Tag Archives: inspiration

rollin’, rollin’, rollin’…

23 Monday Sep 2019

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Got me a jumbled brain from too many notions and a lack of laying’ things out on the page. Picked up a just-folks twang watching’ the first couple episodes of Country Music on PBS. Ken Burns has got himself a bunch of music my mama and daddy loved to listen to back in the day, and there’s some nice background as to how that music came to be.  From Jimmie Rodgers to Patsy Cline, Roy Acuff and his Foggy Mountain Boys to Mother Maybelle Carter, sprinkled with Hank Williams, the Maddox Brothers and Rose, and lots in between, I’ve been remembering the music and early days of television when we’d watch Grand Ole Opry. Funny thing is, I didn’t like a lot of the music then, even as a kid being kind of embarrassed at the almost-sobs in some of the voices, and the gut-punch emotion of often spare lyrics. I was getting into rock and roll, and that was more my speed. Now I see I didn’t have enough wear and tear on my tires to appreciate the hard times behind those songs. My treads are plenty low in spots now, and in those songs I can hear pain being made into art…sometimes with a twang.

 

fashion woman working girl

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One of my favorite authors, Stephen King, has a real talent for evoking the flavor of my childhood. The granddaughter and I, having seen It a couple of years ago, went to see the sequel, It Chapter Two last week. Everybody and his balloon has reviewed the movie, so I won’t, but I will comment about the format we saw it in, 4DX, something previously unknown to me. To quote Wikipedia:  4DX is a motion picture technology owned and developed by South Korean company CJ 4DPLEX, a part of the CJ Group. 4DX allows a motion picture presentation to be augmented with environmental effects such as seat motion, wind, rain, lights, and scents along with the standard video and audio. That meant every time there was an action scene, our seats shook or air puffed against our hair or drops of liquid hit our faces (or glasses). Was it blood? Dunno. By the time we got to the big ending, we were shaking around in our seats and I was trying to forget that one of the aspects of my childhood had been motion sickness. No, not quite that bad, but it was distracting. I loved the book It because of the pathos underlying it, and the emotional horror that made the children who they were. The bells and whistles of 4DX made me think of all the summer movies touted to be a hell of a ride! It’ll take me a while to see this movie again and then it’ll definitely be in 2D.

 

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Mornings are getting cooler and crisper, and leaves are beginning to turn. Autumn is here and I’m excited. We’ve already had two good signs: a full moon on Friday the 13th. The creative juices increase in direct proportion to amount of falling leaves. Can’t remember where I saw this scientific info, but I’ll footnote it next time. Here’s to new projects, new goals. May your efforts be rewarded.

 

 

autumn autumn colours autumn leaves background

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Golden Weekend…

05 Thursday Sep 2019

Posted by in Colorado Gold Writing Conference, Writing

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I’ll be hanging with wonderful people for the next few days, a tribe of amazing, insane, creative, ever-hopeful souls daring to find themselves in worlds previously unknown. Writers of all stripes will mingle together in the never-ending search for words and ways to use them.

Yes, Colorado Gold, the annual conference presented by Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, will rearrange the interior landscape of scribblers from many places, and a community of dreamers will band together to discuss the joys of creation and complain about the frustrations of sharing their visions. Tales will be told, wine will flow, sleep will be eschewed. And who knows how many stories will be born? How many characters will step forward to join the fray?

We shall see what comes of such a celebration of words and the way authors use them.

 

open book on book

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Beginning of the year…

09 Sunday Sep 2018

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Or so it seems to me. Having spent so many years in school, September is my January and I feel a surge of possibility when it rolls around. The temperatures may still be in the eighties, but I envision digging out sweaters and jeans. I can almost smell chalk in the air and hear bells ringing to signal class changes. (Or my ears are finally going the way of all flesh.)img_2345.jpg

A few ideas are rumbling through the empty halls of my brain and I’m looking forward to exploring them. All I have to do first is pull weeds and clear out our old back porch so it can be torn down. A new porch will be built after that. Strictly speaking, that means September will be filled with all sorts of tasks that will stand in the way of writing much. But, that means the beginning of this creative year will actually be in October, a month I dearly love. So, still things to look forward to.

