Novel Update: Folded Dreams

...and then...and then???

…and then…and then???

Things are dragging a bit with Folded Dreams – not because the ideas aren’t there, but because I can’t seem to find the places the notions belong! Writing a novel can be, at best, tricky and at worst, discouraging. My experience at this stage of the game includes both – and every emotional thing in between.

I’ve received an awful lot of encouragement from so many people, both readers and writers alike, and wonderful ideas on how to get back on track. There’s timelines, rough notes, “just write” (which actually works, by the way!) and the advice of saving editing until last. That’s the one that I have trouble with – that’s the one that takes up the time and puts me into a deep, blue funk.

But I plod along, hoping to catch a bit of inspiration here and there – something that will replace that 15W bulb in my brain with a bright, strobing 150W, 1 million candle power lantern which will flare into life over my grey matter and kick start me into a flurry of productivity.

Folded Dreams will still not likely be finished before Christmas, but a novel takes time, doesn’t it? especially if  you want it to be good. Which I do. Maybe I’ll have something else ready by then, though. Who knows? Stranger things have happened!

(By the way, I’ve finished with my review on M Press of Ire, by Roger Moore. This book is the original to “The Empress of Ireland“, which is now available on Amazon both in print and on Kindle. Read the review. Get the book!!

Collection: Roger Moore – Poet

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To quote the filler text on WordPress, “This is an example of a short post”, which is to say, I have a collection of books by the poet, Roger Moore and in the next few days I will be making a fairly long overview of these books. This is not that post. 😏

Be that as it may, it is my eventual intention to try and review them, one at a time. And I say “try”, because I’ve never reviewed poetry before, so it should be an interesting exercise!

 

20160928_003549Anyway, these are the books that I have so far (with many thanks to my fellow old fossil😁), but the actual reviews may show them differently, as they appear on Amazon.

 

Three little books = ‘Beddy-bye’ reading!

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Because I love books. But my nightstand has been empty of nighttime books for beddy-bye reading. And then this lil’ parcel comes in the mail. Three little chap books. Poetry. Prose. By Roger Moore.

I was going to wait ’til bedtime, but I couldn’t resist. It’s September and a book All About Angels is fitting.

 

 

“He arrived in a fanfare of colour

blessing the world with a rainbow

oranges and lemons

suspended in water….

…when he left us

our world turned upside down…”

 

 

 . . . s – i – g – h . . .

Thanks.

 

All About Angels ©2009 by Roger Moore.

All About Angels ©2009 by Roger Moore.

Empress: A Survivor Lights a Candle – by Roger Moore

(Another favourite contemporary poet. If you’ve not read him before….you should. pk)

rogermoorepoetdotcom

Empress 233.jpg

A Survivor Lights a Candle
During the Latin Mass for the Dead
Before the Main Altar
at the Sanctuaire Sainte-Anne
Pointe-au-Père

I am afraid of fire:

 in principio erat verbum /
in the beginning was the word.

 I am afraid of the loud voice of the match
scratching its sudden flare,

narrowing my pupils,
enlarging the whites of my eyes:

 et lux in tenebris lucet /
and light shines in darkness.

Booming and blooming,
igniting the soul’s dark night.

Voice of fire:

et Deus erat verbum /
and the Word was God.

 Flourishing to nourishment,
flames whispering on the flood:

omnia per ipsum facta sunt /
all things were made by Him.

Wool and water,
this sodden safety blanket;
and what of the cold plush

of the pliant teddy bear,
the staring eyes of the doll:

et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt /
and the darkness comprehended it not.

The lashes…

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Thoughts & Inspiration – God, Bob Ross & Roger Moore

"Happy little clouds"!

“Happy little clouds”!

My husband got into an accident a few days ago and wound up with five fractured ribs. While this may have been great inspiration for the writer of a medical novel, it better suited me to take a few days off from writing. So I  spent this week contemplating life, art, God, writing and Roger Moore, poet 😏

Now, the day after hubby got busted up, I took a walk to the corner store, about 3/4 mile away. I’ve not spent much time outside lately because of a nagging, sometimes debilitating health issue, so I was really soaking up the sun and fresh air on my way there. The sky was beautiful behind the various types of clouds floating around, and the sun was wonderfully brilliant, though it hurt my eyes even with my ‘blu-blocker’ sunglasses on.

