an unbroken line, but in the end the men, Andrei and his brothers and uncles, decided that females, being less powerful, did not affect the line of power and that a seventh son was a seventh son. He was named Matvei, gift of God, and if the auguries preceding his birth were not altogether favorable, neither were they unfavorable.

Izolda grew to be a strong and robust child. She learned to walk and talk early, although she said little. The aunts and grannies around the fire enjoyed her company, although they all agreed she was far too solemn. She sat in her corner and listened to their gossip and stories, sitting so still they often forgot she was there. Above all else, she seemed especially interested in their kitchen magics.

When she was four she worked her first charm, a simple kitchen spell to help the bread to rise. The grannies looked on with amazement, Olga with pride. When Izolda looked up at her mother, Olga smiled.

“You did well, my daughter,” she said. “Now, take this basket and gather some beets from the garden.”

Silently, Izolda did as she was told. When she was gone, the women began to speak excitedly.

“Never have I seen such power in one so young.”

“She will one day be greater than us all.”

“You must take care that Andrei does not discover what she is capable of,” Andrei’s mother, the matriarch of the family, said.

“I do not understand,” said Olga.

“All men are fools,” the dame continued. “They believe it is only the sons who can wield great power. Male or female, it matters not. A seventh child is a seventh child, and Izolda is the seventh, keeper of the magic. Andrei must never know.”

The other grannies began to mutter amongst themselves, but they were all in agreement. Izolda’s power must remain hidden, for the good of all.

When they moved on to other topics of conversation, Izolda slipped out the door. This had been the true first magic she learned, the ability to hold so still as to become invisible. It was a lesson that would serve her well throughout her life.

Trolaan

Okay, so I’m cheating a bit here. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I didn’t get a brand new form done. I had one all picked out, but time got away from me. So I went deep into the vault and found this form, that I first explore some 13 years ago.

The Trolaan is an interesting form created by Valerie Peterson Brown. It consists of four quatrains (a stanza of four lines), with each line having a similar number of syllables. Each line of the quatrain begins with the same letter and the rhyme scheme is abab.

Starting with the second stanza you use the second letter of the first line of the first stanza to start each line of the second stanza.

On the third stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the second stanza to begin each line of the third stanza.

On the fourth stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the third stanza to begin each line of the fourth stanza.

At first glance it may seem a little complicated, but it’s really not that bad. My poem was actually based on a picture of a fallen angel, which is why it seems a little dark.


Fallen Angel

Cold wind snaking through the night
Cutting the air with a wicked knife;
Capering snowflakes, like a blight
Cover a world devoid of life.

Obsequious spirits dance and sway,
Oft cast shadows looming near,
Ousting warmth they seek to stay,
Oblivious to the dangers here.

Balefire moon shines high o’er head
Bewitching in its awesome light.
Beguiling ice is swiftly spread
Banishing dreams in a blaze of white.

Abandoned hopes lay scattered ‘round
Adorning landscapes bleak and sere;
Angel lost and gone to ground
Alone, betrayed by life and fear.

Re-charging the Batteries

Sometimes the best solution is to rest, relax and recharge. It’s hard to be your best on empty.
― Sam Glenn

If you neglect to recharge a battery, it dies. And if you run full speed ahead without stopping for water, you lose momentum to finish the race.
― Oprah Winfrey

Life is all about balance. You don’t always need to be getting stuff done. Sometimes it’s perfectly okay, and absolutely necessary, to shut down, kick back, and do nothing.
― Lori Deschene

Well. That didn’t exactly go as planned.

My plan was, I’d take July off and not worry about blogging. I had some sort of vision of using all that free time for other writerly things – finish the edits on Magickal Mayhem and maybe start the ones on Elemental Spirit, get a few blog posts written ahead of time so I don’t always feel like I’m having to catch up, get a few installments ahead in my serial story – and maybe do some non-writerly things – clean up my office and get things organized (again!), get some sewing done, get some gardening done . . .

