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Posts Tagged ‘reading’

The fog settled, blanketing all around him.
He sighed. Well, he enjoyed the beautiful sunshine while it shone upon him, that was for certain, but could he be so lucky as to have that always? He looked around again and believed not. The change had come and the world was shifting into its ghostly darkness. But surely it was worth a try? He deserved it, didn’t he? He deserved a place of comfort where he could rest his weary head, a place he could call home, a place that could teach him to smile again. He let the thought stay with him for a moment and then shrugged it off. Who was he to say?

He could move, he supposed, but even then the sunshine turns to night, right? And isn’t that the same thing? He guessed so. The night that brought everything cruelly back to him, that filled him with terror and uncertainty, that stole any glimmer of a way out was sometimes more than he could handle. But there was no one to listen to him anyway.

Now what? He brought his hand up close to his face and studied it in the haze of white. His hand old and calloused and hardened by the long hours he worked showed fingers bent, tired and dirty, and a trace of a lifeline that was short and faded and perhaps as insignificant as he was in this white darkening world. This fog was only going to get worse before it got better, and the thought of losing his way, to stumble further from his destination was no comfort. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t, he thought. Now he brought up his other hand and together covered his face—exhausted, perhaps even defeated. Such was the struggle. But he had come this far, seen such beauty, experienced the wonder of a life he could only have dreamt of, and now there was no going back. It was done. In the darkness of his hands he could see it all so clearly, and it was worth it, if only his feet and his heart would oblige.

He dropped his hands and shook his head abruptly. No! He could do this. His journey was set, his sacrifice long ago ordained and so it would be done, no matter how hard it would be, no matter what the obstacles. That was his destiny. So he picked up his duffle, lifted his face skyward to let all of the white cover him—a prayer in a cloud, an acknowledgement, an understanding, a summons for strength—tiny beads of moisture forming and rolling away down his face. Tears? Perhaps.
Then he straightened and took his first step forward, doing what needed to be done, continuing his journey towards the sun.

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Definitions for abrazo – noun [ah-brah-thaw/saw]

  1. Spanish. An embrace – used in greeting someone.

He had watched them embrace many times before—warm, friendly, safe—but now he noticed the abrazo lingered, first arms and then eyes and he suddenly knew she was gone.

 

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Words are a lens to focus one’s mind.

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“Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.” 
Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

I’m sure when Dickens sat down to write Great Expectations he really had no great expectations, except to achieve his daily routine of capturing thought to paper.

If there’s one thing I know for certain is that expectation from others will often lead to disappointment—wiping smiles, destroying hopes and weakening your power. It can be the killer of dreams and the master of hate.

However, expectation from yourself only fosters determination and resilience and ultimately success—instilling confidence, strengthening dreams and harnessing your power to full potential. The faster you learn this rule, Writer, the easier it will be for you to move forwards.

If you expect to write the next best seller, or expect to become rich and famous, or even be naive enough to expect that writing is as easy as sitting at a keyboard outpouring your ideas, then disappointment will come to you swiftly enough, swinging its hammer clumsily to knock you off your perch. And it will hurt.

If you expect difficulties, or expect challenges, or expect frustrations, then if they come to you, your likely response will be to grit your teeth, to dig deep and to strive harder to push through. When the going gets tough … well, you know the rest. Triumph will reign.

Experienced writers know this. They know when they set out to write that the task is daunting and the challenge great. But they also know that if they let expectations of being published, or praised, or rewarded enter their mind, it will override the truth of who they are. They are writers, driven to write for the enjoyment and inner fulfilment that comes with creating and sharing—that is their reward and that is their driving force. If they let the mountainous task of writing books scare them, there would be nothing to read.

So stop and take a minute and appreciate who you are and what you have. Enjoy your work and be grateful for being able to do what you love. Use your time to make a difference and let gratitude be the saviour of your soul. It’s the journey that matters; who cares about the destination.  Forget great expectations; make your own expectations great!

Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself.”

Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

What expectations do you have, Writer?

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The season to be jolly is over, the Christmas cheer has long dissipated, and the festivities have wrapped up with an almighty hooray as the children are gladly ushered back to school with their packed lunches, sharpened pencils, and expectations of new discoveries and learning, awaiting to envelope their curious minds. Meanwhile, the dreary rest slowly revert back to our usual selves—angry, cranky, grumpy, and with the weight of the daily grind and unrealistic expectations on our shoulders. Yes, it’s time to get back to work.

Nah! What am I saying? Writers are happy people, right? Hello?

