Blair Mirth

Cooking With Curtis Stone

2010-07-14T12:55:00.000-07:00

I have decided as part of the prompt for Creative Everyday- Life. I am going to share with you all a recipe I am trying and journal about how it works out for me. To me food and passion if life and I am learning to cook new recipies. Tonight I will be trying: Penne with Vegies and Pumkin Sauce.

Here is the recipe according to Curtis stone.

Curtis' penne with vegies and pumpkin sauce

Ingredients

2 tbsp olive oil, from pantry
½ medium red onion, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
550 g diced Kent pumpkin, skin removed
1 Massel chicken stock cube, to make 2 cups chicken stock
300 g Coles penne pasta
1 red onion, thinly sliced (extra)
200 g punnet Cup mushrooms, sliced
75 g snow peas, ends trimmed and cut in half diagonally
⅓ cup Farmers Union Greek style natural yoghurt

Method

1
Heat a large frying pan over medium high heat. Add half the oil and cook the onion for 2 minutes stirring often, then add 2 cloves of the chopped garlic and the pumpkin and cook for 1 minute. Add the stock to the pan and bring to the simmer, reduce heat, cover and simmer gently for 20 minutes or until the pumpkin is soft.
2
Remove the pan from the heat, reserve ½ cup of the cooking liquid and pureé the pumpkin with the remaining cooking liquid in a blender until smooth. (Thin out with a little of the reserved cooking liquid if too thick). Season to taste with salt and pepper.
3
Cook the pasta according to packet directions.
4
While the pasta is cooking, heat a large frying pan over medium heat. Add the remaining oil to the pan and cook the extra onion for 2 minutes stirring often. Add the remaining garlic to the pan and continue cooking for an extra 1 minute. Add the mushrooms and cook for 1 minute. Add the snow peas, then add the sauce to the pan and mix well.
5
Toss the pasta with the vegetables and sauce stirring over medium heat, add the yoghurt then season to taste with salt and pepper. Divide the pasta evenly between 4 warm pasta bowls.

* * *

I will follow up with aJournal entry on how it went in the evening

* * *

Blissful Passion

2010-06-07T01:06:00.001-07:00

This month we are talking about bliss. What is bliss? What it means to be in bliss? What creates bliss? And how can we share bliss with the world around us through creative art?

To me it isn't about defining what bliss means to me through words, but through actions. For me bliss is to live life doing the things that I love to do, that I am passionate about and live for. I can't sit down and write about every thing that brings me bliss because it might not be the same tomorrow, but there are some things in my life that I've neglected that give me bliss and I have started to find my way home to them.

So this month I kick started my journey towards a more blissful, creative existence by searching within me and asking myself- what is another thing that brings me happiness aside from writing that is creative? The answer was Scrapbooking.

I started it in high school and it used to be something my best friend and I would do even at school. I recalled sitting in the metal words room leafing through the magazine and late nights when I was meant to be sleeping, sitting at the desk my parents had brought me, scrapping away till 4 am where I'd have 2 hours to sleep before I had to be up for school.

I remembered the love I had for the craft. The passion for the vibrancy, the shades and colours, the products and memories. I remembered the process of choosing just the right colours, photos and embellishments to make the most out of my layout and I could never forget the exhaustion and satisfaction I felt when I completed an album.

So when my mum arrived bringing me all my old supplies I fell in love with the craft again and decided to follow my instincts and follow my passion for Scrapbooking.

This week I have completed two pages. One I have titled – 'Happiness', the other ' With Love'. I will post the second one later on in the month along with any other layouts I complete.

Happiness is my first layout in at least three years. I am proud of it, and while it may look a little plain I found it to be a joy to work on something small to start of with. The best part is that it appears to have one photo on it, when in fact it has two. The other is hidden under the first, but can be seen if I choose to let anyone see it.

Creative Every Day - May 11th

2010-05-11T06:42:00.000-07:00

I have been working on some stories. Last night an idea came to me, and while I am not in favor of heavy dialogue, I still wrote nearly 800 words, and for this I am happy. Well I wrote more than that because I also wrote some Gay erotica Lit, but It still needs a little work before I post it.

Demon Radio

“A Demon?” I asked, staring at my friend as she recalled the nights events in unfathomable detail.

I picked up the pink oink menu and dragging my nails down the studded binder. My stomach was growing heavy, full of caffeine and growling for a hot cooked meal. I'd made my decision three times over and still the electric blond barbie in the tattered pink apron mooning over Cheshire still hadn't bothered to take our orders.

“Yes, a Demon. It knocked on the front door asking if it could use our phone, and when my mum asked why it disappeared, just vanished. At first I thought she'd taken to many pills, but then I realised I had seen and heard it too. So it had to be real.”

I followed the lines of the waitress's dress, watching the frills move each way she skated. She wasn't my type. I wasn't into lipstick ladies, nor was I into bad ass butches, but something caught my eye. A tattoo above her ankle. I'd seen it before, but couldn't remember where.

“I can't figure out what it wanted through. I mean obviously it wanted my mum otherwise it wouldn't have come to our house. Right?”

I shook my head, unable to believe a word Sarah was saying, but willing to listen because I always had. Ghost I believed in, Angels too, but demons? I believed that the world was a weird and wonderful place, but demons? There could be no such thing.

“Are you sure you're mum hasn't been taking anything you don't know about? I've heard some medication can cause you to hallucinate. Maybe that's all it was,” I said, making matters worse. I copped an penetrating glare that caused me to wriggle in my seat, and made note not to offend her any further than I had to.

“She was not hallucinating Amy. I heard the knocking and I saw it too, the Demon. It stood there staring at my mum with a vague expression and then, it disappeared. The same way a ghost would, only this wasn't transparent.”

“See, that's probably all it was. Your typical nightmare Casper. Ghost aren't always transparent Sarah. Haven't you watched Supernatural?” I asked, recalling the series by brother had brought me for my birthday.

“Some are solid and some aren't. Most aren't solid, but you van get the occasional one that if you looked twice you could swear it was as real as a human.”

Sarah sighed.

“Yes. If you recall when it first came out you and I used to watch it together, and they made it perfectly real that demons existed. Come on Amy. If you believe in ghosts, why don't you believe me? I'm telling the truth.”

I took Sarah's hands in mine and held them close to my heart. We'd been sitting in the same booth for over an hour and still we hadn't been serviced. Not even by the pimply ginger nut slaving over the counter. I was beginning to loose my patience, and I didn't want to take my hunger or frustration out on her.

“I don't doubt for one second that you're not telling me the truth, but I don't believe in demons. I believe that there are spirits and just like humans there are negative and positive ones. It was most likely a child suffering in limbo looking for his mother. It mistook yours for his by mistake.”

