The key
to opening
my chamber
of secrets
is consistency.
Showing oneself
worthy of trust,
a companion
who arrives.
There is something
to be said for
presence,
the constant knowing
that someone can
be counted on
to exist
when others
are virtual.
This poem was written during a Harry Potter marathon with my friend Debbie M. while watching the second movie Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
I am happy to announce that great progress has been made in the last year. I have earned my Master’s Degree in English and Creative Writing, my grandchildren have been reunited with their parents, I finally had hip surgery, and I made it through the year teaching despite COVID. It has been a wild ride, but things are looking up. I see the glimmers of feeling better and stronger on the horizon. I am certainly more confident about my passion for writing and my commitment to making a career for myself in the literary field.
Here’s to constant improvement, even if it looks like barely any progress is being made. It is okay to tiptoe out of comfort zones, take teeny tiny baby steps toward goals, and spend tons of time researching options before picking the next right thing. This journey is not a race.
(Illustration: Sarah Grillo/Axiosa)
My grandchildren and I have settled into a nice routine over the last few weeks. We get up early to eat and play, do homeschool and play some more. The weather has been either rainy or cool for the most part, so outside time can occur whenever they like. They play on the porch when it rains. The only weather we cannot tolerate is hot. Living in Texas ensures that the outdoors are inaccessible at least 3 months out of the year.
I have begun my master’s degree in Creative Writing and am enjoying the topics of discussion thus far. We are studying the way new words get added to our vocabulary. Some I think are of note are Rona for Coronavirus, skurt for go, and beat for applying makeup. I find the evolution of language fascinating. I am always interested in how words come about and why certain ones stick. I’m sure these are familiar to some, but I had never heard them until this year.
Teaching my actual students from home has gone great so far. I have only been asked to send little amounts of work on paper up until now. Beginning next week, I will teach some Zoom lessons…at least we are going to experiment with it! We shall see how it goes.
Another exciting leap I took was joining an online meditation/writing group. I love it! After meditating and relaxing, my writing flows so much better and I am getting back to my craft. I recommend writing and sharing with others once in a while. It is very motivating!
My last post was in October. I reported that I had not written since authority figures in my life slammed me with judgment, censorship, and criticism…not only of my writing, but my discernment as a human being and professional.
Now my job is in jeopardy–not connected to my writing, politics above my station. I am working from home due to the coronavirus and quarantine and all that bizarreness that is occurring in this world right now.
I have also taken in grandchildren temporarily while adult children fix their worlds. I’ve had a winter of sickness and slow recovery. I’ve battled a time of sadness. And I’ve applied to begin working on my master’s degree. Big things are happening.
And all I want to do is write…and read…and write some more. Enough pouting, sulking, brooding, etc. It is time to get back to finding my joy. I cannot be derailed by others whose opinions I don’t even value anyway. It has certainly not been a conscious decision to take a sabbatical from writing, but that is what has occurred. And it has not been good for me.
Here and now, I resolve to get back to writing. I declare this time of non-writing ended. Rebekah the writer is back.
I had what felt like a setback last week. I can’t really go into detail, but was required to remove my books from a library, change aspects of said book, and accept feedback I did not want to hear from people I did not want to hear it from. Sigh…
I have allowed this incident to discourage me to the point that I have not written since then. I sat down with a cup of tea and tried to write a poem this morning and couldn’t get through it. Now it is almost bedtime and this post will have to do as my attempt at putting myself back into writer mode. A blog at least counts as something.
I know many writers have faced discouragement, rejection, rewrites, and edits that destroy the soul of the work. They have to pull themselves out of funks and get back to the craft. And I will. I am temporarily in mourning. This depression will not get the best of me. It is simply a detour on my journey. I will find my way back. This post is a start.
I read the novel Descent on a whim at the recommendation of a coworker and a student in one of my summer classes. It was a page-turner to rival the likes of James Patterson. What I wasn’t expecting was the surprisingly intricate prose. I was reminded of F. Scott Fitzgerald.
