“
It commenced with a chuckle,
Graduated to a giggle,
Ballooned into a belly laugh,
Grew into a guffaw,
And the next thing I knew —
He was rolling on the floor,
Ludicrous with laughter.
Was it something I said???????
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Go ahead: you know you’d like to take part in this prompt.
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“I don’t know what to do,” Neville groaned, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. Then he pushed his laptop out of the way and leaned both elbows onto the coffeehouse table, propping his chin in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” Clarence, the waiter bussing the table next to Neville’s, turned to question him
Neville looked up, startled. “Oh … blast … I didn’t realize I had said that out loud. Sorry,” he added looking sheepishly around the room to see if other customers had heard. He was relieved to see that Elixir of Life Coffeehouse was having one of its quieter days.
“No problem,” Clarence answered and walked over to Neville’s table. “Can I get you a refill?”
“Yeah, that would be great,” Neville answered, handing the boy his cup. “It’s been a rough writing day.”
The young man returned in record time with Neville’s refill and stayed to talk a moment. “Do you have what they call writer’s block?”
“No.” Neville shook his head and continued. “No, Clarence. This isn’t writer’s block. In fact, I almost wish I did have that dreaded condition. My problem isn’t that I can’t get the story to move along. This story is moving along at an incredible pace. The problem is that it’s writing itself, and my original plot is unraveling as fast as I can put my fingers to the keys.”
“You mean you’re not in control of your own story?” Clarence looked at Neville as if he had lost his mind — just a little. And that made Neville laugh.
“Don’t worry, my boy,” he said. “I’ve not gone bonkers yet. And … thanks for making me laugh. It helps. But to answer your question, no, I’m not in control of my own story.”
“Well, how does that happen?” Clarence asked, really into this new information he was being exposed to.
“Well it’s not too unusual for a writer to get into a novel and find that one of his characters seems to gravitate in a direction other than what he had originally planned — or that the story seems to be flowing toward an ending that’s different from what he jotted down in his outline. But what’s happening in my story is different.”
“How?”
Neville shook his head and sighed. “I’m not sure how it’s happened, but every character seems to be taking on a brand new identity and making his own decisions. The guy I had pegged as the hero has suddenly become the villain, and the woman he loves is rapidly developing feelings for his best friend — which means he will probably end up killing his best friend — he’s already entertained the idea — and maybe even offing the woman as well.”
“But does it matter who ends up being the villain and the hero — I mean — as long as you have one of each, it’ll come out even, right?”
Neville chuckled. “Well, it’s not quite that easy. My publisher assigned me a contract to do a specific kind of story. One that will be a believable sequel to my last three novels. They were moneymakers, and I’d hate to mess up a record like that. I spent the money I made on them, and now I need more.” He rubbed his face agitatedly again. “Besides that, I’d be breaking my contract if I didn’t give them what I guaranteed.”
“MmMmm, you do have a problem,” Clarence said, so engulfed in the conversation now that he just sat right down at the table beside Neville. They both sat in silence for a moment, and then Clarence asked, “Well, why don’t you just delete all that part that changed and go back to your first chapter and start over on the story you intended to write. That would take care of it wouldn’t it?”
“Well, that’s the other problem. I’ve totally lost track of the story I intended to write … and besides ….” He paused and glanced off to the side, lost in thought for a long moment. Clarence waited, figuring Neville was trying to work out a plan.
Suddenly Neville looked back at Clarence with a smile on his face. He looked serene rather than agitated, and Clarence was a little confused. “You figure something out? How to stop this runaway story?”
“Nope,” Neville said, grinning wider. “I’m not going to stop this story, Clarence.”
“Huh?”
Neville reached over and rested his hand on Clarence’s shoulder. “Clarence, my boy, I’ve made a decision. I’m going to give this story my whole heart and soul and let it lead me wherever it wants to go.”
“But what about your contract and all?”
“Blast the contract,” Neville said, beginning to close up his laptop and slip his notes into his briefcase. “If that publisher can’t see the truth about the value of this story, then he can sue me.”
“But –”
“No more ‘but’s‘ my boy,” Neville answered, rising from his chair, laptop under his arm. “This is the best damn story I’ve ever written in my life, and I’ve just decided I’m free enough to give my creativity its own head and let it take me to my destiny.”
He slapped down his last five dollar bill as a tip for Clarence and headed out the door, whistling.
To participate visit Daily Post.
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I have much to share about today’s Daily Post prompt: heal. And the best way I know to do that is to share two links. The first is a video reading of Chapter One of my book Healing Is For You! I hope it encourages and lifts all my readers. The second link is to the Amazon page where you can find the book in paperback or digital, in case you’d like your own copy.
Now, have a blessed and healthy day!
You can click on the book to go to the Amazon store and purchase a copy.
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MEANINGLESS WORDS
Meaningless words are so absurd.
The most absurd I’ve ever heard.
Now, I don’t mean to be a nerd;
And insult I have not inferred.
But, really, when I’m quite unstirred
By words whose meanings are deferred,
My reading seems like riding herd
On crazy cattle who’ve been spurred.
All sanity and sense are slurred
By meaningless words that are absurd.
You can take part in today’s prompt by visiting Daily Post
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Labels:
We all wear them.
Some of them we give ourselves,
The rest come from the judgment of
Others.
