The lighting flashed around my house like I was the target of a first-class smiting. For an eerie moment, the world outside was lit so that it felt like day in the night.
It was pure grace and power; I could feel the thunder under my feet, a scary and exhilarating feeling. The illusions that we are cut off from nature, but in truth are completely and utterly surrounded by it.
The rains have cooled off the horrible humidness, the type of dry that makes everything and it's uncle stick together. I've often thought of pulling a Joan of Arc and simply chopping off my hair that has gotten almost waist length.
I'm not sure how the women of the past have dealt with heat, and the horrid problem of long hair. Rapunzel must have been suicidal.
I find myself half-wishing that the summer was already over. Funny, as summer used to be a favorite season. I'm just ready to move on, in more then one since of the word. It's more then wishing for good luck, I have to go and seek it.
Have recently been hounded for a manuscript for The Tenth Hour or Andrais, two non-real books that I have written in my head, but my hand refuses to pen them. It feels like all the good stories have already been told, and I would give anything to have people's opinion of what stories I have that I should write first.
Someone once told me to write the book I wanted to read. I once thought that I could do that once I found myself, once I understood who I was and would be able to write in my own style without fear. It hasn't been that simple.
I could write the whole thing, and it never see the light of day at the publishers.
If I could, I would write about worlds re-discovered, the power of perseverance through the darkness, and ties that bind, be it good or evil. The human condition is one theme that shows itself in all works.
Currently I have a "book" called The Tenth Hour, about a writer/printer in 1888 London who unwillingly becomes a part of an elite and powerful group called the Committee. Later in modern day he falls in-love with a woman who he must kill.
Long story short, a vampire book.
Andrais is a book I have held close to my heart since high school. About three siblings who find that they are really from a land that no one knows exists except in myth. One brother will be doomed to tear it apart, another to save it.
One, that I have recently come to think of, is about Merlin. That he fell in-love with Morgan even though it was forbidden for their order, resulting in a child. Once again re-visiting the classic Arthurian tales with hopefully some new twists.
I have the horrible sneaking feeling that I have unknowingly taken something from somewhere, and I can't stand not to be original.
I feel like pleading with the muses to send me inspiration and courage. Goodness knows that if I sold something I could afford to live. But more then that it's so much of who I am, as a soul needing to tell a story to live.
There is some beautiful unknown power to being able to publish a book, the feeling that your voice is out there telling your story.
I only hope that someday I'll have something worth telling, and an audience to hear it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~My Cell Phone Art [link]