Turns out I don’t spend all that much time blogging after all. I just feel the crunch a lot of the time because I’m a big ‘ole procrastinator who tends to leave things for the last minute. Even when I start working on a blog post the night before, it’s usually late at night so not only am I feeling the pressure, I’m feeling super tired as well.

The other part of the plan that did not go as intended, I didn’t just take a break from blogging, I ended up taking a break from all things writing-related. I wrote one poem (because I had to for the poetry group) and a few notes for the serial story, and that was it.

I think it’s important to take a break once in awhile to recharge and renew your spirit, and even though my off time didn’t go as planned, I think I needed it. I was starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the pressure of all these expectations, mostly my own, and I needed to just step back for a bit and let go.

Last time the pressure started to build up I escaped into books. This time, in the beginning at least, I escaped into my needlework. Not exactly doing all the writing I’d planned on, but still creative in its own way. And while I did read a lot, I was able to take it at a slower pace and – be still my heart – none of the books I read were by Nora Roberts!

So. I got some sewing done, it’s been way too hot to do any gardening (not that my garden is doing well anyway), and I did get some organizing done in my office. And I came back from my hiatus with my batteries charged and I’m ready to get back to work.

Going forward, I think I’m going to start looking for ways to relieve the pressure I put myself under so it doesn’t build up again. I was going to say I’d take one day a week for this, but I think scheduling time to relax would be kind of counterproductive. Instead, maybe I’ll try one guilt-free thing every day, where I indulge myself without feeling guilty – a couple of hours of reading, coffee with a friend, a walk along the waterfront . . .

Relaxing without guilt – what better way to recharge your batteries?

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

Well, really. I feel like a bit of a fraud, filling out this writing report. I’m still just getting back into the swing of things, so I don’t have all that much to report.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 553+650+182+696=2,081
Poetry – 85 (included in blog post)

Total words: 2,081

Goals For Next Week:
Bring that total up – maybe try to add some bonus words.

EDITING:
? pages
Here’s the thing. I did get some editing done on Magickal Mayhem, but it was a swath of pages, mostly done in one day, and I didn’t think to keep track of just how many. But let me assure you, progress has been made.

Goal For Next Week:
Get back to work on Magickal Mayhem.

MARKETING MONDAY:
When last I posted I’d talked about removing this from the report. I think my problem is limiting myself to one day. So maybe instead of Marketing Monday, this will just be Marketing, so I don’t feel like Mondays are the only days I can submit anything.

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

TECHNO TUESDAY:
Again, limiting myself to one day a week for all things technical may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but in practice it just doesn’t make sense. So this one will be changed to Tech & Training, because going forward I’d like to try learning something new every week.

That being said, I actually did spend time doing techy stuff while I was off, and I was forced to learn a few things. Like, Staples sucks (don’t get me started on what they put me through when I took my lap top to them to make sure it was virus free). I learned that when Lenovo pre-loads programs onto the computers you buy from them, they don’t give you product key for those products. However, it is possible to download them again. Of course re-downloading MS Office also meant I have to personalize it all over again.

Also, I’m not too thrilled McAfee right now either. My paid-for version was replaced with a trial version, and I was not able to make the stupid thing understand I was paying for it already. So when the trial ran out I ended going with a different program.

Goal For Next Week:
Learn something new. Keep customizing Word.

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
How fortunate that I had a gathering with my poet friends a couple of weeks ago. I had my poem all ready to go, I just needed to write the post about it. No, I do not consider it cheating. LOL

Goal For Next Week:
Find a new form to share on my Wednesday blog post.

CRAFTING:
Okay, it would be cheating if I went over all the crafting I did during my break, so I’ll stick to the past week. Which means I can’t talk about the sundress I took apart, made a skirt out of the bottom, and started a sleeveless blouse (which I embroidered) to go with it. And then my sewing machine broke down. *sigh*

At the end of June, my stitchery guild had a stash sale and I picked up several stitchery kits. One of them was a square tablecloth with a stamped cross stitch pattern. It had already been started, but just a small portion, so I took it with me to World Embroidery Day – an event my guild celebrated by stitching in the park. I realized that whoever started it had not followed the colour guide, so I spent most of my time picking the stitches out. That’s been an ongoing thing since, but yesterday I finished the picking and I’m ready to start stitching.