I’ve learned,
As I’ve matured,
To focus on the good
And just ignore derogatory
Labels.
Life’s short,
And can be sweet,
But only if we learn
To quite ignore all labels that
Oppress.
Visit here to participate in the prompt.
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I have a lovely rhythm in my bones.
It’s sort of soft and groovy, and beguiling.
I’m in the mood for waltzing over stones,
And even if I fell, I’d come up smiling.
It’s now becoming kind of quick and quirky –
This rhythm – as it runs throughout my soul.
My feet are tapping now – a little jerky;
And there’s no stopping me; I’m on a roll.
I got up feeling tired and kind of lazy,
But then I thought about the guy I love.
That’s all it took to jump-start this great rhythm;
It’s put me in top form and in the groove.
To participate in the prompt visit Daily Post.
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AD INFINITUM
My love for you, dear one, is infinite.
You cannot measure it in pounds or inches.
Math equations can’t unlock its depth.
Its volume goes beyond the range of liters,
And years and centuries fall short of accuracy.
In truth, there’s just no way to estimate
How vast and how eternal what I feel.
All I can say is that when this life ends,
I’ll still be loving you with all I am.
And on into infinity, the same.
To participate in the prompt visit the Daily Post.
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Today’s Daily Post Prompt reminded me instantly of a poem I originally wrote for a writer’s group challenge in September of 2012. But since it fits today’s prompt perfectly, I see no reason not to resurrect it and let it shine again now.
I AM A RAINDROP
I am a raindrop.
I’m falling quickly and cannot stop,
So I’m looking for place to plop.
I don’t know where I’d like to be,
But I definitely don’t want to land in the sea.
You see, if I were to land in the sea,
It would be so anti-climactic for me;
I would lose my personal identity,
Even I would no longer recognize me.
No, I must find some place solid instead.
Perhaps on a daisy in a flower bed,
Or a plant so parched it’s almost dead,
Or the page of a book that’s being read.
I must decide as fast as I can;
I’m falling quickly toward some folks on the sand.
So many are out there just getting a tan.
Hello, there, little bald-headed man!
His head sure was tempting, but then a breeze blew,
And drove me off course; what am I to do?
Oh, I see it! I see it! My target’s in view!
Get ready; get ready; I’m landing on you!
Plop!
^^^
FIGURING IT OUT
I like to have my cake and eat it too.
That makes me sound a spoiled brat,
Quite through and through.
But I’m not really spoiled, just practical.
And firmly I believe if we desire a thing,
Investing all our heart into imagining,
We’ll come up with a plan to make our dreams come true.
Why, my solution’s simple, really – quite the thing:
I’ve learned that if I plan ahead and bake me two,
It’s possible to have my cake and eat it too.
***
It’s even better with coffee.
Check out Daily Post here for details about participating.
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To join the challenge, visit The Daily Post for today.
LOVE’S SIGHT
Some say
That love is blind.
Not so. Instead I find
True love seeks out and focuses
On good.
THE EYES HAVE IT
A smile
Upon the lips,
Can hide ill feelings well.
But sincere smiles will shine out of
The eyes.
WINK, WINK
Hey, guy,
You’ve caught my eye.
You’re just the man for me.
It’s time to kiss those other girls
Goodbye.
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I know the Daily Post Prompt says to write a “new” post on the day’s topic, but I’m going to ignore those instructions. I’ve actually posted most of these pictures in a couple posts for other reasons — and I wrote the poem for a totally different challenge earlier this year. However, they fit the theme so perfectly that I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share both again. The pictures are works that I created using two of my own photographs of the moon, taken at totally different times, and I have used them to create a whole line of greeting cards called “Moonglow.”
MOONSTRUCK
Well, now, you lovely silver orb
Rising nightly, taking up your throne
To rule the sky amidst your starry entourage,
You have the power to stir men’s souls
And capture their imaginations —
Fostering mysteries, romantic notions,
Ghostly tales, and lovers’ secrets.
But how you’ve gained so grand a place
Within the minds of earthly men is quite beyond me.
For truly you are but a piece of rock
With lustrous filaments that cause you to reflect another’s light.
With no light of your own to boast
And no control of how you make your way across the sky,
I fail to see why you should be the root of so much poetry —
Or epic tales — or artistry.
You’re just a great reflector,
And all your beauty’s lent you by the sun.
Yet, still you manage with your borrowed lumens
To capture hearts and minds.
And so ’twill be as long as time shall run
That men, in word and song and artist’s brush,
Will make of you a symbol of their highest expectations,
And set you as the goal for which they reach
As they attempt to soar beyond their realm of dust.
And I suppose in that respect, you do deserve some praise.
For were it not for you, perhaps there’s many a man who would have trod this earth
And failed to lift his eyes to higher heights and deep desires.
So shine on, silver orb,
And carry on your glorious procession
Each night across the sky.
For generations yet of pioneers, adventurers, and lovers too
Will need your light to inspire their hearts to dream —
Then strive to make those lovely dreams come true.
~~~
To take part in the challenge, visit Daily Post.
My muse
Went for a snooze.
Left me to write alone.
And although on my own,
I wrote great stuff.
Aha! I’ve learned I don’t need him at all.
“Dear Muse,
You snooze; you lose.
You’re fired.”
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The Happy Wordcrafter 