Category Archives: Writer

Adventures of a Deckhand

Day: 0

Location: Guliford, CT

Photo by Kelsea
Photo by Kelsea

I am calling today, day Zero because we didn’t do much but travel. I arrived at my destination around 3:00pm and waited until later in the day in order to have a “Meet and Greet” which included yummy pizza and information about what a deckhand’s duties were to be. I discovered I am the only female in training for this position. Well! There were plenty of questions, most of them being fired from myself. I received my schedule for the next two days of training and was told I might be put on a ship come Friday! I’m excited. The adventure is only just beginning, and I know I have my work cut out for me, but what a wonderful way to travel!

My day will start at 6am tomorrow and it will not end until 6:00pm that night. I will be taught how to tie knots, steer a large vessel, and safety measures. I will be learning new skills, remembering old ones, and discovering my limits as I work my day. Honestly, I’m excited for it all to begin! Though I am unsure of how I will do, I am confident that I will be putting my best foot forward. I am ready for this new. Chapter in my life, and who knows, maybe it’ll spark some heat under my feet to get my novel done!

How I’m feeling: Excited. Revved up. Like a conquerer!

Mind Sight

photo by Suren Manvelyan
photo by Suren Manvelyan

The human eye is an amazing thing. it uses a series of camera-like lenses to filter light through the pupil to deliver a message to the retina which then sends those messages to the brain. Now if you have ever played a game of “Telephone” when you were young then you know from experience that this is no small feat. The fact that within our iris’ there are innumerable nerve endings that resemble the makeup of our universe, is just astounding.

What I See.. Behind these hazel eyes of mine is a story, a tale that has never been told to completion, and one that never will, either. What these eyes have seen is both the light and the darkness of the world of which I belong. behind the depths of my pupils lies all the sights that i have seen in my memory. the eyes of the overactive imagination are blurred with the lines of fantasy and reality. We who live in the creative side of the mind see the world in the brightest and the darkest of ways simultaneously. I look out through optics that change from brown to green and everything in between. Even though I see the same world you do, my perspective of it differs from that of 80% of the populace. I see the trees, just as you do. strong and growing, filling a forest. but in the emerald green of their canopy of leaves I see the glowing lights of the fairies that are carrying their seeds to the next place they are needed to be planted. with wings of glittering gossamer, and eyes of crystalline colors. I see the art in the museums, the brush strokes that make the canvas pop. but i also watch that same piece of art move and come to life before my eyes. I watch as the gentle breeze filters through the painted on grass and lifts the blades into the wind. I watch as the house in that same painting comes to life with a farm family going about their day. I dont just think i see it, I feel it, I believe in it. When your eyes take in the surrounding lights on a dimly lit street with only three lamp posts, I am sure that if you have fear, you think of the things that go bump in the night. The reality of those things, robbers, bad people with ill intent, But within the cogworks of the overactive imagination, I can see the glistening fangs of a hungry animal with glutinous yellow eyes, burning with a bloodlust that can not be quenched. I feel the hot breath of some ill intentful person who has a freezing cold and deadly sharp blade placed at my jugular vein. When your lines of fantasy and reality are blurred to the point of non-distinction then you too have the mind, and the eyes, of an overactive imagination.

So look into the eyes, see past them and into the soul. What do you see through your own eyes?

Companion

 

Photo by Kelsea

 A pet is so much more than a responsibility, it is more than a chore. Pets are our friends. They know when you are feeling low, when you are hurting. They sense our fears and our worries and they know when we just need a hug. It’s all that warm and fuzzy stuff that I love about pets. But what do the pets see that make them know? Meet Timmy. My sisters cat, a ball of energy. I swear he can jump and touch the ceiling if we baited him with a laser.. Anyway! Here’s a day in the life of Timmy the Tom Cat!