Watch this space.halloween-pumpkins-pd

Looking for the spark…

06 Tuesday Feb 2018

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It’s February and the ground is brown. Leaves left in piles for critters seeking refuge are dry (isn’t the whole state dry?) and they whisper as roaming breezes search for somewhere to hide. It’s February and the air is hard and cold. A few creeping myrtle leaves in a rock garden, liverish green and curled into commas, hint at new life. Nobody’s buying it.

My imagination, some call her Fancy, is perched on a headstone just inside the cemetery, throwing pebbles at a crooked row of  markers. She hasn’t hit any yet. Her knees poke through her jeans, and her mud-brown jacket is threadbare. “I wish you’d come up with a decent idea,” she mutters when she runs out of ammo. Her chin jerks toward the pathetic line of crosses. “One you can’t bury in ten minutes.”

She throws rocks at everything I come up with. “The sun’s going down,” I announce. “We ought to go.”

She shoots me such a look. “It’s one-thirty-two, you dork.” Her arm lifts to point above us at the shrouded sun. “We’ve been out here for less than an hour. You can’t hole up all day and let Nostalgia get in your head. She’s deadly!”

I hunch my shoulders and turn away. “I need to get the tax prep done.”

“There’s a creative idea.”

Fancy brushes past me and I smell cloves, her signature scent. Maybe I should dab clove oil behind my ears. It might jump-start some brain cells.

“Come on, then,” she calls back to me from the gate. “While you work on taxes, I’ll watch old movies. It’ll give me something–anything–to think about.” Her tone is grim.

“Bitch,” I whisper as I follow her. She always grabs at fun while I get stuck with the humdrum. And image floats into my mind. A man humming as he cleans a gun. He has blood on his hands.

“Hmmm.”

 

 

 

When less seems like more…

23 Wednesday Aug 2017

Posted by in Eclipse, Life, The sky, Uncategorized

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I didn’t want to drive to Wyoming with 200,000 other hearty souls, so we stayed at home for the eclipse. Here in Denver our image would be about 92.5 percent of a total eclipse and I decided that would be good enough for me.

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As the shadow of the moon began to consume the sun, the day dimmed, little by little. We were using a pinhole camera made from a box. Yes, there was the tiny circle with the tiny partial shadow. And then we looked at the sidewalks.

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The closely-spaced tree leaves overhead created small holes, and astronomer bugs had gnawed holes in some of those leaves. The sidewalks were teeming, burgeoning, bubbling with images of the sun made smaller by growing shadows of the moon. We were surrounded by an infinite number of eclipses, and the resulting landscape–moonscape–sunscape showed a new universe at out feet.

It was amazing. It was science. It was magic.

 

A Lick and a Promise…

19 Friday Feb 2016

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Sunrise at Haystack Rock on Cannon Beach Oregon

Sunrise at Haystack Rock on Cannon Beach Oregon

I’m writing madly, piling up pages so I can finish All In Bad Time,
Book Three of the Wisdom Court series. But I can’t leave the Valentine’s Day Greetings forever, so here’s something else to look at. Let your mind float, your eyes go out of focus, and think about the things that could have happened here.

Now write!

 

Here’s another year…

02 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by in Hope, Symbols, Writing

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Happy New Year. (Yes, it’s January 2, but what the hell? I can still wish good things for us all.)

I love the feeling of new possibilities, fresh starts, good things to come. Even the thought of taxes can’t suppress enthusiasm. My only questions is, if a day on the calendar can be so easily declared a good thing, why can’t I summon the feeling whenever I want? Ah, the mysteries of life.

Here’s to you and to me and to us all. May your writing fill the pages, may your revisions fill your souls with joy, and may wonderful ideas flow in your mind like a river of promises.

Here we come, 2016.

The ornate calendar dial, showing the 12 months of the year, in the Prague Astronomical Clock

The ornate calendar dial, showing the 12 months of the year, in the Prague Astronomical Clock

 

What’s with all the Owls, Yvonne?

