I remember the first one (that I remember). I was walking along the gravel driveway of our house. I felt my feet leave the ground and I flew/floated over the tree-lined drive.
I had more, but I can mostly remember the feeling, not the setting or the circumstance. The sensation of floating and thinking “I’m not supposed to be able to do this” and being on the verge of falling, yet still having some control was…exhilarating? nerve-wracking?
Maybe I have been flying but just don’t recall.
I went through a phase of writing down my dreams as soon as I awoke. I don’t anymore, and I don’t know why. Sometimes, a dream will come back to me in a flash and I’ll remember the whole segment, other times, just one snippet.
I don’t read into the meaning of dreams as some do, but sometimes they are fun to remember. Some leave you with a good feeling, some are heart-pounding adventures, some are just bizarre, and a few are just scary*.
Hey. Kind of like life, don’t ya think?
*Ever watch your pet dream? It’s pretty funny went their legs twitch and they make little noises. You know they’re chasing something.
I heard yesterday that Canadian comedian Norm MacDonald had passed away. I remember him on Saturday Night Live as host of Weekend Update and as Burt Reynolds on Celebrity Jeopardy. He had a weirdness to his talent and his delivery was like he didn’t care if anyone shared his sense of humor. Probably was what got him fired.
There’s always a sadness when a celebrity passes, but their body of work keeps their talent alive.
Since I am taking a break from my cartoons, here is my “Hide-and-Seek” series:
Garbage, we have to talk. It’s not you; it’s…them.
Them? The people who are incapable of carrying you home or for those few extra blocks to find a trash can. The people who carelessly release you into a world you don’t belong. The people who just open their car window and toss you into the ditch.
You? You’re not at fault. You were once important to someone. You held their drink. You kept the germs out of their lungs. You wiped the mustard from hungry lips. Then they callously let you go, and your identity changed.
You are now garbage, and I don’t say that in a malicious way because it wasn’t your choice.
I’m sorry that you have been abandoned on the ground. I’m glad you don’t know that you are missing the party going on in the can over there. Sometimes, I’ve picked you up, but I can’t do it all the time; there’s just too much. I’m sorry.
Maybe the hand that let you go needs a swift kick in the…well, the hand.
Welcome to this week’s blog hop. Today the topic is:
How do you feel about the use of profanity, either in your stories or in what you read?
I tend not to use profanity in my writing, as I don’t often use it in my normal conversation. I know, I know, a writer should be able to write diverse characters, not just a mirror of themselves.
Certain language will be warranted in literature. You would have a hard time believing that a street thug would say, “Oh, golly gee” and we all rolled our eyes when we saw Die Hard 2 on TV for the first time and heard John McLean say, “Yippie Ki Yay, Mr. Falcon.” Who the f*#@ is Mr. Falcon?
If profanity fits the bill, there is no reason for a writer to shy away from it. If you can do without it and it doesn’t detract from the character, well, that’s another way to go.
On a side note, I do skip over anything erotic/sexual in what I read. Usually (often? more often than not?) it doesn’t add anything to a storyline, so I don’t see a point to it. Oh, I’ll still read your book, but not 100% of it. I also don’t write about it either, but that just my choice. Can two characters spend a whole book together without any sexual tension? That’s up to the writer. Is it believable? Depends on how good the writer is.
Toccoa River – McCaysville, Georgia years come and years go the old bridge traverses time birthing of futures Posting to my Yesterdays Ink series – original post in response to Reena’s Exploration Challenge – Week 67 -Eugi image source – personal property
I saw this post and it reminded my of this poem that I wrote:
Bridges are a symbol of perseverance
Bridges may lead to something better
Bridges span seemingly insurmountable barriers
Peace, reconciliation, acceptance
Bridges are often burned
Because of anger, resentment, spite
Bridges will always be a connection
Thanks to the late Fred Willard for the title of the post today.
So, What did happen? Well, it was my first attempt at scheduling a post since I was going to be away on Friday. Long story short, it didn’t work. But left to it’s own volition, it would have posted today at 6:30 PM GMT…
I’ve met many authors and readers during my time marketing, cross-promoting, and blogging. I think writers have a responsibility to inform readers about all the indie authors out there in the very crowded world of book publishing. You can’t do it alone, and why would you when you have a supportive group available?
Readers don’t just read one author – they stick with their favorite genres. There lies the power in cross-promotion. If one of my readers buys a book from an author I promote, then chances are there will be a reciprocal effect, or so is the hope. Do I want to boost sales? Of course I do. Do I want to boost other’s sales? Why not. It’s called karma.
Sometimes I plan my blog posts in advance, but more often it is a night before/morning of kinda thing. The same goes for my cartoons, The Miniscules and The Untitled. Usually the ideas come from a current event (like the Olympics) or a thought that I have had that sparks an interesting idea.
Lately is seems that the weird cartoon ideas have been…well, not so weird, so that part of the blog will be taking a bit of a break. I’ll probably try to build up a bank of them so I have something to post when I need it.
Next week I’ll post a few of my favorites. This week, I’ll grab a cup of coffee and relax.
Psst. You still have to write something for tomorrow.