If you are like me and have had a break from writing, then returning to your desk may feel foreign, like a journey to a place once visited a long time ago. Its familiarity welcomes you and yet you still have to reacquaint yourself, to navigate around your surroundings and discover with delight that all is where it was last time. Nothing has changed except your fresh view and rested mind. There is promise. You can feel it in the air. You look around. The landscape is filled with certainty and ideas are sprouted in thickets great and small like colourful flower gardens awaiting your attention. You can see your goals placed out far and wide—in reach and in consideration—and instincts tell you that any direction you choose to travel is the right way. You smile … remembering … knowing where your heart lies. There is love and passion and it surfaces with greater intensity and it fills you with happiness. It’s good to be back.

So, Writer, remember: Distance gives you clarity. New goals give you direction. Ideas surround you in abundance, and commitment brings you one step closer to achieving your dreams. So begin. One word at a time. Your place and your craft and your love are not forgotten; they can never be forgotten.

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Over the past few weeks, Death has surrounded me. She has held me, cried with me, and wiped my tears while the coffins lowered into the earth. We threw roses together and sobbed. She stood beside me and whispered her apologies in my ear. She spoke in her soft sweet voice reminding me to embrace the moment, to capture it, to keep it close, to keep it safe and to treasure it.

Death brings shock, tears and sadness. He brings an understanding to mortality and sometimes a revelation and an urgency to live life. He can bring emptiness and frustration and sometimes relief. Once in a while Death brings happiness and celebration, but mostly he brings reflection. He gives this to us, humbly offering it like a gift, imploring us to remember and enjoy, to use it to acknowledge the past while setting course to change and enhance our future.

As another birthday rolls by, blending time with maturity, bringing me closer to death, I imagine death to be like me, trying his best to work hard and to get through life as easily as possible, to be understood and accepted by those all around, and to be valued. But as with age, Death is certainty and certainty, nearer the end, eventually becomes easier to accept. So I’ve been told.

So, Writer, how will you use your gift, how will you use your time and how will you leave your mark?

Know that time is short and time is precious and your life and your talent can make a difference to the world and leave a lasting legacy. So stop procrastinating! Live your life and live your dreams. Pick up your pen, gather your thoughts, plot your future and write like there’s no tomorrow, because you just never know … well perhaps Death does.

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Manuscript: Hello? Hello.

I’m lookin’ for my writer.

Wait. Okay … okay … okay.

If this is where it has to happen, then this is where it has to happen.

I’m not letting you get rid of me. How about that?

This used to be my specialty. You know, I was good in a living room. They’d send me in there, and I’d do it alone. And now I just …

But tonight, I had a very big night—a very, very big night.

But it wasn’t complete, wasn’t nearly close to being in the same vicinity as complete, because I couldn’t share it with you.  I couldn’t hear your voice or laugh about it with you.  I miss my—.

We live in a cynical world, a cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors.

I love you.

You … complete me.

 

Your manuscript started with scattered ideas and thoughts swirling, colliding and melding in your mind. You’ve spent hours researching and planning. You’ve written from dusk till dawn, burnt the candle, and isolated yourself from the world for many moons. And now, finally, with the last sentence, the last word, the last full stop—it’s done—you’ve completed your first draft of your manuscript. You have an overwhelming feeling of relief and satisfaction, a smile of pride and accomplishment. You push your chair back from your desk, raise your hands in a humble triumphant salute and turn to acknowledge this achievement, but … there’s no one there. There’s never anyone there. Such is the life of a writer. Now what?

Whoa, backup! Is that a serious question?

Yes.

Well, I’ll tell you what … Get the champagne, call your friends and family because it’s time to celebrate and to party hard. Completing a manuscript is a big deal so treat it like a big deal because you deserve it. It’s not about being perfect because first drafts usually aren’t. They are flawed and rough, and that doesn’t matter because you’ve captured your idea and that’s what counts.

After celebrating, distance yourself from your manuscript for a few weeks so that when you return to it you are ready for a fresh approach. Only then can the real work begin—to reread, rework, and perhaps to rewrite—to edit, to remove unwanted passages and sentences, to look at structure and spelling, to improve on word choices, or character voices and to tighten language so that your manuscript can burst through that door and find you and look at you with that Jerry Maguire sincerity and proclaim those words that you have so longed to hear … no, not, Show me the money, but rather, You completed me!

Writer:  Shut up. Just shut up.

You had me at hello.

You had me at hello.

 

How do you celebrate your milestones?

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