Sarah shook my hands away and reached for the menu, scanning it for the seventeenth time since we arrived. She took a sip of her warm water and wiped her chin attempting with all her positive strength not to look me at me.

“Look, Sarah, what do you say we get out of here and go somewhere with better service? I'm starved. I promise after we have breakfast I'll come take a look at your house and see if I can get a reading.”

Sarah looked up, a soft smile highlighting her crooked frown. She could never stay angry with me for more than five minutes.

“What do you mean? Don't tell me you've got one of those dodgy detectors,” she laughed, throwing her menu onto the table and reaching for her jacket that hung over the wobbly seat.

I nodded, smiling sheepishly and grabbed my keys, draining the last of water jug.

“My brother got a good deal on Ebay. Four for the price of two.It it came with a reader. Whether it works or not is another question entirely. But we've got nothing better to do. So I don't see why we can't have some fun.

Creative Every Day - May 8th

2010-05-08T04:24:00.000-07:00

This past week has been a long and tiresome journey of train tickets and shopping. From sleeping all day and through the night, to not sleeping at all. I am fairly sick, but I still managed to get in some creativity in the past few days which I hope will make up for my lack of brain power and general lethargic state.

The following are a list of tools for the cards I made, and an exercise from a book called “The 3 A.M EPIPHANY- By Brian Kiteley. As well as writing and crafting I have done a few rows in my knitting on both my purple and blue scarf.

Imagine
Tools:
Card paper
Inspire Rub-Ons
sketch book paper
pattern card [I used the back of the card packet]

Inspire

Tools:
Card Paper
Creative Flower Embellishments [pink]
Creative Alphabet Embellishments [Pink]
Wrapping paper [left over from a gift]

Faith

Tools:
Card
Creative Flower Embellishments [Pink]
Creative Butterfly Embellishments [Purple]
Inspiration Rub-ons
Sketch book paper

*Journal Prompt -Reluctant- Use [I, Me , My only twice]. Word count: 600 words *

The sun rose early in the morning, far earlier than anyone in my neighbourhood dared to witness. It's blood-red radiance blinded the early morning walkers, tracking their paths along the mud stained roads of the development estate.

In the winter the cold chill travelled from distant mountain tops through the suburbs. Each burst of wind wrapped itself around everyone daring enough to step into it's direct path, and carried them into the land of alertness of the day that await ahead.

It was a warriors journey into the city where the hustle and bustle was nothing more than white noise against a silent backdrop. It was the city of hope and desperation. No one wanted to take in the beauty that could be heard in the small talk and diverse engines that hummed a lullaby as they polluted the idea with toxic fumes.

On the hill overlooking the estate, a camphor tree stood aging. It stared down at the little people waiting for the comforting heat of the morning buses. It swayed, laughing silently, content in it's coat of luscious foliage and small inedible nuts that were it's all seeing eyes.

Many drifting morning eyes had diverted their attention to the untamed hill. Wandering with their imagination across the only piece of land the development agency couldn't get their hands on. Most had succumb to believing the stories of the tree whispers and the haunted farm stead that was left in ruins behind the hill. No one knew the truth, and all were too scared to challenge nature.

When the buses began to transport people away from the small inner village, I walked through the broken fences and across the rusty autumn foliage to the construction houses in progress.

To my left, a small childish fire rose from a stack of scrap wood the builders had thrown into a mesh circle to keep the chips from escaping. The men stood around, hands out-stretched and laughing along with the crude radio host who was cracking sexist jokes to please consumers.

A gust of wind carried a handful of ashes across the sandy road, along with the lingering scent of freshly sanded wood and burning metal. The noise of the power drills and nail guns blocked out the immaturity of society's future, and began to sound more like the farm with each step taken.

Over the view of the double story houses and their complex, designer roofs the monster tree stared down at the workers beneath the hills, and smiled, hushing a soft song into the air. It was a haunting melody. One that made every hair on the body stand to attention.

It had caused many people nightmares, and more lore stories about the spirit of the tree walking in the night whispering to children and urging them to act on mischief. Even in the day light it was a frightening tune.

“Hey, are you lost sweetheart?” a worker called out, wolf whistling.

Ignoring his calling, I kept walking in the direction of the bus stop. It wouldn't take long to get to the mountains, following the dirt path that lead to the curve at the bottom of the hill would be the best choice.

“Have you got some important place to go girl,” a hefty man wearing a fluorescent coat asked, holding his hand out to halt.

“What business is it to you?”

The man scoffed, pressing his hand firmer against my chest.

Who did he think he was? The man certainly had a God like complex. It seemed in this lifetime it was the only kind of men women ever had the pleasure of interacting with, and this was our strongest downfall.

Photos later I hope.

Creative Every Day- May 4th

2010-05-04T09:19:00.001-07:00

With no sleep. Loads of meetings and stress about money- what is a nineteen year old girl to do?
Create Every Day- That's what.

I have been a little slow on that part. Mostly because I am sleeping between medication for my tooth and out most of the day. However I have been looking around the shops and I picked myself up some stunning wool that made my drool. I wanted all of them, the colors- oh the colors. I don't think a photograph could even do it justice, but I am damn sure gunna try to take one to show you guys how beautiful it is.

To match it I got myself some electric blue knitting needles. These were to cute and matched the them of blue I am going with. [I think I have changed my fetish for purple for blue- meh it happens] So what I do hope is to start knitting another scarf, this time I am going with maybe 10-15 instead of 3o. I want it to be a quick project.

The plain wool is called ' Rockback' while the beautiful shaded blue is called 'Langtree'. [Again sorry my camera does not do it justice. It really pisses me of.

As well as thinking, planning and salivating over delicious wool, I am planning on working on either a card or a bookmark. I am wanting to paint it with my old acrylic paints and stick these cute little paper butterflies to it. I think it will be nice to branch out into different arts and my intuition seems to want me to follow the path of blue this month.

I also am working on a rather depressing poem called ' Handful of Angels'

Handfuls of pills fall like rain drops from the sky

Classical, they sing me a whimsical lullaby

Hushing the day into a drowning black night

Forcing the Angels to fall from great height

Faster than lightening, a comet, a lonely star

They're crashing and falling, marking a scar

Another handful are taken to down with a drink

While I wait quietly suffering, no thoughts left to think.

I force away greatness, a soul full of mirth

Giving away to the darkness that produces this birth

It's a one way ticket to a land under hell's ground

The truth isn't spoken, on earth it will be found

There is no light above us, no heaven or Lord

Darkness surrounds us in an incredible force

Will you succumb to the wrong chance?

Or will you take hope in a rightful romance?

Handfuls of pills seep into my core

If I'm sleeping, no waking, what more can I ask for?

