NovelSisters

watching, reading, and writing stories

Poem for Grandpa

So my past week has been a flurry of emotions, stress, ups and downs. My 94 year old Grandpa passed away on Saturday and I just got back from the funeral yesterday. Everything’s been so busy that it’s been hard to stop and reflect on the relationship I had with him.

He wasn’t my real grandpa, that grandpa died when I was 6. Grandpa Eddie came into my life 12 years ago when he married my grandma. It was strange at first to have this new person be part of my family but over the years I got to know him very well and I want to write a poem in his honor.

Eddie

What can I say about a man who’s seen so much?

Who lived through times of war and peace,

and saw so much of history.

 

His life revolved around the farm.

Feeding cows, bailing hay,

watching the sky for signs of rain.

 

I cannot recount all you’ve seen,

the people you’ve loved,

the things you’ve grieved.

All I can say is thank you from me.

 

You always had a Coke to share,

a smile to offer, a laugh to give.

You took care of my grandma,

welcomed us with each visit,

sold us your old Mercury,

and paid for college tuition.

 

When I tried my hand at writing,

you read my book,

and told everyone around,

that it was really good.

 

There is so much more,

that I could say,

about your love, faith, and generosity.

But I’ll end by saying this;

Though not by blood,

you will forever be

my Grandpa Eddie.

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A week without the Internet

No Internet

So, not that many of you would notice, because I fairly regularly go a week or more without posting, but I have had no working internet at my home for the past week and a half. Today it was finally fixed, and I think it’s an appropriate topic for a blog post.

I have a feeling that most people who lose their internet feel like they lose their life. How can you manage without e-mail, Facebook, Youtube, and Google to answer all your questions? And in one sense I have to agree, it’s a hard thing to get used to. I’ve been on trips where I wasn’t able to use my phone, or the internet but I always had something to do. This time, I was at home, and trying to go through my daily routine without the internet to help me.

I found that I could go to a local wifi hotspot to check e-mails, and luckily I have 3G on my phone so I can still use Google Maps when driving. But a large part of my life was changed. I couldn’t watch Netflix, or Youtube, I couldn’t print papers or update my Facebook status. Life changed… but actually I’m quite thankful for it.

During this time of year, I don’t have a lot going on, so I wasn’t stressed. Instead, not being online forced me to find other ways to fill my time. I can hardly believe how much reading I got done in this past week, just because I couldn’t watch silly videos on Youtube. I even started working on my second novel today. I hadn’t done that in months. Not having the internet, freed me to do other things.

Also during the Holiday weekend when I got to spend time with my family, we had to do so without the internet. We didn’t sit on our phones, each engaged in our devices and ignoring each other. Instead we talked, really talked. And let me tell you, that’s a lot more meaningful than a two minute video of a cat playing with a laser pointer.

In fact, I enjoyed this time enough, that I think I will make it a weekly habit, and not use the internet for one day out of the week. I can take the time to keep reading one of the many books I’ve started, or catch up with an old friend. And I would encourage you to give it a try too.

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A Busy Author

So, I’m looking back over the past couple weeks and wondering where has the time gone? I think with Mother’s Day, and two birthdays in my family all rolled into one week, I just never got to post. So I apologize for the wait. I toyed with doing a few posts with poems in honor of my family. But I’ve decided to do something else. I still might do the poems some time soon, just not today.

Today I had my second Visiting Author presentation at an Elementary School. The kids were great and asked a lot of good questions and listened very well. At this school I was given about 45 minutes to speak to the kids, so I ended each session with reading a section from my book.

So I’ve decided that in honor of the kids I talked to today, I would like to share that same section with you. I hope you enjoy it, and check out “Finding Home: The Orphan’s Journey.”

Here’s a link to it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Home-The-Orphans-Journey/dp/1490556427/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1400540643&sr=8-1&keywords=finding+home+the+orphans+journey

Enjoy!

Cover

“This one’s still alive” an unfamiliar voice said.

