When Writers Write

Spirals Of Life

 

I’m a writer.

You may have noticed this. The thing is, most of us who read are writers (more or less … sometimes way more and sometimes way less) and therefore …

When writers write (story tellers tell and/or people with opinions opine) the universe expands. No, truly it does! Each to our own uniquely individual way, we add to the collective consciousness existing in an ethereal part of the everything that isn’t understood – at all – but which nonetheless manifests itself somewhere within our imaginations, our thinking processes, our restless souls and/or the mysterious cosmos.

One of the primary reasons I find spirals fascinating is because it isn’t the (coined expression) ‘circle of life’ that brings renewal but the ‘ever occurring’ change brought about by spirals of life; expanding, growing, spiraling ever outward. We writers are a part of this – life’s glorious spiral effect. Fascinatingly so.

It is a wonderful thing, adding/sharing to freedom and universality of thought, word, expression and deed.

At least this particular writer believes so. Therefore, all your thinkers and writers, doers and believers … carry on. Creation is always a very good thing.

~Plh

Words Within Worlds Within Words


~ Well written words reveal themselves to be branches spiraling ever outward; releasing and igniting an ever changing spectrum of emotions ripe with potential for the emergence of new thoughts and ideas from those readers/speakers of our verbal creations.

~ Whether fiction, nonfiction, prose, scripts, lyrics or other, writers do much more in our crafting of words than just informing or entertaining.

~ Perhaps we may view each of our written endeavors as not just creative methods of communication and/or expression, but more aptly as inventions of innovative and thoughtful imagination, serving up potent catalysts of change involved with the evolution of who (as human beings) we are or in an even more expansive view ~ of who we’ve yet to become. ~Plh, 2017
*

I hope this new week is being good for you. Take care . . . I wish you well.

With great affection,

Penny

The Lesson of The Color Yellow … Friday Fictioneers

A big shout out to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and Friday Fictioneers. An outstanding place for authors to finesse their writing style each week by writing a flash fiction (100 words or less) or short story based on a photo prompt. For more info on how you can be a part of this fun loving group of writers or to just sample their creativity, click HERE!

My entry:

PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

The crowd was spellbound.

“It’s not just about the color yellow,” she said pausing for affect. “Although if one thinks about it yellow’s a most exceptional color. After all the sun shines yellow, the moon at its brightest is a rich golden yellow and we mustn’t forget glorious spring daffodils. Yes, yellow a truly fulfilling aspect of color.”

The shining vision of loveliness continued. “You see it’s not only about color in one’s life. It’s about the absence of it and most definitely one color should never be sufficient.”

Then with a mighty sweep of her wings the angel vanished from view.

*

Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoyed my words. Have a wonderful rest of your week and weekend to come, rich with colors of every kind!

With sincere affection

~ Penny

INK – and Global Scribes.org

Escribano

INK

When I think of ink, scribes come to mind. Industrious, hardworking individuals who over the millennium painstakingly wrote down historical happenings for the preservation of events and beliefs of the time. Even today if one thinks about ink (unless you’re a printer) you associate it with the writer and his or her written words.

Originally, every written word laid down by a scribe was a work of art, not just the words themselves but also the beauty of their hand written script and scholarly works of art referred to as illuminated manuscripts.

Ink is life’s blood or liquid essence to writer/artisans. It always has been and always will be. Where would Shakespeare or Mozart have been without ink? Yes ink, containing within its elements the amazing magic to convert creative thoughts and ideas into physical reality. And that’s pretty darn awesome, if you ask me. (writer and an artist)

 

Recently I was contacted by Global Scribes™ (A nonprofit organization which fosters global unity by connecting youth to build cultural understanding and worldwide community through the beauty and the power of the written word). As a result, I have participated in a few creative writing projects for them. Including the short piece you just read “INK”.

If, like myself you are interesting in helping a  nonprofit group that fosters and actively encourages creativity in our youth around this amazing planet of ours, I strongly recommend you become involved as well. Contact them at Global Scribes™ . You won’t regret it. Global Scribes is new, young, flexible and appreciating all of the help they can get growing Awareness and Participation. 

Most sincerely,

Penny L Howe

Mondays Finish The Story – The Dream of Longevity!

2014-12-01-bw-beacham

*

Prompt sentence that accompanies the photograph: “In the compound on the hill, lives a man with a dream.”

My entry:

In the compound on the hill, lives a man with a dream. An ordinary man, if exceedingly wealthy. His dream is to live forever, and at the age of 95 and in good health, many believe he’s found some clue to immortality.

But he hasn’t. What he has done is take very good care of himself, shoring up the weak parts of body and mind with the aid of very expensive doctors and other professionals. His quandary is his acute awareness of his mortality and the statistical averages regarding the longevity for humans. He knows he’s running out of time for figuring it out and then one day sitting on his private veranda, sick and tired of being alone while gazing at the expansive and expensive land around him, he knew.