Creative Every Day- May 2nd

2010-05-02T07:10:00.000-07:00

While I did not complete much in the means of art, I did manage to make myself happy my knitting until sunrise, and I think I managed to complete a lot. I had a few minor hiccups which really got to me, but I decided that this is a practice scarf and Daniel said he would wear it even if it had holes and lines. Btw it hasn't any holes yet *smiles*

It is going to be a thick scarf.

Creative Every Day - May 2nd

2010-05-01T11:48:00.000-07:00

Creative Every Day - May 2^nd

I trusted my intuition today and it lead me to a blog that has not only inspired me to start re-opening my passion for a lot of different crafts, but has inspired me to knit again.

http://lookingforroots.wordpress.com/

A hobby of mine I have tried of and on since I was fourteen.

Today I trusted my heart and my mind. I let the yarn come to me, speak to me. Of course I could not resist to begin with my favourite colour- purple. So I got two types of yarn. One a soft 8ply wool, and the other a softer, fluffy wool. I decided to start with the 8ply first and see what comes of it.

The best part of the experience of knitting again was that I had to learn to cast on myself, as any other time I have always asked my Nanna Margaret or Mum to cast on and get me started. I did use some visual tutorials online, but none were working, until I found this one:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-3319901922819400872#

I watched the video a few times and would you believe it the only part I took in was the loop. The rest I had to work out for myself. After several failed attempts, I discovered I wasn't leaving enough room for tension, and was wrapping the wool around my fingers wrong. So I worked at it [despite my young cat wanting to play with it] and managed to be fairly productive in working on the scarf I am making for my partner.

So in light of my new creation. I decided to write a little creative poem to match.

Walking along the shelves

I see the diverse colours of inspiration

Calling out to me, beckoning me

Too many choices to taste

I lick my lips, running fingers along them

Each texture makes my heart leap

Onto the next line of needles

I pick my arsenal, exploding with joy

If I had an endless bag to carry

I would fill it with balls of passion

Casting each row in the delights of lust

This experience that warms my soul

Btw sorry for the shitty picture. I will take a better one during the day. I followed my intuition to write this journal entry though.

May 1st - Journaling Prompts 1&2

2010-04-30T10:28:00.001-07:00

Part of my plan to be creative everyday means using some Creative Journaling prompts daily.

It is difficult for me to use the prompts suggested on this site and so many others that take a look at me personally in so many ways. I think in the past few years I have lost my passion for journaling and suppressed the side of me that loves delving into the lives of my characters and even into my own deeper mind.

Here is a link to the site I am using for inspiration:

http://journalingprompts.com/

Each day you are given a small prompt to work on. Since April 30th, and May 1st fell so close to me learning more about the Creative Every Day project I decided to make one post.

BTW- In Australia is is May 1st

***

List three negative situations you can endure that you think will strengthen your character.

1. Monogamy

In my experience I never wanted to be a one man woman, but through the men and women I have met, I believe their different ideals and choices for open relationships showed me what love there can be in a monogamous partnership.

Learning this has strengthened my values in my relationship with Daniel, and made me a stronger person in supporting and fighting with my man.

2. Spiritual Perception

Although I hate it, and I know it stems from fear, I believe knowing what is out there and experiencing the good and bad side of the unknown is something to grow with and learn from.

It lets me challenge myself to absorb knowledge and find my own path of beliefs.

It gives me ideas to expand on and hope that one day I can be apart of something beyond myself.

Feeling and sensing at even the worst of times has allowed me to come to terms with the idea that we are not alone in this world or the next.

I can be strong and make my loved ones proud of me, both deceased and living.

3. Depression

In my view I suffer from depression, it is still to be medically decided.

I know how I feel. I believe that recovering from depression and fighting through the struggle strengthens my will to do well in life and live passionately.

I know in my darkest hours it is so easy to fall into the downward spiral, especially when in pain [mental pain is the worst], but from the terrifying and insane moments, works of art and self progression can bloom and foster into many inspirational stems and choices to follow in the journey of my life.

Each step into healthy thinking, and positivity us another step towards self-success.

Depression has show me that you don't have to be someone you don't want to be, and if you can come out from the other side, like so many before me have, there are always ways to change your pattern of thinking and to make a life you want, that is yours outside the iron walls.

* * *

How tenacious do you think you are when trying to achieve a goal? What factors influence how persistent you are?

It depends solely on the goal I am trying to achieve. For instance, house work is a goal in progress. Shopping, read and writing are goals in progression.

It also depends on how passionate I am about the goal, and my mood at the time. Sometimes, smaller goals like looking after my health take more persistence, than working on a project or shopping for groceries or luxury items.

A goal to me, has a journey to travel with it.

The goals that I find influence my daily actions and how they turn out are the more complex ones. Ones that should come naturally.

Usually to be persistent I need guidance. This can come in many forms, the most popular being lists. I like to keep lists because they keep me dedicated and on track of my goals [however easy or difficult they are.]

I tend to give up on a lot of goals and challenges because of my self doubt to complete anything, which makes reaching the target of my goal a much longer journey. Even at the best of times.

I like to complete my goals, so I continue to make more and follow the path of my journey. I hate unfinished projects, blank pages and lingering goals.

Creative Every Day - May 1st

2010-04-30T08:06:00.000-07:00

Two Halves of the Earth

The rainbows spew from an open earth

Wide arms stretch out with dark mirth

An epic smile written on a soulless face

Where dreams are scattered without a trace.

I opened my eyes in the dimming light

Books piled high to shield my fright

Tossing in a sea made of winter sheets

Suffocating beneath the pillows heat

A purple light surrounds my bed

I'm softly speaking with the dead

Unknown to me is what they seek

What words of guidance can they speak

I roll myself into a tight cocoon

Begging that they'll leave me soon

I am not the saviour they wish me to be

They're feeding on my fear to see

The earth is slowly breaking into halves

Wide spread arms awaiting chosen paths

A shadow waiting on the bend

Of nightmares, dream scapes and revenge

***

Hopefully I will have an attempt at artwork to post to compliment this poem

***

Me - Half Australian- Greek

2010-02-19T02:51:00.000-08:00

Little Avalon - My new Kitten

2010-02-16T03:39:00.000-08:00

My Notebooks

2009-09-18T20:45:00.000-07:00

My notebook: This is my main notebook. It is called my everything book; because it is just that. In between these pages I can escape with my ideas, fragments, fantasies, needs and desires. Anytime, anywhere I like. To me this notebook is an important part of me being a writer. It is my one true release above everything else.

The Beautiful Pages of my notebook.

These are my three main notebooks, though the middle is hard to write in, due to the paper. To the left; my main notebook [My life.] Middle; my daily journal. Right; my little black book where ideas are jotted when I don't have my other books or late at night. It sits beside my lamp on my bedside table and often hides in my writers bag.