Ben opened his eyes only to squeeze them shut again to keep from being blinded by the sun’s piercing rays. “Ow” he moaned as he turned his head to the side and it began throbbing.

Ben tried to relax and the headache died down. He opened his eyes again, and blinked hard, trying to focus. All he could see were pebbles and grass blades with a few little ants crawling around. Ben turned his head back to facing forward and tried to sit up but a hand pushed him back down.

“Take it easy now” the voice said.

Ben blinked and tried to focus on the man in front of him. He saw the bright metal of the man’s helmet reflecting the sun and the scratched and faded paint of a guard emblem on the breastplate.

The man gingerly touched Ben’s head where the throbbing was coming from.

Ben winced.

“You’ve got a nasty bump there, but there’s no blood. I think you’ll be alright.”

Ben tried to sit up again and the man helped him slowly get to his feet. Ben looked around the gorge. He noticed several horses and other guards walking toward the bend in the road but he didn’t see the cart, or any of his family. He focused back at the guard “Where is everyone? Where’s my family?”

The man’s young face looked pained. “Now don’t work yourself up, there was nothing we could do….”

Ben’s heart started racing, he walked unsteadily toward the bend in the road where the barricade had been. Then he gasped, all his family was lying in a heap next to a hole that two guards were digging. Ben screamed and tried to run.

The guard caught him and held him tight. “Calm down, it’s alright.”

Ben struggled with the guard and started crying. “No, let me go! Father, father….” He pushed and twisted and screamed but the guard wouldn’t let go. The strong arms held him and turned him away from the scene. Tears stung in his eyes and he suddenly felt very weak. His head throbbed again and spots started to dance in front of his face. Ben fought for breath through the sobs. This can’t be real, this can’t be happening. The darkness closed in again.

* * * * *

Ben felt something cool and wet on his forehead. He opened his eyes and saw the same guard leaning over him.

“Feel better?” he asked.

Ben nodded, sat up and pulled the wet cloth from his head. “So they’re all…?”

The man nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

Ben’s eyes fell to the ground.

“Do you want to say goodbye?”

Ben nodded. He walked to where the soldiers had dug the grave and piled rocks on top. He stared at the white stones and tears started to fill his eyes. You were the best family anyone could ask for. Thanks for everything….

The guard stepped up behind him. “You ready?”

Ben didn’t respond. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the grave.

“Here, I think this belongs to you.” The man pushed a sword into Ben’s hand.

Ben looked down at the beautifully ornamented sword that had belonged to his father. He nodded and tried to hold back the tears.

“Come on, it’s time.” The guard turned Ben away from the grave and led him to a heavyset dappled gray mare. He easily lifted Ben onto the horse and climbed up to sit behind him.

As the guard steered the horse to follow the other soldiers out of the valley, Ben looked back once more at the rocky piles that covered his family. One last tear streamed down his dirt strewn face. Slowly, he turned his head to face the line of soldiers leading the way through the gorge. Ben felt numb as he silently watched the horses move rhythmically and listened to the guard’s small talk. It was like he was living in a dream world; aware of what was happening but not able to interact with it.

As the day wore on, the tall cliffs melted into gently sloping hills. The fading sunlight danced over the landscape, lighting the bright green grass atop the hills’ crests and leaving deep shadows in the valleys.

* * * * *

The band of soldiers reached a small town by nightfall and decided to stay at an inn. They ate heartily as the innkeeper brought them tray after tray of sweet-smelling food.

Ben sat by the fire, refusing to eat. He stared into the flames, listening absently to pieces of the guards’ conversation. There were lots of comments praising the food, and a few questions about what was to be done with ‘the orphan’ but Ben found his thoughts kept drifting back to his family. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the heat from the fire instead.

“You have to eat something,” a voice broke into his concentration. Ben looked up at the same guard that he had ridden with; the man was holding a small loaf of bread. Ben stared at him for a few seconds then turned back to the fire.