13 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by in Plot, Wisdom Court

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Funny you should ask. I’ve been on a tear lately, posting pictures of owls whenever I feel like it. The owl has become the symbol for the novel I’m working on, All In Bad Time, Wisdom Court Book Three. And the reason for that is nicely explained at the website The White Goddess at thewhitegoddess.co.uk:

” In Ancient Greek mythology the Owl was a creature sacred to Athena, Goddess of the night who represented wisdom. Athena, the Greek Goddess of Wisdom had a companion Owl on her shoulder, which revealed unseen truths to her. Owl had the ability to light up Athena’s blind side, enabling her to speak the whole truth, as opposed to only a half truth. The Ainu in Japan trust the Owl because it gives them notice of evil approaching. They revere the Owl, and believe it mediates between the Gods and men. The bird features prominently Celtic folklore where it is considered both to be sacred and to have magical powers, again because of its abilities in the dark. Zulus and other West African nations consider the bird a powerful influence in casting spells, and think that using parts of the owl gives great strength to a person involved with magical incantations.”

If you’ve read my first two Wisdom Court Books, Edge of the Shadow and A Signal Shown, then you already know owls ought to be hanging from the chandeliers at Wisdom Court. But I’ve saved them for the third volume and I’m having a wonderful time researching and finding images of these magnificent birds. They’re inspiring. And you’ll never guess how an owl plays an vital part in the plot of All In Bad Time. (I’m working as fast as I can.)

Cezary Korkosz, Photographer

Cezary Korkosz, Photographer

 

P.S. Edge of the Shadow is still available for 99 cents at Kindle Books and Nook Books. A Signal Shown sells for $3.99 at both places. (And the Finny Aletter mysteries, Scavenger Hunt and Obstacle Course, sell for $3.99 as well.)

Halloween is coming…

25 Saturday Oct 2014

Posted by in Ghosts, Hallowe'en, Haunted Denver, Wisdom Court, Writing

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and I’m working on Book Three of the Wisdom Court chronicles, All In Bad Time. At times I get jittery while listening to the creaks and sighs of our old house as I tap away on my keyboard, sitting in my third floor garret. The weather has been summer-hot the last few days, and the deep blue sky heightens the yellows and reds of the autumn leaves. But when the sun goes down, and that’s early these days, the air changes as the shadows venture out from the corners. The bustle of the day gives way to the uneasy quiet of the dark. DCIM100SPORT

Not far away from my garret is a former graveyard. This time of year people again recount the tales of how the bodies were dug out of the cemetery to allow for the park it became. How the contractors grew impatient, not bothering to find all of the remains, moving out headstones but leaving body parts behind. Just a couple of years ago, a sprinkler repair project turned up bones buried beneath the grassy area.

Is it any wonder that some people–those sensitive to the emanations of the past in this old neighborhood–sometimes see things from the corners of their eyes? Feel a chill brush by them as they head home when the light falls behind the mountains?

Alone in my garret, it’s not hard to imagine ghostly figures behind me, intent upon catching the attention of my wandering mind, wanting their stories to be told. I like to think that what I write is the product of only my imaginings, but there’s no way to know whose wispy thoughts break through to shape the narrative. And I see things, too, from the corners of my eyes, sometimes feel a breath of cold air move past my cheek.  And I wonder.

 

 

The Year of the Duck: writing with a Mona Lisa Smile

02 Thursday Jan 2014

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This is my year of the ducks.

This is my year of the duck.

Every January I’m imbued with a feeling of possibility. It’s a new year. A period has been added to the last sentence of 2013, and a shiny 2014 is available to fill with ideas, words, and work. I’ve decided to dedicate this year to one of my favorite creatures.

This is my year of the duck.

Ducks are masters of land, sea, and air. They view life with a Mona Lisa smile, and are willing to plumb the depths for sustenance, leaving their heads beneath the surface and their tail feathers vulnerable to the breeze. Awkward at times, graceful at others, they go about their business with enthusiasm.

In the coming twelve months of writing I’ll try to let go of fear standing in the way of expression. I’ll develop a smile to face down the moments when words hide from me like minnows under rocks. When I want to turn away from the computer to find distraction, I’ll focus on my characters until they talk to me and show me the paths they want to follow. I’ll float on the pond of ideas lightly, lightly, and swim my way to the ends of the stories I need to tell.

I’ll stop once in a while to preen my feathers, to feel good about what I’ve written rather than letting the perfectionist-voice whisper criticism to take away my pleasure in what I’ve captured on the page. And I’ll fly high enough to see entire landscapes populated by characters I want to explore.

It’s the year of the duck.