Perceptions and Illusions

My brain needed a lot of stretching before it would work again, so I was unable to make myself write Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday.

But today I had success. Here is a section of what I did today. It is the first part of Chapter 1 of a new book. It is a rough draft. There will be a few rewrites before it is in the final form. The working title is "Fair Game".
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Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

"Not now!” Autumn muttered as she placed her foot on the first step of the staircase. “I don’t have time to dig through my backpack to find my phone. I don’t want to be late the first day.”

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

“Another one? It must be important. No one sends two texts in a row unless it is important.”

She paused at the bottom of the wide staircase and looked to the top. Once she got into the school, her cell would have to stay hidden in her backpack. The school had a strict policy about cell phone use within the building. If she were caught with her phone out, even if she were just reading a text, her phone would be confiscated.

“Maybe I should check. It could be important. I still have time. I won’t be late if I hurry—"

The backpack of a passing student slammed into her, making her twirl around and lose her balance. As Autumn spun on one leg, she tried to regain her balance by stomping the raised foot hard to the ground—right on the foot of a huge boy with frizzy hair.

The very same boy who had been so inconsiderate to slam into her.

The mass of muscles grabbed his foot and groaned. “What do you think you are doing, you klutz! That hurt.”

Autumn just stood there paralyzed. This boy could easily crush her like a bug.

“Aren’t you going to say you are sorry?” the mountain sneered, still looking at his aching foot.

Autumn gulped, and looked down to hide the fear that had begun to course through her body. Was she going to be trammeled on her first day of school? Autumn was not a fighter, and if this boy decided to start punching she wouldn’t have a chance.

“Well, where is your apology, little girl?” growled the angry giant. “You stomped on my foot!”

Autumn hated to be called little, but decided to let it slide. Every muscle in her body told her that she was in danger and needed to think her way out of this situation. She cautiously raised her head an inch to peek at the mass of students around her. Several were looking her way curiously, but none seemed prepared to help if it got ugly.

She was on her own. A rare occurrence for Autumn. She was the youngest of four.

Thinking quickly, Autumn remembered several books she had read that implied that a bully was a coward who was trying to convince himself, and everyone else, that he was a rough tough bad guy who was afraid of nothing. The trick was to stand up to the bully from day one so that he realized that you weren’t easy prey. If you showed fear, or any sign of weakness, you would become a prime target on the bully’s radar. A sure set-up for terror and fear on a daily basis.

But reading that bullies were cowards and acting on it were two different things—very different. What if she stood up to him and he punched her? He was twice her size, he could do some serious damage.

“So what’s it going to be little girl? Are you going to apologize, or do I need to teach you some manners?”

Autumn took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and looked the bully straight in the eye.
“You only got what you deserved, you big oaf. I was minding my own business when you knocked me over with your oversized backpack. Why don’t you learn how to watch where you are going?”

The bully stared at Autumn’s face for several minutes, no expression whatsoever showing on his face. It was as if all his thoughts had retreated into an inner fortress, possibly to regroup.

Without another word, the giant turned on his heal and continued up the staircase, shoving anyone unfortunate to be in his path out of his way.

Labels: Fair Game, writing

Yesterday I awoke with the desire to get out my computer and immerse myself in a new story. It was a glorious feeling, one that I have missed these last few months. I really haven't written since November--I have been going through a dry spell.

I find Sundays not good days for writing, so I pushed aside the craving to write and went about my day. Rather crankily, I must admit. Monday would be the day to begin again. Monday morning bright and early I could flex those mental muscles and dive into the wonderful world of imagination.

I could barely wait!

Well, today is Monday and my mental muscles remain unflexed. I simply cannot get started. I have been at my computer for over an hour and have not written a single word.

I have checked my email, read a few web articles, given my opinion about the worst book I have ever read--and updated this blog.

But the story--the one that is aching to be written--remains locked away.

