Greetings Once Again From the Void…
I’m writing this at quarter to four in the morning, taking a break from a depression-induced manic streak. I should be wrapping up my daily writing around this time, but my writing has suffered from motivation problems over the last couple of weeks. This is not writer’s block; I have plenty to say, should I actually take the time to sit in front of the keyboard, but I have had a hard time of late being able to bring myself to do so. My particular cycle of depression and anxiety are best helped by writing in any form, and this has come to affect my writing process, becoming in fact a part of the process itself. The interruptions are rare – as I’ve said, I do not ever really suffer from writer’s block in the conventional sense – but they do happen, and this has delayed the completion of my current novel.
I had hoped to complete two books in 2021, but the second of the two works has turned out to be more of a project than I originally anticipated. Currently, the new manuscript draft sits at forty-five complete chapters, and 116k words, and there could be as many as 50k more words to go. I do a hybrid pantser/plotter process, so my notes give me a direction, but allow room for the Muse to roam where she likes. This time around, however, I am required to do more fine-tuning on the third act, and the nature of the story requires more research than I’ve ever done before, which I can but hope is a good thing, as it means I am attempting to leave my comfort zone as a writer.
Will all the effort be worth it? Time will tell, I guess.
Until next time,
As some may know, I indulge in writing (bad) poetry from time to time. Different things inspire artists in different ways – and in my case, it most often takes the form of writing. I write my bad poetry when inspired by the Muse, as I do my novels, and although I feel my poetry is ghastly in comparison to my prose, I feel the urge to share it with those who bother to follow my blog, so I’ll be posting them here from time to time.
The following poem was inspired by a person, and if said person realizes it’s about them, I apologize for the poor writing. Shakespeare I ain’t, boys and girls.
But my heart, what there is of it, is in the right place.
ANGEL OF THE NORTH
A shining Muse, an Angel in the North
Let your spirit flow, your radiance come forth
That heavenly smile, those verdant eyes
That shelter a spirit wounded by lies
Healing now, shining, to bathe in that grace
Lucky be the man that beholds your face
A beautiful soul among the celestial constellation,
To that being I give my love and admiration
No thoughts of possession, no feelings of lust
Nothing impure, so selfish or unjust
Just a hopeless romantic, enchanted from afar
Whose life is brighter because of what you are
May you always know love, and be able to shine
May the spirit inside be untouched by time
May you always be free, and a little wild,
May you always nurture that inner child
May you dance and laugh and love your life
May your days be bright and free of strife
May you find your way along the path
And those that hurt you suffer a warrior’s wrath
May your days be long, your love run deep
And the Goddess protect you as you sleep
May you know you will be my friend
For all the days, now until the end
~So Mote It Be
Yeah, Yeah, I know.
But, the Muse has a whip, and I gladly do her bidding.
Blame it on the Muse.
I decided to work on a new design for this site utilizing some WordPress skills. Pardon the mess while I recreate the original content on the new site.