Goal For Next Week:
Work on the cancer afghan I started before my break. Get the sewing machine working and finish my skirt and blouse.

WHAT I’M READING:
OMG You have got to be kidding me! I read a bunch of books. And the worst part is, I haven’t been keeping my Goodreads account updated, so I’m going to be a couple of hours making a huge dump of books on it. Those that I can remember.

I kind of divided my time between tree books and my Kindle, and while the tree books have a physical presence for my list, I didn’t always remember to write down what I was reading on my Kindle. Oops!

Goal For Next Week:
Keep better track of books, going forward.

GOAL REVIEW:

Well, I guess the only goals I can refer back to are my expectations of what I was going to do during my hiatus. So that would be all the stuff from the beginning of this post.

While I didn’t get the writing done I’d hoped to, I did get some editing done, so there’s that at least. I got my office cleaned and kind of organized again, and I got some crafting done. Didn’t do a lot of gardening because it was too hot and there wasn’t much to do – pulled the spinach that went to seed before I could use any of it, and I’ve picked the beans twice.

All things considered . . . I’ve done worse on my goals. And I have a whole week to do better.

Happy writing.

The Pond

So . . . before I went on hiatus I started a new serial story. However, while I was on hiatus I thought a lot about this story, and the more I thought about it, the more it changed. I wanted to write a creepy tale (not sure if it will qualify as horror), basing it on a flash fiction I’d written a few years ago.

When I started this story before, I only had a vague idea of where it was going. But then one of the characters that I thought would be minor pushed their way to the forefront and informed me this was their story, and I had to agree.

The only thing the story that will be unfolding week by week has in common with the flash piece that spawned is, there’s a pond in it and a murder that starts a serious chain of events. So once again I have re-written the beginning, but this time I have a better idea of where the story is going.

Deep in the heart of the wild taiga forest in northern Russia, was a cluster of huts forming a small village. Its name was forgotten because the inhabitants of the village wished it so. They were former serfs who escaped into the forest to avoid persecution because of their magic.

The Vasiliev family was strong in magic, their women sought after for their spells and healing, the men sought after for their power. They were not leaders in their community, though they could have been had they wished it so, but they were well respected.

When Olga Vasiliev found herself with child once more, there was great rejoicing in the family. She had already borne her husband Andrei six sons and this was the much anticipated seventh son of a seventh son, whose path was laid out while he was still in the womb.

When Olga’s time came, no less than three mid-wives attended to the birth. The entire clan gathered to witness the event. Olga strained in silence, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The mid-wives found it somewhat unnerving, but she had been silent for the births of her other children as well.

The labour was not long, and in a comparatively short time, those who had the privilege of waiting outside the birthing room heard the cry of a baby. At the sound, Andrei grinned broadly.

“Listen to him. My son! He will be both robust and powerful.” Unable to wait a second longer, Andrei pushed through the crowd and opened the door to the birthing room. Olga lay back in the bed, a faint smile on her face. The three mid-wives looked startled, and almost a little fearful at his entrance.

“Let me see him, my son,” Andrei demanded.

The mid-wives exchanged worried glances and the one who was holding the baby reluctantly passed the swaddled infant over. As Andrei gazed down fondly at the newborn, the midwives slipped from the room.

“Look at him, Olga. He meets my eye fearlessly. He will wield great power.”

“Look a little closer, my love,” Olga said tiredly.

Andrei looked at her with a frown. A niggle of doubt threaded through his mind. Gently he unwrapped the baby. He looked down at the perfect infant in his hands and then up at his wife.

“What treachery is this?” he demanded.

“No treachery,” Olga said, “But also not the son you assumed.”

To give him credit, Andrei did none of the things that filled his head. Instead, he laid the baby on the bed, then turned and stormed out of the room.