My Writing Desk September

2009-09-18T20:33:00.000-07:00

As always I like to showcase my writing desk that changes every month. Right now my writing desk is a little fold away table - (That never is folded away) -This is where I am trying to do all my handwritten writing, planning, outlining. I am also using my computer desk, but it has not changed much & sometimes I even write on my bed. As you can see it is neat and fairly organized.

[This picture was taken after I finished working on character outlines. Hense the cluttered pile of pens.

A Room Without Books.

2009-09-18T20:13:00.000-07:00

Birds Eye View

Top shelf

Second Top Shelf

Middle Shelf

Horizontal View

Front View

My Empty Bookcase [SHOCK]

Bottom Shelf

Bookshelf : Before cleaning

Ass View

My Books

I must admit these photographs don't do my collection justice, but it is a fair idea of how many unread books I own & Keep collecting.

I thought, upon doing my spring cleaning I might give you a peek into my passion : Books.

My writing Desk In August

2009-08-28T06:05:00.001-07:00

Success In Saying NO !!!

2009-07-11T08:20:00.000-07:00

What I find most hilarious about the matter of finishing my series. Is that I said to myself I could have a certain number of days to prepare, and I got right stuck into finishing part [4] of my Sugar Rush Fan-Fiction.

Best part of the whole evening : Finishing Three pages only to realize the series could potentially end at part [4.] I am going to give it until Monday to decide. I may write an optional part [5.] Meaning I will write a part [5] for the satisfaction of following through plans- but I may not include it in the episode.

Worst part of the whole evening: Writing with a Gray Lead pencil. I really hate having to sharpen those things. Pens are so much easier, and less likely to smudge. So that is a lesson learned. NEVER use Gray lead when writing series.

So that is a little recap of my evening.
I have done well so far.
I will fill you in on my progress, and decision when I have decided.

Now of to scan Google for inspiration.

Cheers ;]
Blair

First Days - Preparation

2009-07-11T05:14:00.000-07:00

First days are always hard when starting something new. I will say this time, and time again.

In my case I am going to be starting a workshop for writing where a mission piece is written every day – In my case, until I finish all my short story series & my novel- 'The Apparition Man.'

Today was about organizing what I wanted to write this month [July.] My two primary projects this month are finishing my Fan-Fiction series – Twilight & Sugar Rush [Lesbian.]

I only need to finish both series this month. Nothing else. No stress to produce anything other than what I am working on, and if inspiration strikes for something else I will take notes. So in a lot of ways this method might teach me a few things.

In preparing for my first series to embark [Sugar Rush on I spent the day finding picture galleries for inspiration, and re-reading the previous entries I had already written for it. In this series each part is like another part to an episode. This episode I started back in 2008 is called ' Eye Candy.'

In preparation, I also read more of Living the Writer's Life to get a feel for what he is asking for when he speaks of his Workshop, and more chapters which discussed each individual theme in a writers life.

Today my main aim was to be ready for this coming Monday when I plan to start working on finishing the series. There are two parts left to finish in this series, scoping anywhere between 1-3 pages long. With Part [4] already plotted, I don't think I shall have any trouble when it comes to producing each part.

Tonight my goal is to finish gathering pictures, and other necessary media so that when tomorrow comes I will be able to finalize my plans for the rest of the series.

All in all I do believe it was a productive day.

The main thing to remember is a mission piece is scoped over the whole day.

The day is dedicated to one piece, and one piece alone.

Wish me luck ;]

Cheers, Blair

The Ever Changing Writing Desk

2009-07-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

Some thing old & something new - I spent time organizing my writing & making schedules.

This is where every little scrap of material now goes.

You can NEVER have enough storage space for supplies.

My current situation with space has left me cluttering things everywhere. Now- I love where they are all cluttered & inspirational - I can't move them. [Observe the reading list]

The gracious desk itself - If you can make out the folder on the wall that is my interconnecting web of characters and situations in my vast, and never ending novel - The Apparition Man.'

Pens, Stationary & Electronics - You can't go wrong

-THE EVER CHANGING WRITING DESK -

YES !!! It is a record I have moved again, and along with moving comes the challenge of a new space to maneuver my writing jingles around in. Here is the result. Some of it stayed the same while other areas have changed.

Some of the cool things are that I now have candles & flowers around my desk. Little bits & bobs that are inspirational. I also have a lot of clutter. I love clutter. Which I have probably mentioned before :] - Bit I like to be organized as well. So I have spent some time organizing files, and making schedules for my writing. [see previous entry]

The One-Day Writing Workshop

2009-07-10T07:48:00.000-07:00

Check out my plans for finishing Short stories.

Each month is dedicated to finish a short story series using this One-Day workshop. Provided in Living the Writer's Life- By Eric Maisel, Ph.D

The One-Day Writing Workshop

Daily Scheduled Time-Table

Beginnings 9:00 am - 9:15 am
Mission Piece 9:15 am - 10:30 am
Break 10:30 am - 10:45 am
Reading your mission piece 10:45 am - 11:00 am
Continuing 11:00 am - 12:00 am
Lunch 12:00 pm - 1:00 pm
Returning to your mission piece 1:00 pm - 2:00 pm
Reading your mission piece 2:00 pm - 2:30 pm
Break 2:30 pm - 2:45 pm
Continuing & Completing 2:45 pm - 4:00 pm
Looking forward 4:00 pm - 4:30 pm

The Projects I have chosen for July are :

Twilight Lesbian Fan-Fiction [10] parts
Sugar Rush Fan- Fiction [5] Parts

So my aim is to follow the schedule if possible & finish these series.
If you work it out that is 15 parts - Per 15 days.
With time left over to edit & submit.
Above this:
I will be attempting to keep a daily, if not weekly progress in how my writing is going. My struggles, my strengths How I believe this program is working for me.

My Writing Bag- May & Early June

2009-05-24T06:39:00.000-07:00

The Month of the Red and Pink

[1] My special Blue Pens – I do not know why I am showcasing these or even keeping them in my writing bag really because all my special, favorite pens have run out of ink and I need to go pen shopping. I love pen shopping, but I never really though about it as much as I am right now. The importance of a good pen. It can make all the difference. One of the pens. Which I am using- I took from my dad. It works good enough, but not quiet as smoothly as I would like to. Next to those- My special pink highlighter which I am using at the moment to mark of my extensive list of stories that need to be typed up and finished.

[2] My little black notebook- That actually sits on my bedside table. It is meant to work as a small dream journal in which I can jot down things I remember from my dream that I want to use in stories etc. It is currently still just sitting on my bedside table as I forget my dreams in the morning- but I intend on training my brain to keep notes of all the little ideas that I have.

[3] Assorted stationary – I need to have post-it-notes around me always and index cards. Anyone who knows me knows that these two small pieces of stationary are very important to me. I keep them on my desk. In my bad. On my bedside table and anywhere else I can really. I need to learn to use them more often as I have more boxes full of them.