“I’ll just leave it here, in case you change your mind.” The guard set the loaf on the bench next to where Ben was sitting and turned to leave.

Ben studied the loaf’s browned crust. The tantalizing smell of fresh bread wafted into his nostrils. He wanted to eat it, but every time he thought of his family, his stomach formed a tight knot.

Finally Ben stood up and left the dining area, hoping that getting away from the enticingly sweet smells would make the tightness in his stomach less noticeable. He found the room the guards had paid for and curled up in the corner. He tried to sleep, but couldn’t. Even when the rest of the guards had come in and found places for themselves he couldn’t sleep. He just sat in the corner and waited for the dawn.

* * * * *

When morning did finally come, the soldiers all ate and prepared to continue their journey. Ben didn’t know where they were going, but it seemed obvious that he wasn’t going to be accompanying them.

The man that had been taking care of him came over to say goodbye. He pressed a gold coin into Ben’s hand. “Go on home now.” He smiled at Ben and walked back to his horse.

Ben frowned as he watched the man mount his horse and follow the other soldiers out of town. What home? He stood in the inn’s doorway and silently waited until the riders disappeared from view.

The innkeeper also stood silently on the inn’s porch, but he was staring at Ben, not the riders. A deep scowl crawled over his face as he approached Ben. He poked a fat finger into Ben’s stomach. “If you want to stay, you’ve got to pay! I’ll have no leeches in my inn.”

Ben felt a rush of anger overwhelm him. He threw the gold coin at the innkeeper’s feet and ran. He sprinted past people, past shops, past houses and animals. A few people yelled at him to slow down or watch where he was going, but he paid no attention to their words. The tears were streaming again. He ran and ran, barely seeing where he was going as his legs pumped and his lungs heaved. He tore out of the village and didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The need to get away was overwhelming and forced him to keep going. Faster and faster he ran as his heart pounded and legs began to shake.

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Visiting Author

I feel like I’m growing up. Like Pinocchio saying “I’m a real boy now!” I’m an author who feels like shouting “I’m a real author now!”

Image Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pinocchio

I suppose being an author could be loosely defined as writing something and actually finishing it, or maybe it’s finally allowing other people to read your work. Some people may define it as getting a publishing house to distribute your written creations to the masses. But what makes me feel like an author? Or at least on this occasion?

It was going to a middle school and telling them about the novel I had self-published: Finding Home: The Orphan’s Journey. There’s nothing like stepping into an environment with all those young voices asking what it’s like to write, how you do it, and what your favorite parts are. Suddenly calling myself an author seems like what I should be saying. If that’s what these students see me as, then I somehow feel its more true. It’s not just something I’m saying about myself, now it’s a title that others give me as well.

I had a lot of fun telling my story to the 6th-8th graders, seeing their reactions, answering their questions and encouraging them to give their dreams a chance. One girl even came up to me and stated that she had written a book too, and thought maybe she could self-publish it like me.

It was a surreal experience that I thoroughly enjoyed, though my feet did hurt by the end, and my throat was a bit dry. But all in all I had a marvelous time, and I’m looking forward to the next school I get to visit.

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A Poem for Spring

 

DSC04192

Spring is in the air,
Life anew appears.

What once was
dead, brittle, brown,
Now is alive and green.

Birds gather to feed and bathe,
The wildflowers bloom.
Bees buzz and wander over
a vibrant sea of color.

I breathe it in and feel a peace,

Something in me knows,
Like spring that comes each year,

Death will not be my end,
Life will continue.

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The Rest of the Story

Cover

A while back I posted a section from my novel Finding Home: The Orphan’s Journey. I wanted to post another section from the book, so people could see what happened.

As always, if you like what you read, check out the full book at: http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Home-The-Orphans-Journey/dp/1490556427/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1394553842&sr=8-1&keywords=finding+home+Lydia+Hill

Enjoy!