It wasn’t so much about living long as it was about living a full life. He donated most of his many millions to worthy charities and causes, and lived a modest but happy rest of his life (which turned out to be a fair amount of time) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (oh no wait that’s this writer’s dream, well anyway I hope it comes true, re: millionaires giving their money and hearts to the needy! Definitely a wishful dream on my part!)

*

Thanks for stopping by and reading, I hope you enjoyed.

For more information about Mondays Finish The Story (flash fiction) Writers Challenge, where the writer uses both a photo and an opening sentence for the prompt: click HERE. Barb will guide you through the process, be sure and read some of the other entries while you’re there.

Happy beginning of the week, I hope your week is a great one for you,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – A Scary World Out There (in your head)!

88-11-november-23rd-2014

photograph © Alastair Forbes

Trapped in A Vortex of Negativity

“Hey, I tell you it’s a scary world out there.” Jerry said.

“I think it’s all in your head.” His best friend replied. The two were sitting in the warm den near the fireplace, mugs of coffee in their hands.

Paul waved toward the window. “Just look outside into the forest. It’s frightening. Weird sounds and I’ve heard people are going missing. Bad things are happening everywhere.”

“You’ve heard, yes. but has anyone actually been lost in our forest?” Paul held his fearful friend’s gaze with his own level one, waiting for the response and then he motioned to the window and the beautiful forest scene unfolding outside. “The sun is coming up, it’s going to be another great day. Enjoy the day Jerry, enough with this negative crap, already. There are always bad things going on somewhere, but no more so than at any time in history, maybe less.”

“Yes but they say…” As Jerry stopped for another drink of his coffee Paul interrupted him.

“They say, they say … it’s all in their heads too. You know what Jerry, I’m sick of all this.” He stood up banging his cup down on the table. “You all need to come to your senses. I’m going home.”

Jerry watched as his friend headed for the door calling out to him “It’s dangerous out there Paul, would you like me to walk with you to your house?”

Paul snorted, shaking his head sadly as he looked back at his friend before heading to the doorway, derisively adding “Jerry, I just live next door.”

Paul could be heard to mutter to himself as he slowly opened and then closed the door behind him. “An emotional epidemic, that’s what this is and it’s contagious, everyone thinking, saying and writing all these negative things. When will they see it’s all in their heads.  Thoughts are things and they’ve created this condition with their thoughts. They’re trapping themselves in a vortex of negativity.”

***

For more information about Sunday Photo Fiction where the photograph is the prompt to your imagination, click here for the details. Alastair will be your guide. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Thanks for stopping by, have a great Sunday and week to come,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction: Formation of stars – fantasy style

GEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA

photograph © Alastair Forbes

*

He gazed at the formation of icicles. The first two stars were shaping up nicely but the third one, he was having some problems with that one. Well great! This meant another trip. Another one of those long and lengthy and wearisome trips. Sighing, he grumbled, Ah well, best be on my way.

Retreating back inside his remote mountainside cabin, he grabbed a few essentials, placing them carefully into his knapsack, all the while figuring in his head how long the trip would be and what to take. He thrust ancient arms into a thick overcoat, hung his loaded knapsack over his shoulder and then pulled on heavily padded gloves. He was ready for his trek down the mountain.

Another sigh as he started on his way. Just a few feet from the cabin a soft whine to his left stopped him in his tracks. He smiled, turning towards the sound. “Hey Prince, my friend, in my hurry I almost forgot you fella.” The wolf smiled, a wolfish type of grin on his dark muzzle and trotted up beside him.

“You up for a trip?” The wolf cocked his head and stared directly back at him.

“Yeah, me neither, best get this over with though. I need that third star. You know what time of the year it is?” As if in agreement the wolf headed off down the mountain.

The two made good time together, stopping only for quick bites of dried food and brief resting spells before moving on. At last they came to the city.

The wolf left him just at the edge of the forest clearing. He continued on into the city. It was night time so fewer people to notice the stranger, but around him an extra shroud of darkness, assuring no one did. Making his way to the outside of a high-rise apartment building, in a very run down section of the city, he climbed the fire escape until  reaching the forth floor. Peering inside the dirty cracked window he saw a mother singing a lullaby to a small child. He waited patiently for her to finish.

When her song was over she kissed the sleeping child gently and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer that all would be well. The essence of her pure and loving thoughts made its way across the room, passing through the window crack and into the small container he held carefully in his hands. Once the vapor was inside, he stoppered the bottle, placed it back inside his rucksack, and then climbed down the stairs, walked through the city and out into the forest where the wolf waited. The wolf looked expectantly at him.

“Yes,” I’ve got it.” He said to the wolf. “So easy to find. Just follow the trail of goodness and honest caring.” They made their trip home and upon arrival he carried the vessel, filled with the essence of love, over to the icicles.

