My Writing Life (Journey To Me)

My Writing Life (Journey To Me)

I usually start the story of my creative life with dance class and then go into my experiences with musical theater. It’s easy for me to gloss over my early writing experience.

There are three reasons I do this. The first reason is that although my grammar and spelling were not great creative writing came naturally to me. I don’t remember any lessons about how to write poetry or short stories in elementary school or early middle school. However, I do remember writing a story when I was 10 about a 10-year-old girl.

The second reason for never focusing on my early writing life is because I never felt it was important. It was always just something I did. I hardly ever shared my stories with people. Since I didn’t share my writing I never celebrated that part of my creativity. The theater was what I celebrated and did so publicly. The writing I did was a private thing.

The third reason is my confidence in my writing was low. Sure I wrote creative things constantly, but I was never amazing in English or spelling classes. I was an average student when it came to writing assignments. Grammar and spelling are not my strong suit. I still struggle with spelling certain words, and will reread sentences to make sure they are correct. Why would I talk or share something I wasn’t good at?

The thing is whether I’m good at it or not writing is a big important part of me. It is like talking to me; I may mispronounce words or not be as eloquent as others in my speech, but it is how I communicate. It is on aspect that makes me who I am.

There is increasingly more comfortable with that aspect of me. I am a writer and will describe myself as such.

I have come along way in my writing life and now I love sharing my writing. It may not be the best, but my writing is truthfully me. I would not have it any other way.

Want More?

II have more stories that show how I became who I am. They are in the Journey to Me series. I also have stories specifically about God and of course, I wrote a book about my views and experiences with Love called To Love.

Bridge or Fall (A Poem)

bridge or fall a poem

I’ve walked to the ledge
fears shout from the edge
but my faith holds my hand
I’m ready for a fall
or the invisible bridge.

I know I may fall.
What if I do?
Wings will sprout from shoulder’s ridge.
If there be a bridge
my feet will firmly walk.
However, my future unfolds
I will breathe.
I will survive.

 

Want More?

If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio. You can also watch a few of my poetry readings.

An Ordinary Life? (Journey To Me)

an ordinary life Journey to me

I’m reading a book that has brought up living an ordinary life. In the book, an ordinary life is a bad thing. The author views it as boring and as if the person living that life is asleep. They’re not really living. For me, an ordinary life would feel the same way. I fell into a somewhat ordinary life and it suffocated me. I lost part of me.

Unlike the other author, I can see that an ordinary, quiet life that is similar to those on television may be ideal. I can see how certain people can be happy settling down, working a stable job, and simply living life.

Ordinary does not fit who I am at my core. Even when my life is primarily ordinary I look for the extraordinary. I need to keep my eyes open to the uncommon and I am grateful for those times.

Living A Unique life

Living an unique life isn’t all about traveling the world, going on strange adventures late at night, and meeting one of a kind characters. More often than not it is little stories that are not forced or expected and one of a kind routines that are all your own.

My life strays from ordinary every Saturday I spend writing my novel and the nights I spend on my visual art pieces. It becomes unique when I have to test my church’s worship leader that I will be late to serving as the sound board operator, because my landlord’s pop-belly pig is loose and trying to find non-extant treats in my bag. Also, most people don’t drive slowly calling for the same pig that found her way out of her  pen a second time, so that the pig would get back to the house.

I do travel cross country often and meet one of a kind characters even more frequently. When your eyes are open though, you’ll see everyone is a one of a kind character and we all travel, even if most of the time it’s in your mind.

My life is not for everyone, but it is perfect for me. I am grateful for my uncommon life and hope you are grateful for whatever type of life you’re living.

Want More?

If you would like to read more about my Journey To Me there is a full series on the topic. I also have more portfolio writing available too. If you want to get to know me better you can do so on Instagram , Twitter, or Facebook.

Musical Romance (Short Story)

Musical Romance short story

Your best friend, Beth, invites you to an open mic night at a local coffeehouse. It the first time Beth will sing one of her original songs in front of people, besides you and her cat, Meowers.

It thrills you to support your friend.

After you finish your shift at the call center for a tech company, you rush home to get ready. Your clothes are changed and you redo your hair. This is in record time and you meet Beth at the cozy coffeehouse.

At The Coffee House

You can smell the beans roasting and the coffee brewing from outside the door. As you enter the coffeehouse, you look around the warmly decorated room. It has two large couches facing a makeshift stage area and wood tables that are only large enough to seat four people each. 

Beth finds you and greets you with a great enormous hug, the way she does when she is nervous. As she is still squeezing you Beth stated, “You made it.” When the hug is released she tells you, “The first person is about to start. I’m fifth in line.” She straightens her red and brown floral dress that flows over her slender body.

“Of course, I made it. I wouldn’t miss this.” You look at your friend and ask, “How are you doing? Nervous?”