      “So the young lad awakens” one of the men said with a laugh. “All alone tonight are we?”

      Yeah, sure feels like it. “Who are you?” Ben managed to say as he sat up.

      “That’s not important,” the biggest of the three said in a gruff voice.

      “What do you want?”

      “Oh it’s not what I want, it’s what you want.” The big man smiled, revealing his crooked teeth. “See, if you want to live, you’ll give me anything you have, and if you don’t… well….” The man put his hand gingerly on his sword hilt.

      Ben gulped. I don’t have anything to give them. Oh I hope the captain acts soon.

      “What are you numbskulls doing?” a voice said from behind the three men.

      “Sorry sir. We were just trying to find out if he was worth taking captive.”

      Ben watched in horror as the big man stepped aside to reveal another man. This man was definitely in command. Although he was smaller than the others, his body was sleek with muscle and his steal gray eyes had the silent stare of one in authority. This doesn’t sound good. Oh hurry up captain.

      The commander stepped forward and glanced over Ben. “He’s of no importance,” he said indifferently. “Kill him.”

      Ben grabbed his sword and stood up in one motion.

      The other men soon had drawn their swords as well.

      “Why didn’t you check him for weapons?” the commander asked angrily.

      “Don’t worry sir, this won’t take long,” the big man said arrogantly as he stepped forward.

      Ben saw his opportunity. He ducked the man’s blow and thrust his sword forward catching the man in a break in his armor.

      The massive man screamed in pain and fell to his knees.

      Ben pulled back and noticed more men beyond the group coming closer to see what was going on. Where are you captain? I can’t keep this up for long.

      “Why you little…” one of the other men said as he stepped towards Ben.

      Ben swung at the man, but this Ungul was quicker than the last one and deflected the blow easily. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben noticed more men starting to gather in a circle around him as he continued to fight. Come on captain, your bait’s about to get eaten.

      Ben stepped backwards as another man joined in the fight. Ben blocked again and again, barely deflecting one swing before the next came. The swords got close enough to tear part of Ben’s shirt and scratch his arm, but Ben was able to avoid any major injuries. He was so focused on staying alive that he didn’t notice that the taunts of the men around him were slowly turning into gasps of horror.

      It wasn’t until one very loud scream broke through the noise of the fight that Ben and the now three men he was fighting stopped to see what was going on. As soon as Ben realized that the surprise attack was finally happening, he took advantage of his opponents’ confusion and attacked.

      Soon there were other soldiers around Ben, fighting the Unguls. “About time you got here,” Ben called to the captain as he jumped into the fight.

      The captain took on one of the Unguls fighting Ben. “Sorry about that, but your distraction was too perfect. Thanks to your little sword fight, we were able to take out half the troop before they even noticed we were here.”

      Ben pulled back towards a big bolder as the lone Ungul he was fighting took another swing at him. “You’re welcome.”

      The captain, noticing that Ben was pinned against the bolder, deftly spun away from the Ungul he was fighting to help Ben. After a few quick moves both of the Unguls’ swords were on the ground. The captain smiled as he watched the two Unguls turn and run for their lives. “You’re welcome.”

      “Thanks.” Ben sat down exhausted.

      The captain removed his helmet and watched silently as his troops finished off the few Unguls left in the camp.

      One of the soldiers yelled after a fleeing Ungul. “Yeah get out of here ya yellabelly! Stay in your own country!”

      “You think they’ll just leave?” Ben asked the captain.

      The captain ran his hand through his matted dark hair speckled with gray hairs, “Sure hope so.” He smiled down at Ben then held out his hand. “Need some help?”

      Ben took the captain’s hand and stood up. “You know, I still don’t know your name.”

      “Yes, well I suppose I’ve gotten used to just ‘Captain,’” he said with a chuckle.

      “Alright Captain.”

      The captain smiled. “But you aren’t one of my soldiers. The name’s Martin.”

      “Martin then.”

      “Just don’t use it around the troops, might throw them off a bit.”