[4] Mother Energy Drinks- Usually I would opt for a more light drink like tea or iced coffee, but as it was these mothers were on special so I picked up a two for one offer at my local quick service station. They are one of the many treats that I love to have every now and then especially to keep awake when I am working on a big project or developing ideas. I vowed though to keep my imagination and hyperactivity inside after last time. (Don't ask.)

[5] Books – It is pretty self explanatory why I have books in my writing book. Which also when I am not out stay on my bedside table. These are just two of the books that I am currently reading. (I will put up a picture up when I can.) The two books featured are Lover Awakened by J.R.Ward [One of my favorite Authors of the paranormal romance genre] & Bella Of The Ball -Kristen Stewart – A biography by Jo Hurley. [Yes I am obsessed with her.

[6] My Sony Walkman – My soul of inspiration, motivation and life. My music collection and audio collection. I have a mix of music and erotica stories that I love to listen to while I am writing erotica. On my playlist right now on repeat is Marilyn Manson's album – The High End of Low. [ Which I will be doing a review on.] I cannot write without listening to music either before, during or after.

[7] The Red Folder – Which is actually home to my daily pages. Every day I aim to write three pages on loose leaf paper about anything and everything that comes to mind. There are no rules. I just write. Usually I do them in the morning, but as I have a new writing routine [which I will attach to the bottom of this entry] – I have been spanning the writing out over the day. When it is done at the end of the week it goes into the folder :]

[8] My novel drafts and loose writing and notes – Yes I am a very organized writer. I love to have little notes everywhere and I just have to make rough drafts of my novels. I usually use the black clip board when it comes to typing the actual parts of my novels up. I carry the drafts around in plastic pockets while I am working on them. They are easy to use and when they get withered I can just throw them out. Right now I am working on 'The Apparition Man- Chapter 32.'

A few snapshots of the most important areas of my room

2009-05-23T01:03:00.001-07:00

These are pretty dodgy photos.

[1] As you can see the top is my writing cabinet. Full of all my writing books, my draws full of paper, and various others.

[2] My overly clean desk. I love clutter- but in this case everything had its place and I had not started cluttering up my desk yet. I am a considerably organized writer though.

[2&3] My whole top and bottom layer of my cupboard are home to my 103 books. Eight of which I have actually finished - Maybe I do need to stop buying them.

I Support Twilight Guy <3

2009-04-17T22:34:00.001-07:00

Team Twilight

Never in a million years did I think it would come to this day.
When I admit how much I really Love Twilight and what it means to me.
I support Twilight Guy & Stephanie Meyer.
TEAM TWILIGHT !!!!

Visit : http://www.twilightguy.com/

Twilight Book Review

2009-04-09T21:28:00.000-07:00

Twilight-Stephanie Meyer

´*•.¸(*•.¸♥¸.•*´)¸.•*´
♥«´¨• Twilight •´¨`»♥
¸.•*(¸.•*´♥`*•.¸)`*•.¸

I took the plung into the cult that is 'Twilight'. It has taken me a few months to have the free time to sit down and read the book and suprisingly It has only taken me roughly two weeks to read it. Which for me is an achivement in itself. So while I am about to point out a few cons about the book itself, I will admitt that the book itself was an addictive read in most places and I will not be joining the Anti-Twilight group just yet. (Already ready to read New Moon.)

Starting back from chapter 23 [The Angel]: I really thought that this chapter was really rushed. In comparative to the movie I understand the need to stretch it out but I was hoping that in the books case that the scene with James would go into detail. It was really all to fast for me to comprehend. I would have preferred it to go into the biting scene and really delve into the senses Edward was feeling as he bit her. The look on his face and the feelings of his body.

Next thing on my list of cons is Pacing: The book itself like the movie was rather slow and bland to start with. Not that it was a bad thing once it picked up. But I did not feel as though I was immediately taken into her world. It took a bit for me to find my placing in the book itself. Again when I did find my pacing it was an enjoyable read.

My second final Con with the book that I can think of at present was Target age: While much like the 'Harry potter" series where I can see people of all ages reading the series. It was most definitely aimed for young adults. Ages 13-17. I found it hard to connect with the characters for the most part because even though I am an adult myself I am still a young adult and I believe that the characters lacked a little in the age sector. It seemed to me that they were written to be 14-15 rather than 17 and onwards. Had it been revved up a little with more intense sexual tension and character interactions it would have made for a perfect Target age in my eyes.

My final con was The baseball Scene: It was really lacking edge. I wonder if I should have read the book before the movie but the way it was described definitely lacked that fast past action adrenaline that I expected to read about. in fact that is one of my favorite scenes because it brings them all together in a humane sense, while showing their true characters and to have it down played was a little disheartening. When you read it though you must listen to Supermassive Black Hole by Muse !!!

What I did love about the book was the character interactions on family matters. I really loved the way that family played a large part in the series. There was no real teenage rebellion against parents wishes in the books which was refreshing. Given Bella had her issues with Charlie, but that was more awkwardness than rebellion. Until the scene in which she has to be cruel to be kind with Charlie and leave. It was my favorite scene in the whole book and the one I connected with most greatly.

I also loved how each character was different. They each had their own worlds inside the same one. Each had their best and worst traits and qualities and it was interesting going on the journey with each one through the course of the book. I am looking forward to reading more to find out about more characters. My special interest is in Alice.

Overall I did enjoy reading the book. It was as I said very addictive. It was easy to read and hold and it kept my interest as the chapters were not overly lengthy and it did not drone on about anything. It made sense and connected with each character.

Overall I give this book : ѼѼѼѼ Apples !!!!

Blair.

January In a nut shell & Goals for Febuary

2009-02-05T22:30:00.000-08:00

Ah how inspiration works it's magic.

This week has been a hellish ride, but an inspirational and provocative week filled with crisp opportunities for tuning in my muse and unleashing the wild prolific writer in me.

Firstly: It is my greatest pleasure to announce that “The Apparition Man” (Novel 4) is being written as we speak, or rather as I type this blog.

I am currently at One-Hundred & Twenty Three parts [123 #] , Thirty- One chapters [31#] & Three Hundred & Six pages [306#]. Following this I have another part to finish [124#] and then I will have completed the first chapter In Reidy Hopes Point of View for novel Four.

So huzzah for that accomplishment because I seriously doubted my ability to kick start this novel again, and while it is and will me a straining journey, it is a major goal and aspiration of mine and I will not be giving up at all.

In January the total score of my prolificness (Is a word apparently) 27 pieces of writing Ranging from Short stories- Novel parts- to poems- prose- and lyrics.