Beth tried to smile. “Nah, no, no. I’m fine.”

You look blankly at her and her face drops, fully revealing her nerves. “Yes, I am. I shouldn’t be, the crowd isn’t that big, but it’s my song. What if they hate it? I could mess up. What if I can’t really sing?”

“Don’t be silly. You’ll do great. Meowers and I love the song. Plus you’ve sung in front of bigger crowds than this.”

Confused, Beth asked, “When?”

“Our middle school recitals and karaoke.”

Beth shakes her head as she states, “Those don’t count. Karaoke isn’t performing and middle school ended like half a lifetime ago.”

“Still, you’ll do great.”

The Open Mic Starts

Just then the first performer takes the stage and taps on the mic. It is a sizeable round man with little hair on the top of his head, but plenty of white hair coming from his chin. He sings an old blues song as he strums on a guitar. This musician is talented and the crowd applauds him when he finishes. The next performer is a woman with pigtails and a banjo. She can’t seem to play and sing together, but struggles through the full song, anyway. The following two performers get progressively worse and the audience hardly even claps for the last man, who leaves almost in tears. His nerves won.

Beth’s Turn

It is Beth’s turn. She is nervous and starts by fumbling the first notes on her simple acoustic guitar.

You mouth, “Breathe,” to her. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. She starts again and plays her song perfectly. It is beautiful. The crowd cheers for her at the end. They are very thankful that she was a wonderful singer and the song was beautiful.

Beth makes her way back to the table where you are sitting with a giant smile on her face.

As she sits, the next act gets on stage. It is a male musician who has perfectly curly brown hair and sits on the stool, but keeps one leg on the ground. He smiles a nervous yet cute smile as he places his guitar on his lap. Once he clears his throat he says, “This is my first time here too, and I also have an original song.”

Another New Musician Sings

He sings and your eyes meet his sparkling hazel eyes. You hold eye contact with him and smile. It feels as though the room melts away and he is singing only to you. Towards the end of his song, he looks down to make sure he is playing the right notes, but is grinning widely.

At the end of the song he thanks the audience, but is looking at you when he does so. The crowd applauds him as he leaves the little platform that makes up the stage.

He walks directly to you. “Hi, I’m Matt.” He says with his hand out.

You shake his hand as you tell him, “Hi Matt, I’m Lucy. You were great.”

“Thanks. I don’t mean to be too forward, but can I join you two lovely ladies?”

Before you can answer, Beth does. “Of course, we would love that.”

The conversation quickly dies down as the last performer takes the stage. She resembles a jazz singer with her hair pinned in curls and a black fit and flare dress on. She sings a slow and soft song. It is a very loving, sweet jazz song. After she finishes, the audience claps, but starts to leave.

Matt, Beth, and you continue to talk. After half an hour Matt buys both of you cups of tea and you help him carry them over to the table.

You do not realize the time passing. As the coffee house closes, Matt asks for your number. Smiling, you give him your phone number and he sends you a quick smiley text, so you have his.

When The Coffeehouse Closes

This is the start of something new, but after a long day at work you are ready for bed.

You say goodnight to Matt at the coffee house and walk with Beth to your car, which is outside of Beth’s apartment. You say goodnight to your best friend and get in your car.

When you get home, you see that you have an unread text message from Matt. It says, “I’m glad I went to the open mic night, tonight.”

You smile as you respond with, “Me too. Goodnight.”

As you get ready for bed, another text from Matt pops up on your phone. “Goodnight.”

Want More?

If you would like to read more short stories please check out my Portfolio or perhaps you would enjoy watching readings of my work on YouTube.

My Pigpen Story (Journey To Me)

My pigpen story Journey to me

From birth to age 10 I grew up across the street from a pig farm. It was my family’s farm and my uncles ran it.

My sisters and I would run and play up on the farm. I remember climbing up on the stacked hay and talking with my sisters. We would pet the goats and watch the pigs. When my uncles, dad, or another adult was around they would pick up the little piglets to let us hold them.

Even after my family moved a town over we would visit my memere and the farm. We would still play and pet the pigs whenever we visited. We had farm shoes over my memere’s house that we would wear when the farm was muddy.

One day, when I was in middle school I brought a friend over to the farm and we played in one of the pigpens. Most of the pigs stayed away from us. We still had fun in the slippery pen. We slid and fell many times, which to a child is a fun time. 

By the time we had enough fun we were both covered in what we thought was mud. We cheerfully went back down the hill to my memere’s home. She informed us that it was not just mud and she hosed us off before we could enter her house to fully get cleaned. Typically, we just had to take off our farm shoes. This time was different, we were too messy to be allowed in the house.

My memere still reminds me about the time my friend and I got covered in pig manure.

Want More?

I have more stories that shows how I became who I am. They are in the Journey to Me series. I also have stories specifically about God and of course I wrote a book about my views and experiences with Love called To Love.