      Ben nodded.

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A Sneak Peek

This past year, I published my first novel “Finding Home: The Orphan’s Journey.”

Cover

It is a youth adventure story revolving around Ben and his search for his lost family. He meets many people along his journey, some are kind and helpful, others are not. Anyway, I wanted to give my blog followers a bit of a sneak peak into the book. I’ve found other authors’ blogs that also feature sections of their books, and I would like to do the same. So, occasionally, I’ll post a little section of my book. If it interests you, feel free to buy the whole story on Amazon. You can follow this link: http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Home-The-Orphans-Journey/dp/1490556427/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1391725148&sr=8-1&keywords=Finding+Home+the+orphan%27s+journey

And without further ado, here’s a sneak peak at Ben’s adventure.

      “Ben, wake up.”

      Ben felt a poke in his chest. He opened his eyes to see the captain leaning over him. Ben rubbed his eyes. “Hmm what’s going on?”

      “We seem to have a bit of a problem.”

      “Oh?”

      “Yes, well our lookout has spotted a band of Unguls coming our way.”

      Ben sat straight up. “What!?!”

      “Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but the rumors are true. So get up, we’re going to need your help.”

      Ben stood up quickly and grabbed his sword. “Where do you want me?” he tried to ask bravely but there was a slight squeak to his voice that betrayed his true feelings.

      “Actually, I have something special planned for you. Come with me.” The captain led Ben away from where he had bedded down for the night and towards the campfire.

      Ben looked at the solitary campfire sitting next to a rocky hill. “Where is everybody?”

      “Hiding.”

      Ben gulped. “So why aren’t we?”

      The captain turned toward Ben and looked him square in the eye. “Ben, I need you to do something for me.” He took a deep breath. “The Unguls have us outnumbered. The only way we stand a chance is if we take them by surprise…. They know someone is here because of the fire, but if they think it’s only a lonely traveler, they’ll let their guard down.”

      “So I’m the bait?” Ben said quietly, his voice beginning to shake.

      “Afraid so. But you can keep your sword, and once the Unguls get close enough, we’ll close in and surround them. You won’t be alone long.”

      Ben nodded slowly as his heart began to beat faster.

      “Alright, well they’re getting close, so just lay down here and pretend you’re asleep.” The captain turned to go find a hiding place.

      “Wait!” Ben said in a higher pitch than he had intended. “I don’t think I can do this.”

      The captain put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. I promise. Just wait until they get close and keep them distracted as long as you can.”

      “How?”

      “Just go with your instincts. If they’re looking for information, keep them talking, if they’re out for blood, well use that.” The captain pointed to Ben’s sword. “Although… I would keep that hidden until the opportune moment if I were you.”

      Ben nodded and tried his best to put on a brave face.

      “Thank you Ben.” The captain gave Ben’s shoulder a squeeze then hurried up the hill and disappeared from view.

      Ben took a deep breath then sat down on the hard ground. He carefully hid his sword behind his back and then lay down trying to make his body relax. Ben forced his eyes shut. He strained to detect any noise but his heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear. Alright, just calm down. It needs to look like I just woke up. Ben forced himself to take a few long, deep breaths. His heart began to slow. Ben could now hear the wind in the trees.

      A few minutes passed then a twig broke. Ben immediately tensed up. What should I do? What should I do? Ben tried to make himself relax again. I’m supposed to keep them distracted for as long as possible. He waited.

       Soft footsteps approached slowly until Ben was sure they were right next to him. What if they’re going to kill me in my sleep? Ben could hardly breathe. He couldn’t stand it any longer and opened his eyes. Three enormous men with strange armor were staring down at him. Ben gasped.


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The Novel’s Journey

I know I don’t mention it on this blog a lot, but I am a writer. Specifically I’ve been working on publishing my first novel for the past several years. Writing a novel is a long process. Not only does it take perseverance to actually finish, it also takes serious thought and editing skills. On top of that pile on the whole mess of trying to self publish and you can start to see why it takes so long to actually finish.