A list of my written workings from January 2009:

Slippage (Erotica)
Disposable (One sentence – Contest Entry)
What a way to make a living part 1 (Erotica)
I am Part 3 (Poem)
I am continued (Poem)
I am (poem)
I hate you cause you're plastic (Lyrics)
Are you Ready (Lyrics)
The Apparition Man part 121 # (Novel part)
A mess of emotions (Prose)
Fingertips (Erotica)
Confessions from a Moleskine – Prognosis Part One (Prose)
Her Sick sad Story (Back Cover Contest)
So the story continues (Prose)
Fighting (poem)
All Alone- All alone (Poem)
This is how my world will end (True story for contest)
From something to nothing (Poem)
Do you? (Poem)
To all my friends (message and notes of prose)
A-Z of Demons (Contest Entry A-Z)
Confessions from a Moleksine – Paranoia thoughts (Prose)
Confessions from a Moleksine- All about my writing (Prose)
Sweet Poison – Mr Freya (Short Story)
Disposable memories and photographs (Poem)
Confessions from a Moleskine -Disposable Memories
Letting love speak freely (poem)

My work can be found on Storywrite under Disposable: [links]

http://storywrite.com/Disposable

***

Okay so I hope that I counted that correctly and for those of you who have no idea what a Moleskine is. (Shame on you) Here are two links:

The first is an image:

http://moots.files.wordpress.com/2006/12/moleskine.jpg

The second is a link to the site:

http://www.moleskinerie.com/

I promise you will be inspired.

So as you can tell January was quite productive.

I still have some workings of writing that need to be finished.

Why I got into the car (Contest Entry)
Prologue to fingertips (Short story)
Typing rough draft of Sweet Poison]
Finishing Chapter 31 of “The Apparition Man”

I hope to have these goals finished early in February.

I shall keep posting, until then... let your muse be with you.

Blair :)

Writing Again.

2009-01-30T20:31:00.000-08:00

OMG!!!!
It is a miracle.
I am writing again.

Stories I am currently working on are:
. The Apparition Man (Novel 4)
. Who knew (Why I got behind the wheel)
. What a way to make a living (Incest love) Collaboration

Here is what is in my writer's Bag atm (January is almost over)

My Writing Bag For January

2009-01-03T04:47:00.000-08:00

In my writing Bag: January
. New papermate colored pens
. P-touch labeler
. Mr Nervous desk buddy
. Connection liquid
. Manila folder
. New exercise book for 09
. Pencil sharper
. New pen
. Story plots & Ideas
. Post-it-notes
. Notebook decorations

I will keep you posted on how I used these items through the month as a challenge.

New Writing Space 2009

2009-01-03T04:31:00.000-08:00

This is my new writing space. As you can see it is a little cluttered but I tend to like things a little cluttered. I love how this is set up, but am looking at ways ro organize it for more inspiration.

My uber cool - Simple- Notebook

2008-10-22T10:40:00.000-07:00

This is my exponentially cool notebook

This is my cool notebook. A simple exercise book I decorated with Raven stickers and Glittery Alphabet chips.

2008-10-19T04:35:00.000-07:00

I just thought I would show you guys what is in my writer's bag this month:

♥ My Leather bound journal

♥ My sketch pad

♥ My Sugar rush notebook

♥ My Stop A Bullet notebook

♥ Blu tack (colored)

♥ Orange post-it-notes

♥ My Penline Optic Pens

♥ My Bic Smoothie 1.2 pens

♥ My Highliters (orange-n-pink)

♥ Grey lead pencils (2-4)

(Nano Novella) Chapter Three - Title Unknown

2008-10-19T04:34:00.000-07:00

[Jethro's P.O.V ]

Chapter Three

“All I know is that at the end of Scarlett season, I won't be staying in this realm much longer,” Jethro stated, a guttural growl echoing through the chipped wood of his shack.

“You can alert Atlanta that my presence will me made after the blood bath is over.”

“But sire,” Jethro's slave pressed on.

“This is our generation at war. Atlanta is the only surviving female left to the throne of independence. Do you not expect the hunter to travel in thousands, conquer and destroy our land? Destroy our livelihood? They would no sooner kill Atlanta than seek you out. These are our people.”

“Where are our people,” Jethro stung. His usual sensual, sweet toned voice heated and aggressive in the light of Betook's pressure. His eyes burning molten red with frustration.

“ We are the only remaining of our race. There are no people. Our race is long gone and we must move on into the mortal world to find our soul beings to live on. You are living in the past Betook, you must live in the present to survive in our world,”Jethro continued a deep burrowed frown rising underneath his smooth, onyx locks.

“You need not worry, for once your life is over, your soul will pass on. As for Atlanta, she is the sole, remaining, female yes. But she is safe and sheltered. Her child is safe as long as its blood runs through my veins and if I feel danger arising in her. I will come forth and rise to battle.”Jethro sighed, pressing his back against the nails that dug temptingly into his back.

The feeling sensational, overwhelming. He needed the pain coursing through his body. He hungered the pain.

“I must remain in the mortal realm. I must stay in hiding. It is the only safe option for Atlanta, for my nephew and for my families future.”

Silence retreated at the other end. Betook soaked up his masters every word, locking them inside his mind. In a place he could not forget. He was certain his master meant well. Though the looming feeling of danger was wide spread amongst the servant realm and Jethro was having none of it.

How to convince the last know male Vampire that he was alone, was proving to be more than a hassle, or a chore. It was becoming increasingly dangerous and sooner or later the darkness would unfold. Leaving the vampire race to the ashes of the hunters.

“Do I make myself utterly clear?” Jethro questioned. Immediately knowing Betook's answer, pressing the question: regardless.

Surely the being would understand? Surely he would not doubt his master? For doubt could loose one in an alliance with the enemy; the hunter.

And where safety was concerned. His being knew to much. It would be slaughter to Jethro to have to rid himself of his companion. One he had grown to love and trust with his very life.

Though when and if the darkness came to shine down on Betook. Jethro would do everything in his right to ensure the safety of his sibling and nephew.

“Yes master,” Betook spoke dully. His voice trailing uncertainty for his master's request.

“Good. I wish for you not to worry Atlanta and their will be consequences for your actions if you choose to disobey my requests. If I wish to confine in her. I shall do it in my own time,” Jethro stated. His heels digging into the cold, concrete, flooring. His body warming to the soft chill that surrounded his body.

He needed to mark... he needed to feed. Scarlett season was fast approaching. The dry season long behind him, leaving him parched. Now was the time to feed, build strength, train. For the battle would be crucial faced alone and he needed all the power he embedded to defeat the hunters.

“Am I free to leave now master?” Betook questioned: remaining uneasy. His breathing rising in awareness of his master's frustration.

“Please do,” Jethro allowed, snapping his cell shut to cease their conversation.

Jethro's body burned. His pearls elongated, dripping with the thick moisture that hung in the air.