The subject matter was dark, but written gorgeously. While on vacation in the mountains, a teenage girl goes on a run with her younger brother following on a bike for protection. Disastrously, the brother is injured and the girl is kidnapped. This is not too much of a spoiler since it occurs in the first few pages of the novel. The rest of the book is varying accounts told from the perspectives of each family member (and others) spanning several years of searching for the girl, dealing with life without her, and hoping she’s still alive.
The characters are well-developed and each of their motivations, fears, and doubts is picked apart like clues at a crime scene. Several themes that stood out for me were the ways in which we cope with tragedy, the power of survival instinct, and the lengths we go to for those we love.
Some of the scenes were too intense, gruesome, and mature for children. One brutal rape scene in particular is much too graphic to be allowed in my psych facility school library. But that intensity is part of what made the book hard to put down.
This DESCENT into depravity is paired with breathtaking views of snow-capped mountains, deep ravines, and forests. Whether by escape, rescue, or death, the reader needs resolution of some kind, any kind, which makes the book impossible to put down.
An orchid appeared
on my counter last week.
It’s stick-straight stems
point proudly skyward
upholding regal blooms
of white with
painted purple lips.
Waxy long leaves
splay around the base
as though palms upturned
in adoration.
Imagine my pleasure
upon discovering that
the beautiful blossoms
in question were left
for me by my daughter.
Symbolic of elegance
and fertility,
love and respect.
Printed directions
attached to a stick
explain care and feeding,
so my granddaughter
places three ice cubes
reverently just above the roots
and waits to see
what happens next.
This morning I had tea with my mother Cyndee and sister Robyn. My mother made breakfast to order – a lovely omelet for me and a waffle for my sister. We had a nice visit and I showed off my new book that arrived in the mail. It feels good to hold the physical manifestation of so much hard work in my hands.
And that is where I sold my first ever novel…to my mom. 🙂
I am not proud of every part of the story I wrote. I am not pleased with every piece of dialogue. There are plot holes. I couldn’t decide on the ending. A few of my characters are not well-developed. I could have gone so much deeper with the idea behind the title. The list could go on.
I am very proud of finishing. I am proud of editing, formatting, setting up an account with Amazon kindle, and a bank account to deposit all of my cents into. I am proud of all the hours I put in, all the energy, creativity, emotion, and focus it took to make it happen. And I am beyond proud to have met a goal I set for myself many years ago of publishing.
Today was a good day. And I really don’t care if I ever sell another one of these books. I am a published author. I write books.
I began a story today and even though it was just a snippet, it felt good to be creative, let myself off the hook for editing, website maintenance, formatting, plot planning, outlining, and whatnot. It has been so long since I wrote simply for fun. Now I am on a roll and don’t want to go to bed, even though it is way past my bedtime and I have early obligations. Here are the first few lines:
The girl sat staring out the mud smeared living room window and mused that this must have been what it was like for people pre-television or cell phones. She relaxed her eyes trying to see both her mopey reflection and the barbecue pit on the front porch at the same time. She could almost make it happen, then one would gain prominence. She was too bored to be frustrated, too numb to really care, so she kept trying until there was a knock at the door.
I am experiencing my first Writer’s Group that Lori invited me to. at Cuppa Austin on Parmer close to Mopac. It is a nice little coffee shop. I got a breakfast taco, hot tea, and iced tea. They have a selection of loose teas to choose from and the baristas were cheerful. My kind of place.
We have a row of tables and 7 people have shown up so far. This is already more successful than any Writer’s Groups I’ve ever hosted. No one talks. They just work. It seems like a productive group. I have gotten four chapters edited. I am now halfway finished editing my BlackIce novel. Making progress!
And yesterday, my best friend Erica helped me get my website “landing” page set up so when people go to marshallpress.net they will see something (instead of a fake page.)
rebekahjmarshall 