Nature is beautiful; regardless of 97° heat and humidity, it never ceases to be awe inspiring. The slight whooshing sound as a breeze travels through a stand of Australian pine, cicadas singing so loudly that you can barely hear yourself think, watching the changing shapes of the clouds looming over the tree tops and the rainbow colours that appear where the clouds drift in front of the sun…well, let’s face it – God is indeed the Master Artist.

On my way back home, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the sky. With the sun at my back, it was much easier to study all those wonderful, blooming, bright white clouds that were slowly mixing with the angry looking storm clouds heading in from the west. Iridescent pastels and golds never disappear, even when they are overlaid with a myriad of values of grey.

Who hasn’t looked at clouds and seen pictures! I saw a porcupine, a pig, a woman’s head with one of those Greek  goddess style upswept hair-do’s and at the top of a particularly spectacular configuration, I even saw a replica of one of those huge statues of Christ the Redeemer, like the one in the Andes Mountains, between Argentina and Chile, just south of Mt. Aconcagua (nearly the same as the one we’ve seen on television during this year’s Olympics in Brazil). I mean, watching these clouds billow into forms just made me smile.

They seemed like such happy little clouds…hmmm.

Does anyone remember Bob Ross? He was a wonderful artist, well known even to this day because of his decade long television series, “The Joy of Painting”. He was then, and still is today (although he passed away from cancer many decades ago), famous for adding, as he put it, “happy little clouds” and “happy little trees” to his paintings (Melody Sheep/PBS did a music mix, “Bob Ross: Happy Little Clouds” here). Studying the sky that day, a random, perhaps nonsensical, thought occurred to me that God was ready for another assistant to share His status as Master Artist, so He invited Bob Ross to join his wife in heaven, just so we might all still be able to enjoy his happy little clouds!

I seem to be able to find inspiration in abundance, through my own thoughts and memories or by sheer chance…like when I’m “introduced” to people via social media or through my blog here. Sometimes it’s because of personal interaction with others, sometimes it’s because I have been touched by another’s writing.

My most recent ‘for instance’ was day before yesterday when I really spent time reading the works of contemporary poet, Roger Moore (no, not the erstwhile “007” – – – the other Roger Moore!). I was so entranced that I Googled him and wound up reading far more than he shares on his blog. In fact, I found myself so engrossed in his short stories, prose and poetry that before I knew it, I had spent 3 hours in the the company of his work…and gained much inspiration for my book(s).

Now, Roger Moore, art, ‘happy little clouds’, memories and God are not the only places I find inspiration. I don’t just follow bloggers, tweeters and posters…I read what you all write. I have found that my time on the internet would be very dull without you!

Suite Ste. Luce 11-14 /14

(…such lovely images in my mind right now…)

rogermoorepoetdotcom

fundy 05 mist+wolfepipers 081.jpg“Though lovers be lost, love shall not;
and Death shall have no Dominion.”
Dylan Thomas 

Suite Ste. Luce
11-14 / 14

11

The beach compacts
smaller and smaller.

The tide jostles
sand pipers
into a dwindling world:

this shrinking pocket
handkerchief
of sand.

12

Happy the kite’s face
with its child
dangling far below.

Kite bounces up and down
on a tight-rope of air.

Below it, the child
walking the beach,
nose to the wind,
obedience on a leash.

The kite wags
its long, bright tail.

13

When the mist thickens,
it closes a window in the sky.

The church on the headland
steps plainly into sight,
and fades again.

The old man wraps himself
in a cloak of rain.

Suddenly, the sun
drapes itself,
a golden sou’wester,
over his head.

14

Summer lies abandoned
under rain-soaked umbrellas.

Red bucket, bright blue spade.

Childhood,
cast away:
a pair of sandals

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