“How long?” he questioned himself, peering through the termite, infested cracks of the shack. The sunlights glaring its haunting, revengeful, raze of his skin.

“Dorian,” he whispered, completely forgetting their arrangements in the midst of the dawning attacks.

What was he thinking?

Another broken promise. Another day he had pushed Dorian aside as something less important than he truly was.

Jethro flipped open his cell phone, flicking to his inbox to see one unanswered call. A call from Dorian.

“Shit,” he said, stabbing Dorian's number into the phone, holding his breath while watching the sun hide behind a thick, layer of Grey clouds.

He would need a miracle.

It was his luck, the charm of his being, that today the sun had chosen to hide behind the shadow of an approaching storm: Atlanta. She had done this. She knew that he was in trouble.

Jethro's cell rang out. His patience dry.

“Pick up the phone Dorian,” he hissed. Tapping his foot against the rough skirting. His eyes darting between the sun and the heavy wind that pounded fierce against the shake walls. Warning him of his approaching freedom.

It was of no use. Dorian was pissed and he had every right to be.

Jethro was certain Dorian would have been “Her”. The beauty he had fallen in love with and he deeply regretted what he had missed.

My writer's space

2008-10-19T04:31:00.000-07:00

(Nano Novella) Chapter Two - Title Unknown

2008-10-02T07:16:00.001-07:00

Chapter Two

“Thank you for calling Craft and co, You have reached Jeth Martin. I am currently unavailable to speak at present. So please leave you name and number and I will get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Stupid Jeth,” I hissed snapping the cell shut: before throwing it back in my handbag, feeling the strong urge to throw it at the strange woman who sat in the booth in front of me, sipping her drip, yakking endlessly on the phone with annoyance.

There was no point in leaving a message. If he was not picking up now he was obviously preoccupied. Preoccupied... too preoccupied to meet with me, his lover, as we had arranged, as we had planned weeks ago.

“Bitch,” I muttered to myself, angrily.

Not only was I angry with Jeth. I was furious with myself for ever believing in him. How could I have been so foolish to believe in his promises: promises he never kept.

I had never been outside longer than an hour, masquerading as I was and I sure was not about to make it abundantly apparent to the people who knew me, that I was something, someone that they would never understand, nor accept.

Jeth. Why had he done this to me? What had been more important than this, than me, than leaving me sitting here alone, waiting, hoping. Hoping he would show up and make my dreams become a reality.

My emotions were becoming vague. My happiness scarce.

I had been shown up, stood up by the man who had promised me the world and worse yet I had been shown up as “Her”.

I pushed my empty mug away, wiping my mouth clean, hindered. The coffee tasting foul on my tongue, on my teeth causing my mouth to become parched and desperately dry.

I grunted, baffled. Before even having the chance to escape I was once again confronted with the service of the pin-up waitress. Her arm already extended. Her body towering over the booth, ready to pour me another round of the sickly,bitter liquid.

“No more coffee,” I groaned. “His” voice deeply becoming apparent.

I held back a sigh and waited. I had no strength to hide my secret, nor was I ready to put on a smile and act politely in her intolerable presence. I instead brushed her hand away, careful not to burn myself in the process and cocked my head to the side, waiting for her reaction.

Ms. Cherry raised her eyes. Her blond, wispy, eyebrows thin fluff under her electric, bleached hair.

“Freak,” she muttered, retreating the boiling kettle away from the table. Her hands grasping the mug from beneath my fingertips, making it her cause to veer as far away from the “Freak show” as possible.

I extended my hand, glaring unnerved in her direction: bitter with her disrespect and inhuman decency.

They were all the same. All of them. Another scene, another day, another word.

Did they not know that I was human too? Or did they not care? Would they ever?

I was unsure, uncertain and unable to answer my own question.

I would one day.

I had made it a personal promise to myself and it was times like these when I got closer to the truth.

Times when naive strangers took a personal stab at me with no justification or no idea about who I was or where I came from.

It was times like these that crushed me deeper into the hole of fear, but readied me for the night ahead hour less writing and I had an idea in mind for the Cherry, Pin-up, bitch.

I could fee myself sinking deeper inside, deeper in sadness and embarrassment. My glare fading to a troubled frown.

I would not let her see my weakness. I could not let her see that her cruel, daggered comment had got into me and who was she anyway?

I could answer that well.

She was another narrow minded, lower-class, bigot. One more enemy to society and one more tragic soul to stay away from. In her case, as far away as my sanctuary as possible and that pained me.

I hated Jeth.

How could Jeth have been so insensitive? How could he have left me, alone, sitting in a place like this? Dressed the way that I was? Dressed for him and only him? Being the man that I was?

It was immoral. It was humiliating and I wanted to bury my head deep in the dirt of my backyard, so deep that I would suffocate and wake up to realize that this was all just a manic nightmare. That this was not happening. That I was not so lonely.

I reached into my handbag, taking out my David. J, designer wallet.

I expected the best. I earned the best. I was the best when I was “Him”.

The pin-up bigot stared at my hands:outreached. Her mouth crippled in disgust.

“There is a coffee shop down town, east, off the corner on Holland street. I think it would be more suited to your kind.”

My kind?

I could smell the coffee in the kettle. The hot steam exhaling, drifting, reminding me of the anger I was pushing down deeper inside of me.

I took out a twenty, throwing it on the table.

There were a million spiteful things that I wanted to say to the woman, knowing most of them would lead to me back handing her the “shit-don't-stink” expression of her face.

I instead turned my heel with my dignity still in shape, heading towards the entrance not turning my back once.

I did not deserve this derogatory service. I would be the better person.

Ms Cherry need not worry. There was no way I was coming back to this place: sanctuary or not and I had made a note to myself to file a complain when I got home. Luckily for her, home was where I was headed.

I could not stay in the daylight dressed like this: not any longer than I already had.

Jeth had taken his chance and blown it. I was not waiting around in humiliation any longer.

I held my head up high, tossing my hair behind my shoulders. The pain now burned me deep. My anger sizzling into the dread of loneliness.

Jeth had a reason. He always did and I loved him: no matter how much I was hurting right now. But for now I needed to wipe myself clean.

Erase "Her".

(Nano Novella) Chapter One - Title Unknown

2008-10-02T07:12:00.000-07:00

Chapter One.

“More coffee?” a woman in a cherry, pin-up girl dress asked me, filling my half full mug with the rich aroma of impatience.

Impatience: A virtue that I wish more people were immune to.

I smiled a crinkled smile of appreciation, dreading her return. There was something about her that I could not put my finger on. She was different; fresh. I would find a place for her somewhere, someday. Today was not that day.

I had been sitting in the same dingy booth since the rising of dawn. I had watched as the strangers filled my sanctuary, my eyes straining against the flickering sunlight that caught my attention when the door was slammed shut: another customer content.