To be honest, I'm not too awfully worried, yet. I have been through this before, so I know what to do. I simply need to stretch out those poor muscles that have been unused for the last few months. Loosen them up a bit. Do a little freewriting, brainstorming, or...or...or something.

Come on brain! You can do it! Get that circulation flowing. Move those thoughts around.

You have had a long enough vacation, it is time to get back to work.

There is a book to be written.

Labels: life, writing

Eeeeek! I have an emergency. A book emergency.

It is Viridia. I checked on the little fella today, and was shocked to find that it had gone into a deep decline. I had no clue it was feeling so depressed.

Well, to be honest, I didn't even know that books could get depressed. I thought they just sat happily on shelves waiting to be read.

But look for yourself. Viridia is in such a bad shape that I could barely recognize it.

I feel so guilty. It is all my fault. I asked loads of people to review Braumaru and Cerulea, but Viridia got left out, neglected, and pushed aside.

There is only one thing to do, one way to bring Viridia back from the brink. But I cannot do it myself. I need your help.

It is a dangerous mission, but if you have courage I know you will succeed.
Viridia can be saved.

All you need to do is write a review on Amazon. Show Viridia that you care.

And since Viridia is a green book, you will be helping our planet be a little greener, so we all win!

Labels: Behold the Eye, family, frivolity, life, myth or reality, Viridia

Labels: book cover, DTA, publishing

I--like many people in this big bad world--have had my share of times I trusted the wrong person. Times I took a person at his/her word, and believed that that person would act in a manner consistent with my moral code.

Only to have my faith in humanity cracked and my heart broken just a bit.

Silly of me, I know, since I am old enough to know better. It is one of the lessons that children learn while still in school.

One instance I remember vividly did happen in school--only it was college, not elementary school.

Once upon a time, in a far away land called the University of Washington, I was studying to be an archaeologist. I had the good fortune to get into a practicuum at the Burke Museum, and I was having a blast. I loved every minute of it. The comraderie of the students and teachers, the professional atmosphere in the archaeology lab--but I especially loved that I got a chance to curate a 1949 field school all by myself. It was heavenly.

In the spring, we went on an overnight field trip to Odette, an archaeological site on Neah Bay. To get there we had to drive for several hours, park our van, and hike 4 hours out to the site, which was right on the water. We were all warned to bring plenty of water, since there was nothing at our campsite by sand, mud, and trees. If we wanted something, we had to hike it in.

I had prepared for the trip carefully. As a mother of 4, I was used to making sure that I had everything I could possible need. Change of clothing, check. Snacks, check. A gallon of water, check. Tent, check. Sleeping bag, check.

I was ready.

As I was repacking my backpack in preparation to begin the 4 hour hike, one of my classmates, a young man of about 22, voiced concern about the heaviness of my pack. He said that he was used to hiking with a pack, and that he would gladly lighten my load.

Right on top was my gallon of water. He pointed to the water, and said that he could easily add that to his pack, and he would be glad to transport it for me to the campsite.

I looked at him and noted that he seemed to be an athletic guy, and since he was at least 8 inches taller and 40 pounds heavier, he probably would be better able to handle the weight of the water. Besides, I had a couple of smaller bottles with me for the hike, so I thanked him and handed over the water.

The hike was exhilirating and beautiful. For the sake of convenience, we split up and all went at our own pace. Although I was not even close to the first of the group to make it to the site, I was proud to discover that I was far from the last person. I held my own.

I set up my tent and unpacked my backpack. Noticing that I had drunk all of the water I had carried on the walk, I went in search of the nice young man who had offered to carry my main supply of water.

Imagine my dismay when I found him, and he informed me that he had drunk it all. The entire gallon.

I had no water the rest of the day, no water that night, and no water for the 4 mile hike back to our vans.

A crack reverbrated through my very being as a new crevice formed its way across my faith in humanity, and through my heart.

Which didn't help my thirst one bit.

But who could I blame, but myself. I was old enough to know better.

Labels: history, life, myth or reality, world