But I’m proud to announce that my novel “Finding Home; The Orphan’s Journey” is now finished! It is available on Amazon today!

Cover

http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Home-The-Orphans-Journey/dp/1490556427/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1384877071&sr=8-1&keywords=Lydia+Hill+Finding+Home

I’d like to share a little about how this story came to be, and perhaps in the future I’ll post some small sections from the text itself. But if you want to go ahead and purchase a print copy, feel free.

This novel began as an sketchy idea. Oftentimes as I’m going to sleep I think up some story in my head. Usually I’ve forgotten it by the next morning and most of them aren’t worth remembering, but this time, I liked the idea. I decided the next morning to write out a generalized plot line. It wasn’t a super long plot, and most of it was the big picture. In essence I knew I wanted to write a story about an orphan who goes on a quest to find his long lost family, in hopes that they are still alive. I had a few ideas of what should happen to him on this quest, like running into a Princess and saving her life. But there were lots of gaps and holes, and I had no idea how to end the story. Also, the big picture was very different from actually writing a book, putting in dialogue and description and organizing the whole thing into chapters. All of this actual writing was a big job that I had never attempted before.

The writing process started out slow, I started with a grand back story explaining what had actually happened to this orphan, but eventually realized that this was not a great way to start a book. It was good to write so I knew what had happened, but it wasn’t needed for the reader.

As years continued, I still dreamed about one day actually finishing my book, but high school was nearing it’s end and my busy college days lay before me. I thought that taking Writing classes in college would help motivate me to finish, but instead of writing my novel, I wrote other papers, and learned more about what it takes to write well. In addition, during my college years I was able to secure a job at a local middle school where I was supposed to read with students. As I saw examples of good and bad literature in the school library, I began to think again about my novel, and giving younger kids an exciting book that was also clean and safe. I was really tired of kids coming across crude language and telling me “I’m not allowed to say this.” Of course you’re not, I was thinking, this stuff shouldn’t be in a kid’s book. There’s got to be better stuff out there. And so I decided that my novel could be one of these ‘better’ books, at least in the sense of crudeness.

By the time I had graduated from college, it had been a long time since I’d actually tried to write anything connected to this novel. When I finally looked back at it, I realized how simple the language was and how difficult it would be to “fix” what I’d already written. But I decided to try. Now that there was no homework to do, I had time to write.

So I recruited a few friends to give me feedback on my early chapters, then I started writing furiously. By writing very long research papers in college, I had learned that writing was not such a big challenge after all, I just had to do it. Another contributing factor was the National Novel Writing Month. My sister had won the contest my senior year of college, and I began developing a plan of finishing my novel before November, and then trying to write a sequel during the contest month. With this goal in mind, I worked much more diligently. By November 1st I was done with my rough draft and ready to write more.

After the busy NaNoWriMo season, I entered a new phase: editing. Some of it was fun; developing chapters, making artwork, or adding descriptive details. But editing also meant scrolling for typos multiple times, and having a few friends read the whole draft for errors. As you can imagine, this was a long process that took several months, but finally I was nearing the end. Figuring out the cover and description was actually not as hard as I thought it would be, thanks to Create Space’s program. And now I’ve come to the end of my journey, at least for this novel.

So if you’re interested in starting a journey for yourself, buy the book. Or if you’ve already started out on your own book, leave me a comment and let me know where you are in the writing process.

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NaNoWriMo

Image Source: http://nanowrimo.org/

As November rolls closer, I’ve come to decision time. Should I participate in NaNoWriMo again, or take a break? For those who don’t know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. It is basically a contest or challenge to write 50,000 words in 30 days.

Last year I did it for the first time. It was a a blast. Sure there were times of stress, or having no clue what to write about. There were times I just stared at my computer screen with no clue what to do. I think I even had to write on an ancient laptop for part of it because mine had crashed. But still I look back on that time as a great experience.