As he poured the vapor over the third icicle, the ends of the icicle formed into a third star. “Yup that oughta do it.” He said to the wolf. “They’ll be up in the sky in no time, glowing brightly.”

“With so much open space in the heavens …” he said later that evening to his friend the wolf, as they sat gazing up at the star lit sky in contemplation of life, “… it’s a good thing love is still to be had. I don’t know how we’d make our new stars without it.”

space

*

Yes, another longer short story (that sounds silly doesn’t it). Hope a few of you enjoyed, however! Sorry it isn’t scary, or horrifying or sad, or depressing or in any other way negative. I figure real life seems to have a pretty good lock on that one right now, for many, so I went to a different place.

If you’d like to try your hand at writing a story for Sunday Photo Fiction where the photograph is the prompt for your imagination, click here for the details. Alastair will guide you along your way. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Have a great week ahead,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – The Mysterious Map!

This week’s Sunday Photo Fiction (photo prompt) challenge. More information and details below!

85-11-november-2nd-2014

photograph © Alastair Forbes

 

Rushing waters have a melodious sound. Often, depending on the intensity, you begin to hear it at a distance. There is a soothing naturalness about it. Of course, as preoccupied as I was I didn’t waste any creative thinking regarding the sound of the water; I was just glad I could hear it.

Nearing the end of my quest. Finally. The last clue on the confusing map my friend, now deceased, had scrawled with her remaining strength before she died.

There should be a large odd shaped rock near the cascading water. There it was. Brushing aside wet shrubs and tall grass, I made my way to the rock. What would I find? What had been so important she left me a map to find it. A treasure map? A clue to her killer? I myself had no clues as to what any of this was about. But I was determined to find out.

As I neared the misshapen rock I could see a bit of an overhang towards the backside. It was necessary to get on my knees and scramble behind. The dirt was softer here, as if recently moved. I began digging with my hands, hoping what I was searching for wouldn’t be hidden too deeply. My fingers hit something solid. I brushed the remaining surface dirt from a small container and pulled it out of the ground. Holding the metal box in one hand I carefully removed the lid and stared in total disbelief at the contents. No one was going to believe this. It was …

(Oops too many words for flash fiction, I’d better stop writing now!) If you think you know, leave me a comment telling me what she found in the metal box! Something truly mysterious and exciting of course!

*

All of you who would like to take part in this writer’s challenge, just check in here at Sunday Photo Fiction Sir Alastair, the Intrepid, will be your guide. To read the other entries, click on the little blue link box, while there.

Hope you enjoyed,

~ Penny

 

A Writer Should Never Use – these two words! I Can’t!

I Can’t!

How many of us have said or heard the words “I Can’t”. All of us, and everyone is my guess.

 I recommend the following: Follow you heart, don’t forget your dreams. Discipline is important. Understanding that effort  + action will achieve results. Also research is important, spend a little time researching the “what & how” to do something . Put passion into this as well. Just don’t use the words “I Can’t”, because it isn’t true, you know … You Can!

 

Most mighty things – begin very small. Many great achievements were made with very slow and hesitant steps towards a goal. Success happened because those who achieved never stopped. Perhaps they’d regroup or pause and start over, but they never stopped.

 

I  CAN

Don’t speak to me about can nots

Don’t try to stomp on my dreams,

I am who I am, and I feel what I feel,

And my words are all there in my Reams.

*

The Reams of my paper seem endless

My words upon words upon words,

But I’m true to myself and I’ll say what I say,

And do all that “I Can” to be heard.

*

I’ll never give up or stop trying,

Holding fast so that nothing can ban.

My dream is to write and so I shall write,

I will write for I know that – “I Can”!

 ~

 Hold fast to your dreams, never let go, never stop.

Thank you for stopping by,

~ Penny

A Writer’s Good Intentions!

words

plhEntry in my day journal this morning: Today is the day. I will finally complete the Inspirational Book for Women I’ve been working on for more than a year (Okay, a year and a half – really? It’s been that long? Oh for goodnes sake, it can’t have been that long? Sigh. That long!)

So today’s the day. I hope. Maybe. I open my Scrivener program (See? Serious intentions going on here!) and read through portions of the latest draft. I’m slightly intimidated because the outline I sent to the publisher (Who suggested I write this book, for goodness sakes!) and discussed, at length, with her (the one she approved) just barely resembles what I’ve actually written.

Another sigh, here. But I am writing in the method I feel will be the best way to achieve my personal goal with this book: To actually make a difference. Not just another self-help, you-can-do-it type of book, but one that stands alone because the reader identifies and connects with me, the author, and what I’m saying.

So, with the best of intentions, I’m going to finish this. Okay, right after I write this blog post. But then I am, for sure.

end of entry

*

I hope everyone is gearing up to have a great weekend! I’ll be writing, but still having a good one – take care of you,

~ Penny