What I See.. My humans are all asleep and I wander through the dark home as if it were my castle. The leading human sleeps with the loud dog, the boy is thankfully peaceful, and the girl is all curled up with her pillows. The other girl is in the garage. She shut the door and I can’t check to be sure she is safe, so I scratch and meow till I hear her yell at me. Once I know my humans are fine, I find my favorite bell ball and swat it down the hall and around the living room. I love to play at night. Every now and again I hear them move and I’m quiet for a bit, listening for them. I drift off to sleep and eventually I am woken up by the boy. He picks me up and gives me a snuggle. I don’t really like this..but he’s a harmless human, he just wants to be loved. So I let him cuddle me until I grow tired and I get away. The bigger girl is up next. Her I run from, but she gets me, picks me up and before I know it I’m lying on my back and being cuddled. I don’t really mind so much, they are gentle with me. I just enjoying being able to walk around on my own and not be picked up every few moments. The big girl is up, the one who sleeps in the garage. She pets me and plays with me. Every now and again she catches me by surprise and holds me, kisses my head and let’s me go. Strange human. The leader human puts them all in order and soon it is just me and the dog in the house once more. I love playing chase with the dog. I bop her on the head and she chases me around. We roll on the floor and have a blast. I watch the outside world from the window pane and long to roll in the grass. When the first person to get home finally gets here I stand by the door. Once it opens, I’m out! The feel of the warm sun and the soft grass, I jump right in and roll about in that lush grass. When I feel like it i go to the door and scratch at the bottom till it opens and then I lay on the sofa, completely content. Curling my tail around me as I drift off for a well needed cat nap.

What do you see behind the eyes of your favorite companion?

Naturescape

Photo found on Pinterest

When I look at this word, I see the word Escape tucked behind the word nature. When I see the images that appear on screen when I type this word into any site that brings it up, I find some truly amazing piece of nature that I wish I could escape to. I found this latest image on Pinterest, as most of my photos are. Just by punching in the aforementioned word. What feelings jump to your mind when you see such an image? Where do you see yourself?

What I See.. Standing on the rim of the cave, looking down into clear, crystalline waters, I find myself shaking with both fear and delight. It’s not the first time I’ve jumped off the edge into the water, and it won’t be the last. However this is a new height, and it’s terrifyingly sweet. I know the rush from falling will take my breath away, the chill of the water will freezer me to my bones. I know it’s safe. This cave has been checked many times, there are no sharp rocks or anything to fear. I just have to make my legs work. I close my eyes, forget my surroundings and leap off the edge with a shout. I open my eyes as I fall endlessly into those gorgeous waters. Straightening my legs and crossing my arms at my chest as I was taught, I hit the water and shiver. The beauty of those clean clear waters assaults my senses. I bob up to the surface and wave to the friends of mine who are still on the rim, I swim away so they can jump. Oh the laughs to be shared when like minded people come together for a new adventure. We splash in the waters of that cave for a while, our bags are lowered down on a rope and we gingerly take them to the mouth of the cave. But my eyes scan the walls of the cave, they are rough and cracked, there are jutting ledges. I find myself itching to climb up those walls. I didn’t bring my belay or extra climbing rope. Only enough for a tether line as we crawls through the dark, damp cave and back into the hot sun. The cuts and scrapes I’ve acquired from this trip are well worth the adventure.

Where in nature would you escape to? Somewhere local you’ve never explored? A distant place you’ve longed to go? Search and discover!

Road to Writing

photo by Keslea

 When I’m riding along the path to work, I take this gorgeous route that leads over wooden bridges, through tunnels of trees, and meanders through a bustling city. It is my inspiration for writing.

What I See.. The dark black asphalt on a hot summers day seemed to radiate heat from every pore. The tunnel of trees that line either side do little to hide the path from the blistering sun. That blinding yellow which tells you which side you belong on as you ride down the seemingly endless path. As a writer, I find that writing stories is much like riding down this bike path. Sure there are plenty of scenic views you could look at, maybe even stop and stay awhile, but ultimately you have to keep moving until you hit the end of the road. When writers become authors they have taken a journey with a series of characters that has meandered up hills down steep slopes and perhaps even off the edge of a few cliffs. There is an adventure in writing that takes you from point a to point b, in a way where the character that begins the story is completely different when you end the journey. It’s the same when you ride down a twisting path to nowhere. You start off, simply excited to be out in the warm sun a cool breeze, then you’re panicking when you see the hill, completing the climb thrills you, because you know you can coast down hill soon. But it winds and bends and looks utterly terrifying. Reaching the bottom is a feat on its own, but you make it, you’re stronger, and you shine with confidence. The achievement of completing the first book, the first short story, perhaps even the first novel, is so overflowing that it takes you to a new level of content. I’m still riding my bike through the uphill battle of my first book, but every time I look up I see the cresting of the top, and can’t wait for the downhill slope.