“Never fear, my love,” Olga cooed, gathering her daughter into her arms. “He will get his seventh son next time. You were all for me.”

Andrei tended to forget that he was not the only one with power. Olga came from a long line of witches as well, although they preferred not to flaunt their power. It had taken very little magic to ensure she conceived a daughter instead of another son.

Though she bore them, their sons belonged to Andrei. This, their daughter, would belong only to her.

Rondel

At first glance, this 14th century French form looks fairly easy. It’s only thirteen lines, and some of those lines repeat. But it can actually be a little tricky to write.

Its basic structure is two quatrains (four-line stanzas), followed by a quintet (five-line stanza). The first and second lines are repeated as a refrain at the end of the second stanza, and the first line is repeated as the refrain for the last stanza.

Got that? The rhyme scheme is ABba abAB abbaA, where the capital letters are the repeating lines.

This form might be easier to follow with an example:


Measuring Time

This is how we measure time –
Day by day, a lifetime passing,
Slowly good and bad amassing
Memories sounding like a chime.

Then life will take the steeper climb
And then we fall, our ego crashing;
This is how we measure time –
Day by day, a lifetime passing.

And after we have passed our prime,
Looking back, we start rehashing;
Memories, good and bad, start clashing,
Sins and virtues – life refined.
This is how we measure time.

Ready or Not

I’m baaaaccck.

As much as I would have liked to take the rest of the summer off as well, I figured if I did that I might not ever get back to blogging. So ready or not, here I am.

You might have noticed I’m posting this on Monday rather than my typical Sunday, but that’s because Sundays are reserved for my Wordage Report, and I really don’t have many words to show for my absence. In fact, other than a single poem (approximately 13 lines) I didn’t really write any words at all (other than my daily journal, which doesn’t count). I did do some editing, but all in one creative burst that lasted a single day.

So what have I been doing?

I spent more time with my granddaughter, but not every day and not every week. Her parents’ work shifts overlap, and her mother’s been taking Fridays off, so I still have plenty of free time. I did some reading, but not the binge reading I was doing before, and not Nora Roberts. I did a lot of craftwork – quilting, embroidery, and sewing. I cleaned up my office (again) and in the process broke my CD player (which has since been replaced with a boom box – gotta have my tunes).

I did some research for my new on-line serial, which I’m trying to plot out a bit before I re-start it. It is not, as I’d planned, going to be a more detailed version of a short story (long flash story?) I wrote a few years back. One of the characters, who I thought was just going to be a minor one, pushed her way to the forefront and said, “Hey, this is my story!” So I thought about it for a bit and decided yes, it really was.

And I’ve spent a great deal of time dealing with computer issues. As you may recall, I went on this hiatus in the first place because of a computer scam. Not only did the bank require us to close our current accounts and open new ones (and wasn’t that fun, not!) I had to take my computer in to have it checked out and get a certificate stating it was clean.

There not being a lot of choices in our small town, and time being of the essence, I took it to Staples. They told me the process would take a couple of days, at which point I became so frustrated that I put up my notifications and took my blogging break.

They checked it for viruses, and then they reformatted it just to be sure it was safe. And that’s where my frustration really began. Remember how I was proud I didn’t have my Lenovo synced with my other devices? Well I know they at least synced my bookmarks because the first time I opened a browser I couldn’t help but notice I had all the bookmarks from the Apache on there was well. But wait, that was just the tip of the iceberg.

My settings were all wrong on the Lenovo. My paid for version of Office 2019 had been replaced with some Microsoft wannabe program that looks similar, but is nothing like my old one. My paid for version of McAfee was replaced with a trial version (that’s just run out). To say I was not a happy camper would be an understatement.

I’ve got most of my settings where I want them, and I managed to figure out how to get my MS Office back – it came pre-loaded so I had to go through Lenovo for it – and while I can get into my McAfee account, I can’t seem to get it to download again. I might have to download a free virus protection until I figure this out.

But . . . for all intents and purposes, I’m back now.