“Where is he?” I hushed to myself. The question brimming in my mind, uneasy and unsettling.

I was at a point in which my own fears had hit their highest limits, causing my fingers to tremble, to shake: fighting against my own self-inflicted nervousness.

I sipped from my lipstick smeared mug. The taste bittersweet in my mouth. The same as Jeth had been so many nights ago.

I wiped my sugar-coated lips on a nearby napkin, taking the time to feel my fingertips touching my skin.

How I yearned for his heavy body in collision with mine, pressing hard against me. His teeth nipping the lump in my throat that distinguished everything that made me who I was, In society's eyes: Sickening.

How I longed for the sheltering tear drops of rain that we had surrendered to. Together in the midst of the hot, storm season. The Monsoon, as Dolorous had called it and I had her to thank.

For if it had not been for her childish humor, peer pressure and unquestionably, filthy, bed jokes, I would not have been sitting in this tattered booth sipping on musky coffee. While dreaming of the man who had taken my heart and ravished it in a world where I was Cinderella and he was the charming prince looking for the perfect glass slipper.

I was by far “The cliché maiden.”

I replied heavily on society's stereotypes to get me by.

By day I was respected, loved, cherished. People looked up to me as an inspiration. A knight in shining armor. The good guy, with a good job, a good home, good friends.

What else could I want when the sun rose and set over the sky scrapers, over the parks in which the trees swayed their peaceful melodies of beauty and over the city I had grown up in? Where I had been surrounded by so many, but felt so alone? What more did I need?

By the night I was someone different, someone I was only beginning to understand. Someone who had been locked inside since my bitter childhood. Someone who knew how to escape it all.

The lights, the sound, the tastes, the smell. The men, all of them like me. Though in my self awareness I had doubt.

The man I was when the stars danced over the city, was a man I could not be with anyone else other than Jeth.

By night I was no Bridget Jones, neither was I any Angelina Jolie and while though the singleton life of chronic alcoholism, tobacco spitting, anti-social journal feasts kept me thoroughly occupied on myself. There was much more to me than the endless pages of drivel I churned out in hopes of one day fulfilling my wildest dreams.

To share my story, to make a difference in the world. To somehow, someday, step outside and walk the streets as I did every Saturday morning. Four blocks away from the man that everyone knew to the man I wanted to be. The man Jeth had allowed me to be.

The man I was. I had defined as simply as I could on a regular basis.

How could anyone ever love someone like me? I was simple, drag, monotonous. At least as long as the sun shone bright I was.

How could someone of my personality and dedication be someone that Jeth had fallen in love with. Who he wanted to live with and someday Marry--- Marry? Who would want to marry a person like me?

Marry. How foolish of me.

No man nor woman would marry a man like me.

A man so dependent on the observation and journey of life itself that I hardly had the time to live my own.

If my inclinations were no flaw to Jeth. Nothing mattered to him, but our connection, our love.

For some unquestionable reason Jeth had fallen madly in love with the writer I was to become. He had become infatuated with the storyteller I was. He had invested his whole livelihood into making my dreams come true and for what?

I continue to question myself with a heavy heart and mind.

I look up to see that the clock had long stricken past Twelve.

He is late, tardy.

Once again I am left alone in my thoughts. The place where without my characters I fall into the darkness that pulls me under the vines of self-conscientiousness that strangled me whole.

Today is yet another day. Another page. Another story to add to my every growing collection of life's juicy secrets.

Today I have learned detachment.

Oh the sorrowful detachment from my yearning.

For yearning and longing can spoil a person, degrade a person and lose a person in insanity's ferocious grip.

I detached myself from my surroundings, hearing the faint jingle of the doorbell. A warning that yet another stranger had walked through the doors of my sanctuary. Thirsty, ready to quench their parched souls with the optional juices that life had to offer.

I sipped on my coffee, draining the warm, bittersweet release, knowing that in no time the cherry, pin-up waitress will be back to fill my mug with her intolerance & impatience.

As the clock strikes half-past. I dig deep into what feels like a bottomless pit inside my handbag.

I reach for my cell. I can feel the caffeine surging its way through my body.

My nerves, cliche: like steel.

I feel aggression igniting inside of me, fear becoming weary.

Patience was never one of my finer virtues.

Halloween Nano

2008-09-30T04:43:00.000-07:00

Tick...tock... tick... tock...

Nano Approaches.

I await the time when the clock will strike Twelve.

November looks so far away.

November will be the big one.

October will be the decider.

October will reveal if I am ready.

Tick...tock... tick... tock...

Ready to write.

Ready be be a writer.

I have set the clock.

Not to long now.

A little under three hours.

Tick...tock...tick...tock.

I still have no idea what my plot is.

Who my characters are.

Where my characters are.

Why they are even there.

But I will in less than three hours.

When I mark the pages.

Those blank pages that have buried me deep in desperation.

Tonight I fight.

For the next 31 days I fight.

Fight for my right to write.

Fight for me.

Tick...tock...tick...tock.

Wish me luck!!!

I am going to need it.

"The Dry Season"

2008-09-28T08:41:00.001-07:00

What defines “The dry season”?

Many months ago you could say I was very prolific.
The standards of my work could be desired.
I chose quantity over quality and suffered in the end.

It was not that I did not care.
I was just did not understand the technical side of writing.
Things like Grammar, Spelling, Punctuation, sentence structure etc.

At present I have five so-called finished novels.
All in which sit upon my desk: unedited and in my idea, incomplete.

It was not until I had a wake up call (no pun intended) at 3am in the morning might I add- That I realized that the way I was churning out these stories was not doing my credibility any justice. Not only that the quality and my need to write regardless my forcing myself to was starting to affect my flow and passion for the craft.

It was then, with a fellow writers encouragement and discouragement that I hit “The dry season.”

A season in which I am blocked mentally from writing and typing, but not from free flowing ideas or passion for my ideas and the need to write.

This is a period in time which I have always claimed as a “Writers stump” and as before I have sworn I would not let anyone crush me or stand in the way of my dreams of becoming a writer.

I will not be defeated.

In the same token I have taken my fellow writer's advice and have started to work progressively towards proofing and editing my already written manuscripts.

But the question lays inside of me...in my heart...where my passion is marrow deep.

How do I get past “The dry season?”: My “Writer's stump?”

How to I look past the discouragement, the fear and pit pen to page, fingers to keyboard and write through this “Stump Season” without feeling like a failure every time I start to write, every time I think about writing?

To Answer does not speak to me with my voice... it is written on the many pages I intend to embark on in the fight against the wall of digression that has me swallowed in depressions tight, grip.

I will write through “The dry season” and only then, and only then will I know the truth within the questions that have strangled my credibility and writer's soul.