#Wordle 380

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New Day

Air keeps me breathing

Keeps my body on the ground

Keeps me rolling through the days.

Hot summers that wrap me in treacle

Hard to put one foot in front of the other

My mind slipping and sliding

Losing parts of myself to the heat

Can I get the missing parts back?

Or do they reform someplace far away

Making a new entity?

I have no evidence of my sudden decline

I look in the mirror and see me looking back

Memories filter through my mind like dust

Reminding me of the potential that lingers from my dreams

The hope that I will taste victory some day

With bare determination, I break myself

Free from this despondency

I am still young, I can take back some

 Of my dreams and make them real

I will start with the small ones

Take each day one step at a time

Make a list. Number one: find someone to love

With hope to be loved in return

Write that story I promised my twelve-year-old self

As I break away from the mirror, I notice a shadow move

A rush of air against my skin

A whisper of wings, an angel on my shoulder

This was the thought I carried into the new day…

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#Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge #Etheree

Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 112, “Cold & Safe,” #SynonymsOnly

 

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Cool

Blue eyes

Froze my heart

Best turn away

Leave the room intact

Icy fingers hold me

Telling me life would end here

With a raw frozen arctic love

Something from the past, still calls to me

My frozen bitter love that won’t let go…

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The demons are not just inside the machine…

 

 

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Images by Pixabay.com

 

 

It’s official, I hate my laptop. I would go so far as to say that I hate all computers. The laptop is one of those touch screen ones, and apparently, I have the wrong kind of finger. And it’s not just the one, I have tried them all. The slightest touch has things flying about all over the place, and then there are those other times when I can stab at the screen like a maniac and absolutely nothing happens.

The demon that inhabits the main computer has now moved into the laptop, doing all kinds of things that are totally out of my control. If anything finally kills my dream of being a reasonably successful author, it will be a computer of some sort. My ageing brain is no longer capable of the kind of mindless patience (or insane tolerance) that is needed to use them.

I am convinced they are here to drive us all insane, starting with me.

Just when I thought life couldn’t get any worse…

It has occurred to me that it is quite possible, or more than likely probable, that the weird things my PC has been doing of late, might just mean something is dying inside that metal box. And if I am right, this could mean it will be giving up the ghost just when it is most inconvenient. With this thought firmly lodged in my by now worrying itself into a coma brain, I toddled off to Amazon to see how much a replacement would cost. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I can get a certified refurbished Dell for literally peanuts. Windows 10, 64 bit and all the basics.

Panic over, I could handle it, whenever ‘it’ decided to reveal itself.

Now if I could just get my head around all these new improvements that are taking place at most of the sites I regularly use, there might be some danger of progress being made around here…

Once more with feeling…

For some reason that I haven’t managed to figure out yet, the muse has wandered off. I haven’t added to the word count on WIP, or written any blog posts either for what seems like a long time, but is probably only a day or two. I keep getting these blank moments and trying not to equate them to my old age or the dreaded D word. It crossed my mind that whatever is wrong with the PC might just be contagious, as I also get long periods of quiet in my head, a bit like being becalmed at sea in a boat. Not that I mind any of this weirdness, as it sure makes a change from depression…

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#Wordle 378

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Morning Walk

I follow the stream on my morning walk,

Watching it flow with ease over lumps, bumps,

And small rocks leaving patterns on its way.

I wish I had a piece of news paper in my pocket.

I would make a paper boat,

Write a message maybe, watch it sail off

I bless this boat and all who sail in her…

The crowd watching give a roaring cheer,

Calling my mind back from the fringe of my imagination.

Not before I notice, three twigs drift with the stream

Reminding me of the pooh sticks, I played with my father.

The sting of memory, of childhood, when life was easy, free flowing.

I binged on life then, these days I binge a little slower, like my stream…

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Dreaming…

 

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I have been told that thinking is a dangerous thing to do at my age.  It is possibly a dangerous thing to do at any age if you think about it, for who knows where it may lead?

I quite like thinking, and all the things that trigger it off. Like books and pictures for instance. What I could do with is some method of retaining said thoughts, as they usually evaporate like so much smoke, never to be seen again. I make notes on everything in a vain hope of remembering all the good stuff, and it works some of the time.

Then I am told ‘what do you expect, at your age?’

But this is the difficult part. My mind does not feel old, even though it seems to have more holes in it than my favourite cheese, and when I see or read something that stirs my imagination, I am back in my prime, having a sneaky feeling that this is not all there is for me.

Some of the time I must admit that I really don’t want any more, I am too tired to even consider the possibility. Then there are the other days– days when you forget just how old and how stiff you are. That you find it difficult just going to the shops and back.

Days when you choose to ignore the sands of time slipping through your fingers and find yourself considering the most amazing possibilities.

Of course, this may be what happens as you approach old age. I don’t know, I have no experience or knowledge of it, not having done it before.

