Dance with the clouds.
Walking this path more often than not gasping for breath, it feels possible.
If I just make it that final mile, those last few steps for ascension, impossible seems inevitable.
The sun has moved, it’s no longer rising.
My legs have tremors pulsing from thigh to toe.
What if this is it?
I am only meant to witness, not participate.
Would it bring fulfillment enough?
NaNoWriMo is coming, can you believe it’s 7 days until go time?
I can’t believe it but I have started to tentatively lay out a storyline and/or plot, it depends on how you want to view it. No more than a page or two just to give me something to run with once the clock strikes midnight.
How many of you are participating this year?
This will be my 5th and I have won 3 out of the last 4 times.
This one will be a bit more difficult than the last few attempts. I will be updating this blog, traveling to California for a week and keeping my beer blog regularly updated.
Check the link below to see the fun things we will be doing with Authors and Beers for the month of November – I would appreciate the support there too (go ahead and give it a follow), you guys have been so great on this blog.
Beer and Writing | What To Look For In November
Want to write with me?
My NaNo name is Liah2131
Anyone doing something new and different this year to increase their chances of winning? I am always on the hunt for tips for success.
In the middle of revision on my memoir, hoping to get a round done before NaNoWriMo and it’s rough – just keep writing…. and editing
My sorrow, when she’s here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.
(Photo by A)
Early morning, late at night.
I heard someone talking about you again.
Unlike most he spoke in reverence of your peace, of your creative space.
Spoke out of love – no one else is around, up during your moment each day.
I haven’t visited in a while.
I have no excuses – only lies to me.
I need to stay up or get up.
4am the time for poetry, novels, stories and if I am lucky, the perfect sentence.
Every cloud is a piece of your puzzle.
You can try to capture it or
Be grateful to witness it.
Only when I am trying to shut off my thoughts does my subconscious dance freely.
It’s a game we both play – a wicked dance.
When I need you or want you – you can’t help but saunter off into the corner.
Tucked away in comfort, drifting towards dreams you pull me out of bed.
A single scene, a glib piece of dialogue or a character that I know I’ve met but can’t place.
All entertainment, value and stories I need to hear but they don’t exist.
How can it be?
How can I put them down in words?
It will become an obsession –
It will eventually torment me –
Maybe that will be enough.