Okay, so there’s this songwriter/musician I follow on Instagram and am a little obsessed with. (His work, not him!) Recently he’s been posting these amazing pictures of new songs he’ll be coming out with this year. They’re all neatly handwritten in a really cool looking journal with rough-edged, linen-like paper, and they brought back memories of trying to handwrite stories and poems in my own journals back before I progressed to a typewriter and then to a Brother word processor and finally to my MacBook.
I decided I should try handwriting again. So I’ve been carrying around a journal (mine is lined because my handwriting goes hopelessly uphill if I have no guides). I’m not exactly sure why, but poetry eluded me for some time while I carried that journal. I think it was fear. I think I was honestly afraid that if I tried to write something in a journal, I wouldn’t be able to do it.
Last night, just as I was supposed to begin making dinner, inspiration finally struck and I rushed for my journal and a pen and started writing. What came out of my pen isn’t exactly what inspiration whispered to me, but I don’t think I did too badly. It’s definitely different writing on paper and not as easy for my inner editor to make me rethink things. A good pen makes a huge difference. I like this one, but it’s one I picked up at my dentist’s, so it may not last long. I’ve never liked writing with a pencil (too scratchy), but I may try that next time.
I haven’t even titled this poem, either. I hope I can read it when I go to transcribe it onto the computer. My handwriting isn’t awful, but as you can see, my inner editor did kick in once or twice, resulting in a few scratch-outs.
What this experience did remind me of was that I didn’t start taking my own writing seriously UNTIL I had a computer. Until I could sit in front of a screen and type my words in and erase as necessary and have a finished product that looked like it should, I was almost literally frozen creatively. I had ideas, but when I sat down to write them, they poofed away.
Is my inner editor that strong? Did it keep me from being creative for years by whispering to me that my ideas wouldn’t turn out right if I wrote them out on a legal pad? If so, what would happen to me tomorrow if the EMP finally happens? If all computers are wiped out, will it take my creativity with it?
Maybe I better try writing in that journal more often.
I’ve been entering contests, so I haven’t had much to put up here recently since most contests won’t accept previously published poetry. I wrote this one this morning, though. because my daffodils are already starting to bloom, and I decided I should share it here instead of trying for fame.
Taking the Lead
By Michelle Garren Flye
There’s always one to emerge before winter’s done.
Poking bright petals out to the sun, as if no one will care.
It seems as if the cold air should bring on despair
But you must lead the way, the charge before spring
When there’s still too much bite for the robin’s wing.
Why come out now, oh, little yellow flower?
Why stick your neck out before the seasons change?
Don’t you know you have no real power
And your appearance now is nothing but strange?
The frost will still nip you back when you bud.
But maybe you’re here to bring hope to us all.
Maybe your courage will stir all our blood!
Why wait for the rest of the world to stand tall?
There must be one to lead the way
To hold up the standard and show that we care.
That first soldier marches so we have one to follow
Like the little yellow flower that doesn’t mind cold air
I try never to let the winter solstice pass unnoticed. Of course I was asleep at 5:30 a.m. or whatever ungodly hour the solstice actually happened, but today is one of my favorite days.
The shortest day of the year.
I’ve watched the days get shorter since the summer solstice (you really can notice it after a week or two). Once daylight savings runs out, it’s really noticeable. Suddenly I have to hurry to walk my dog before it gets dark.
And then you get to today. The shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere at least. And that means tomorrow it will be light longer. Today is not a day of darkness. It is a day of promise.
Tomorrow will be brighter.
With that in mind, I thought I would share the first bit of something from my next comic, SeaGlass. Because that’s my promise. I’ll finish another comic next year.
I haven’t put anything up here in a while, but I’m hard at work. I’ve been writing, poetry mainly, but the second comic book is starting to take shape. Rekka and Kat will be back. You’ll find out a bit more about them in the second issue. My poetry is getting better, I think. I can’t always share it because I’m entering poetry contests and the rules say “no previously published work” in most of those. My blog counts as “previously published”, I guess (rolls eyes), so I can’t share stuff I want to enter into contests here. Which severely limits me for both!
I wrote this one the other day and decided I’d rather put it on here than enter it into a contest. I don’t know why. It just seemed right somehow. Maybe something is telling me there’s someone out there who needs to hear it right now.
So goes one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite musicians. I’ve loved this song since I first heard it…well, last week. It took me a whole week to realize how appropriate this song actually was.
You see, I think those words are very true for most humans. We’re not called a “race” for nothing. All my life, I’ve been racing for one thing or another. To get an education, to get a good job, to have a family, to reach a point in my life where I’m totally fulfilled. Waiting to arrive. I’ve been lucky enough to achieve many of my goals. Some have escaped me. One in particular—to create a story that will capture the imagination of more than me—still dances just out of my reach.
But I’ve reached a point in my life where I wonder if maybe that might not be best.
Alan Shepard, the first man in space, emerged from his capsule and said, “Man, what a ride.” He’d achieved his dream. He’d been to space. Guess what he did then? He started trying to get back to space. In 1971, he commanded Apollo 14 on its mission to the moon, where he became one of the few who have walked on that gloriously inhospitable surface.
Man, what a ride.
I will never stop trying to string together words and now pictures to make that story that will suddenly become the story everyone wants to know. It’s my journey. I may never reach the end of it, but I have to believe there’s a reason I’m on it. Maybe when I reach my end, I’ll know for sure what that reason was. In the meantime, I’m just going to enjoy the ride.
The first review is in on Hourglass! And it’s good. As an author I can always appreciate when other authors talk about breathing a sigh of relief when they get the first good feedback on their books. I mean, we all know our creation is great. Fantastic, even. Doesn’t even matter what you think.
But we still wait for the reviews.
Well, my first one is in, and it’s five stars. Imagine, if you will, how relieved I was. Graphic novel/comic book is a bit of a stretch for me, a romance writer and poet. Plus, I’m just not sure what to call this thing, either. Too short to be a graphic novel, based on my poetry, not really a comic book… It’s like an illustrated poetry book with a storyline to tie the poems together.
Anyway, my very kind reviewer said this about my baby book: “filled with stunning art, photography, and poetry, and the message is lovely.”
Picture the big grin on my face when I read that! Actually, no need to picture it. Here you go:
I hope you’ll decide to try out Hourglass. Someone called it my “passion project”, and they’re not wrong. I want to be good at this. I want to publish comic books where every page is a work of art. I don’t know if I’m capable of that yet, but I’m gonna keep on trying.
In the meantime, if you read Hourglass, maybe you can give me an idea of how YOU think I should market it. But definitely let me know what you think.