A Vacation In My Home (Journey To Me)

A Vacation In My Home

In Mid March of 2017 I had what I called “a fast from life.” I took time off work, did not watch television during the day, did not go on social media or the internet, and did a tradition fast of no food except for liquids. It was a time of reflection on life, self searching, and relaxing that lasted 5 days. In that time I wrote the following.

The First Day

It is about one o’clock on a sunny Wednesday and I hear a bird chirping in the distance . There is a gentle breeze that passes through my open windows. I am sitting on the ground of my beige living room. My back is leaning against my grey recliner and my fuzzy teal pillow. I have a teal body pillow on my lap and a sense of being home in my heart. This is only a small studio, but it is perfect for me.

The fast that it is beige is broken up with my light wood furniture, grey chair, and silver lamp in my living. My office has no structured definition, but instead of light furniture it has a black desk, a black bookcase, and a dark wood chair, but my art supply storage is a happy turquoise. Plus, there is a gallery wall of my art and the art I have collected.

My bedroom and reading nook are up a ladder in my loft.

The bathroom is huge.

There is also a kitchenette with a stove top, microwave, and an unused toaster oven.

My home is complete and my own.

It is perfect and my own paradise, which is why I’m taking a vacation here. I wanted to take time to figure out myself and a plan for my life. I need direction and to know that I’m on the path God wants me to be on. My original thought was to go away – travel.

I would not be distracted by the fact the grocery store is only 15 minutes away and there is a taco place even closer. If I traveled I won’t be reminded of all the different forms of art I play with. In that same thought I wouldn’t have my art supplies or all the projects I’m working on. Plus, why pay for a hotel when I just want to feel my pen on paper, sleep whenever I want,and read the rest of the time.

It is the first day of my fast from life and already I am liking it. I slept til 8, had a massage, and read 6 chapters in the Bible. I am very relaxed and peaceful. This is how I want to start this experimental fast that will be focused on God’s future for me.

For the next 5 days if my mind wonders I’ll let it. It is free to roam the forest of my thoughts, but I will also put it to work while it is near. This way I will remain calm and relaxed while I pray and search for what God will have me do.

After The Fast

This was the first day of the fast and by the end I had a rough plan. I had things I would be giving up and things that I would be adding to my life.

As I review the list of changes, I am noticing that some of the negative things crept back into my life. Thankfully, all except for one have been removed again. I am working on most of the positives habits. I did slip on them, but once I got back on track with my goals I started to have all, with the exception of one, in my weekly goals.

Want More?

I have more stories that shows how I became who I am. They are in the Journey to Me series. I also have stories specifically about God and of course I wrote a book about my views and experiences with Love called To Love.

Little Blue Bird Poem

Little Blue Bird (Poem)

Little blue bird
why do you sing?
Little blue bird
where do you fly?

Do you fly from tree to tree?
Are you still looking for your home?
Little blue bird
do you fly home?
Little blue bird
is home the reason you sing?

 

Want More?

If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio or watch a few of my poetry readings.

Heart Journey, Journey to me blog series image

Why I Hate Birds: My Swan Attack Story

swan attack journey to me

It should be known that I hate birds. It is partly out of fear and partly is because I think at least fowl and larger birds are evil. I can handle smaller birds and can stand pet birds, like cockatiels. Roosters, swans, and geese are not okay in my book.

I have had a few negative run-ins with birds in my life. The first one I remember is the swan that attacked me and my now step-sister.

Until I was 10 I lived across the street from my uncles’ pig farm. They also had goats and chickens. I would always go over there and one day I went with my step-sister.

We went into the goat’s area. It was a fenced in patch of land that was a bit rocky, but grass still grew.

I did not realize that a swan made a nest and laid eggs in the grass, until I got too close. The swan chased my step-sister and me. We scrambled up some rocks, since we could not get back to the gate. There was a thorny bush on the other side of the fence. There was a short argument about leaping the fence, since we would be jumping into the thorns. The evil swan was ready to attack, but no major injuries occurred. I believe we jumped the fence or one of my uncles came to chase the bird away.

I want to say my uncle chased away the massive bird with a shovel in hand, but I can only remember the terror of the swan’s attack with its flapping wings and the feeling of being trapped.

Want More?

If you would like to read more short stories please check out my Portfolio or perhaps you would enjoy watching readings of my work on YouTube. You can also read more of Journey To Me, which is the series this is from.

A Poem About A Painting

A Poem about a painting

The Vine of Life
grows and splits.
The only thing that is clear
is the vine travels many ways,
flowers will bloom in their own time
and when they do
bees will come;
loving the flowers,
but not too soon.
Off to the side
A Rose does bloom
her bee is not yet seen.

 

Want More?

If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio. You can also watch a few of my poetry readings.