But this year, I don’t have an idea to write about. Instead I see a pile of old work that needs revising. Should I really start a new project that will also need editing? I’ve toyed with the idea of making any revisions I make to an old novel count towards my goal of 50,000 words. But I know I don’t need to write a whole book with my revisions, I just need a couple of new chapters and some changes in the ones I’ve already written.

However, as I was glancing through blog posts today, I saw that one brave writer is going to try NaNoWriMo for the first time this year. And it got me thinking; yeah I have plenty of excuses, but the main reason to do this is because it actually gives me a reason to sit down and write. So maybe I’m not writing a new story, maybe I don’t have a detailed plan, but I can still join in with all the other writers out there and actually give a big effort for one month. And who knows what will happen.

So that’s my plan for now. I may end up with several short stories, and some new chapters for my unfinished book, or I may find a whole new novel developing, but I’m not going to make excuses and not write anything. The least I can to is try.

Any other writers out there who are on the fence about joining in, I’d encourage you to hop on the writing train. And if you’re that person who’s never finished a novel but wants to, I’d encourage you to give NaNoWriMo a try.

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Finishing

How do you decide when something is finished? Whether it’s writing a report for a class, or refurbishing your house, all projects eventually need to be “done.” I’ve had friends and relatives, and I admit I’ve fallen into this category too, who are perfectionists. We want everything to be perfect, we want our best effort to be seen. And well this makes it hard to ever be “finished.”

However, I’ve started to overcome this obstacle to finishing. I think it started in my first painting class in college. I had painted before, and well… it took forever. Every dab of paint was important, I had to use tiny dots of paint on my brush so I didn’t have too much and mess up all my work. It seriously took me at least four months to finish one tiny little picture.

Well the first day of class I come in to find that we will be painting 6 pictures in one semester, all on large canvases. My world was turned upside down. I couldn’t paint like a perfectionist anymore, the limited amount of time wouldn’t let me. And so, I changed. Instead of putting tiny dots of paint on my brush, I’d scoop up a big blob. Instead of dabbing the canvas, I’d make big strokes. It was hard to relearn, to change, to be uncomfortable with “the mess.” But thankfully I had a good teacher. He showed me that if I just went for it, and got all the basic shapes and colors arranged, then I could come back in with details later and still end up with a beautiful painting.

October 2009 030
I think the same thing can happen with writers. We start off wanting to write something, a novel perhaps, or a poem, or whatever. But we want it to be perfect, to perfectly express what’s in our minds. And that makes it hard to start. We can spend so much time on little changes, on using “the perfect word” to describe something, that we end up never finishing.

Instead I’d challenge writers to just start. Spit out whatever is on your brain, even if it isn’t very good, and then come back later and “touch up.” That’s what editing is for anyway. And then when you finally finish that paper or project, celebrate! Don’t critique yourself with little errors you missed, just enjoy the final product and relax.

So here’s a poem I “finished.” Hope you enjoy it. 🙂

Lydia Hill

February 2, 2012

Life’s Gait

I used to take riding lessons

in the dust of a parched Texas summer.

The steady beat and swift breeze

kept me circling the worn path.

Click of the tongue,

nudge to the stomach,

tug on the reigns,

up and down with the motion.

Sometimes we canter quickly,

sometimes we walk slow,

but always we must move.

We cannot stop the flow

round the earth,

round the sun,

the motion of time,

since life first begun.

We like to think

we have control,

that our choices determine

where we will go.

Then in the air, all

power stripped away

hit the hard ground

wondering what went wrong

Did I lose control

or ever even have it?

Legs shake as I rose, to face

my choice.

Do I sit out on life?

Or jump back in?

It will keep moving,

whatever my decision.

I could fall again,

and break more than my pride.

But is security worth the price,

of losing out on life?

I climbed back on,

determined to keep in mind

that despite my lack of control,

life is still a fun ride.

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