Rain

Photo by Kelsea
Photo by Kelsea

I woke up this morning to a soft but constant sound of droplets of water hitting my roof, a ferociously roaring wind, and clouds that blocked out the sun. As I sat up, I closed my eyes and just let the sounds of that inviting storm wash over me. Rain can be depressing, it can be calming, it can be frightening. Why is it that the simple storm of rain can become so many different things? I’m sure someone with more knowledge can give a better description than I. For the sole purpose of creative writing, which is what this blog is about let’s take a journey through life in the rain.

What I See.. The bright red door to the three story, run down building opens and out steps a young girl in jeans and an oversized tee-shirt. She has short cropped black hair and the world’s biggest grin spread across her face. She doesn’t hold back, sprinting off the porch, bounding down the six simple steps and into the rarely traveled road, barefoot and happy. Arms wide and eyes closed she spins in circles as she lets the rain fall down around her, laughing. As the years spin by around her the young, happy child becomes a teen, still in jeans with a tee-shirt too big for her body, the same short cropped dark hair.. But now she is curled up in some secluded spot in the woods as the rain beats down on her. She sails into the storm, knowing no-one can hear, and she lets go of all her anger, all her sadness, alone. There is no one who helps her. The world keeps spinning and now that young teen is a woman, dressed for success in dark, dress pants, a form fitting blouse and a pair of heels on her feet. She holds a black umbrella over her now long dark hair, looking out into the rain with a silent smile, remembering the girl who used to run into the storm and dance in circles, just to feel like she could fly. The feeling of calm washes over her and she goes back to her day of phone calls and business meetings with the fog of peace over her. The earth and moon continue their dance around the sun and now there is the old woman, with hair as white as snow, eyes bright, skin wrinkled. She sits in her chair on the porch of her childhood home, rocking as she looks out into the rain. With great effort and help from her husband of many years, they make their way down six steep stairs, into the rarely traveled road, barefoot and happy as they slowly dance in circles, lost in each others embrace. Letting the rain wash over them, without a care in the world.

No matter what your age, no matter where you are, the world will continue to spin, the years will go by in whispers of time, with no care at all for one single person. We make the choice to fall to our knees, to rise to the occasion, to face dragons. No matter where the rain takes you, or what it makes you feel, it will always come down, it is a constant reminder that even though things fall, there is always a break in the clouds, a rainbow of light, that can make any storm seem brighter. Find your rainbow, grasp it’s end, and ride it into the sunlight. It is there you can make your dreams come true.

Rhode to Nowhere

Photo found on Pinterest
Photo found on Pinterest

For those of us with creative minds and highly active left brains, a white page or blank screen is not just what it appears to be. What is around us determines what goes on the page. When we are at the ocean we see mermaids, and deep sea diving, sandcastles. When we are in the woods we think of adventure, of mystery, of tree houses and wood nymphs. A blank page is always the start of the adventure. I encourage you to put on some relaxing music I chose Father’s Lullaby by John Huling.

What I see.. As I step into the white fog, watching as it swirls around my feet, I am frightened by the haunting calls of the owl, the feeling of being enclosed by this maddening white fog, so dense I can barely see. As my heart races, the fog begins to fade.. Around me are tall trees, trunks that seem to touch the sky before their canopy of emerald green leaves stretch out and over, enclosing the ground in a gentle caress. Here is warmth, security. The owl stills calls, but no longer does it sound like a haunting, it is like the call of a lover, inviting you to join them in their slumber. I walk this forgotten path with fallen leaves that crunch beneath my feet, enraptured by the calm that seems to pulsate from the surrounding woods. I can’t help but smile as I scan the intermingling trunks. There beneath the trees is a wolf. He is calm, his eyes on me, not as if I was an outsider, but as if I were just a strange new creature he had never seen. I continue to walk along, the light and the end of the path is bright, it stings my eyes as I walk out from the cover of the trees. I return to the land of people and cars, no longer in that fantasy world where people and animals can simply be at rest.

Take a journey through the fog with wordless music, and see where it takes you. This is my key to unlocking my brain when I write. I close my eyes and stare at the blank page, and let my surroundings, my feelings, become the core of my writing. It is truly amazing what can happen when you shut off the right side of your brain, and let the creative juices flow.

What do you see in the fog?