But if you can think, you can dream. And if you can dream I believe you can do anything… at any age!

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This post was written back in 2013, but it happens to sum up my thoughts at the moment.

I have been struggling to write my fourth book in my crime/mystery series, PayBack. Although I am three quarters finished, the sneaky feeling that there is something wrong just won’t go away.

It gets worse.

I have been waking up in the early hours, thinking about the story. This has been going on for weeks now and last night I dreamed about it. In the dream, my hero and my villain changed places for some reason.

I wanted to know about temporary and easily changeable hair colourants. None of this made any sense to me, all my book needed, I think, is a substantial edit to tighten up the plot. But it did get me thinking.

Could my choice of villain be all wrong? This could be why my hero was a bit lack lustre too. The whole premise could be askew. Anita and I had a brainstorming session to try to make sense of it all, and although we came up with some interesting ideas, they all involved major rewriting. No mean feat when you are 60.000 words in already.

I should be feeling devastated, and not sure why I’m not. The problem may or not be sorted, but whatever happens, it is doable. So that old post was right after all. If you can dream, you can do anything…

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Chilliest Yet! #Halloween

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All Hallow’s Eve

She has diamonds in her eyes, ice in her heart

Don’t let her light in, don’t let it shine

She will steal your eyes then walk away.

On Halloween, she comes to find

The ones they took that left her blind.

A witch’s trial that went not well

Now she is back to break the spell

Of forty years that held her fast.

No mask can hide what once was hers.

Before this night is done, someone will scream

“I have no eyes with which to see”

The sons of old, they did forget

The last known witch from Salem’s lot

Did pass this way, her promise kept…

©Anita Dawes

Nosferatu…

 

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Nosferatu

Would you walk in darkness

Taste the life I lead

Would you live forever

On blood, you have received?

Would my life repulse you?

Must I let you go

Back to warm blood

The only life you know?

With love, I try to hold you

To bring you to my ways

You are the rose to my thorn

I will not throw your life away…

©Anita Dawes

More Chills for Halloween… #Poetry

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Don’t Knock

Halloween is not about children with bags of candy

Beware whose door you knock upon.

There are those who live among us

They blend in well.

On Halloween, their fear is great

The gates of Hell are open.

One hour when they can roam

Those that made it here before feel unsafe

There may come one to claim that space.

Your children play with them, you think them friends

This may be true, so please don’t knock on Mary’s door

Don’t break the spell.

New families here in town should be warned

Pass by 34 Oakland Street, leave well enough alone

Nobody knows this story to be true.

Would you knock where no lanterns light the darkened door?

Would you make the swap to save a soul from going back?

The one that stands behind you now

Will make the choice if you do not…

©Anita Dawes

Can You Write a Synopsis?

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I was looking for interesting pictures to get some inspiration for my book cover when I came across the one you see above. I think it is absolutely stunning!

Always been a big fan of cats, any cats, even the wild ferocious ones, and I think this is because they fill me with envy. They are so independently proud and free, always doing exactly what they want to do and nothing else. And we love them for it! No one ever really owns a cat. It’s probably the other way around!

Speaking about my book, I came up with an amazing idea the other day. I still have days when I am chock full of doubts and misgivings about my ability to create something that other people would want to read. And this is after writing three books!

Book number four is giving me a lot of trouble, mainly I think because my characters are not bossing me around as they normally do. The plot is a mess, and I have a sneaky feeling the POV slips a bit here and there. After almost a week of wanting to throw it away, I have managed to find a little inspiration. After all, I was an editor/proof-reader first and a good one by all accounts. And before you all rush to tell me, I know that doesn’t automatically mean  I can write anything of note myself.

I got to thinking about Anita’s books and the synopsis that each one had to have when we first started out. (An outline or summary was and still is essential if you are targeting mainstream publishers)

Creating a full two-page synopsis is very difficult, believe me, but with a lot of effort and perseverance, I managed to get quite good at it. Thing is, you normally think of a synopsis after you have written the book. At least, that is how we did it back then. It was quite a cathartic thing to do, for you knew if you had the material to make a good synopsis, the book was probably pretty good too.

So I got to thinking. What if I did a synopsis first? I already had some kind of outline in my head, even though I was convinced it had more holes in it than a string vest.
I put on my most businesslike, determined face and had a go. Several hours later a fully-fledged synopsis was born. And I liked it. Trying to mastermind the structure of my book that was still mainly in my head was enlightening, to say the least. My editor’s head took over and I was forced to confront all the weak points. (and some non-existent points too) Ideas came galloping in from the ether and I ended up feeling very optimistic about the whole thing.

So if you are filling up with self-doubt as I was, try to make a synopsis out of your ideas. You can connect with your own editor head and impress the socks off him. It worked for me and now I can move forward and stop procrastinating!

©JayeMarie