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In search of a cozy lair ...

6/25/2014

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Writing is much inspired by environmental options, which are quite particular to each writer.  While some may work best ensconced in a quiet garret, others might prefer a bit of noise in semi-seclusion. 

I find that my taste generally runs to the latter, since my muse enjoys the soft murmuring of subdued conversations all about, and she loves warm, cuddlesome settings that run rich in deep wooden hues.

I am fortunate to live in a town that supports a plethora of intimate cafes, mainstream coffee shops, and a great many restaurants.  And yet, I am often troubled while trying to compose in public places.

The difficulties arise when the room I've been quietly working in for an hour or so begins to get noisy.  Here I had this place much to myself, but suddenly there is a game playing on the big screen TV!

Corporate fetes, private parties, and all manner of gatherings seem to find me out and, though they have every right to be there, they tend to edge me out of the room with ever increasing decibels of clamor.

And so, I gather up my things, gulp down the last of a cookie, and toss away what's left of my coffee as I make speedily for the door.  At least it was peaceful, and ever so perfect, before the horde moved in.

Such is my recurring lament, for I am caught between the dry and solitary isolation of working at home, and a temperamental muse that is incredibly hypersensitive to environmental ambiance.       

Thus, I roam about this town like a nomad in search of oasis after oasis.  Still there is the benefit of getting a bit of exercise between seats, and the agreeable fresh air ... but try telling that to my muse. 


 
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Counting rain drops ...

6/18/2014

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Umbrellas were popping open everywhere as we walked about the gardens of Giverny during a particularly rainy afternoon that was bathed in the scent of so many flowers blooming in the wet, rich soil. 

I always feel most inspired on stormy days.  There is just something about burgeoning, darkening clouds, and a cool, humid atmosphere which compels me to write.  But alas, I reside in a semi-arid region.

This poet thrives on inclement weather, and surging coastal waves. Months and months of clear, sunny days do not amuse my muse, so I am compelled to draw upon memories, such as that day in Giverny.

Years of living within walking distance of the beach, snowy days in wintry mountains, and all manner of intemperate atmospheres come to mind when the skies above are a perpetual, empty blue.

The photo, above, is one of many that I took of the property that Claude Monet called home, as a hedge against these arid days of Summer, and I can still recall the sounds and aromas of that garden. 

Immersive writing, which I often cite, is all the easier when one has stored up indelible recordings, capturing every possible nuance, within one's mind for later use; a skill which I honed long ago.


At some point during my adolescence, it occurred to me that I might not always have ready access to my beloved seashore.  That's when I began to use my mind as a camera, capturing long moments within  environments that would later prove to be pivotal to my writing.   

Eventually, I learned how to best feed my muse, discovering in the process that she has a remarkable appetite for elemental drama ... and that the grass is always greener where rain drops fall.



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When all is lost ... start over.

6/11/2014

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Why is it that, for all my many, many years of writing, I have but two books of poetry to show for it by now?  The sad truth is ... over time, I have unaccountably lost much of my work to frequent moves.

Search though I have thousands of times, (well, maybe hundreds of times), through bookcases, boxes, and bins, those former works staunchly refuse to show themselves.  Oh what to do...

Oddly, this has encouraged and inspired to write more pieces, more frequently, and to finally present them in book form.  After all, how can I lose these poems now that they are in so many other hands?

But I do so miss my earlier work, especially when vague vignettes of their phrases and feelings, bubble up to the surface in my mind, yet prove too intangible to grasp at before they float who knows where.

And so, Echoes and Echoes ll were born out of loss, which is actually  rather fitting for poetry.
 
I find this moderately gratifying, in as much as those missing works have not been entirely wasted after all.

The notion of succumbing to a hypnotist's talents in order to resurrect that which is lying dormant in my memory has intrigued me, to be sure, but I prefer to hope in actually finding my old poems.

For the time being, I am writing like never before regarding both volume and content.  My muse is all the more active, and I have finally learned not to ever put her off when she speaks.  That's a win!    
 
 
Image posted by www.drumandbass.hu
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Adventures in creating a community.

6/4/2014

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Whenever I attend a writer's conference or convention, I always end up making the most wonderfully supportive and inspiring friends. Such was my first experience at the Clockwork Alchemy Convention.

I had only just published my first book of poetry, Echoes, Neo-Victorian Poetry.  The authoring world was an unknown planet to me then.  Fortunately, I was assigned to a table in Author's Row.

My fellow writers welcomed me and shared with me those things that pertain to writing and publishing, both in their panel discussions and during our occasional conversations together in the hotel hallways.

Spending an entire weekend with those who share your passion for writing is incredibly enabling and validating.  It means that you are standing shoulder to shoulder with other writers as one of them.

Having attended many such events, I highly recommend new writers to seek out every opportunity to visit other authors, to get to know them, to ask them how they got started, and to ask for their advice.

The San Francisco Writer's Conference is a great event for the new, and the published, author.  There, one can meet agents, publishers, editors, and other authors who will gladly share their knowledge.

If one has a particular focus in one's writing, looking for events that feature those interests helps, such as I have been doing from within the Steampunk community.  Hopefully, there will be authors there.

I took that first, huge step into author opportunities, and then I continued forward, one foot in front of the other.  Now I am in a unique support group with other indie writers and publishers.

By the time I had published Echoes, I was already in the mix. Looking back, I sometimes wish that I had known to do all of this so much sooner.  Perhaps such things simply tend to come about in their own good time.  Either way, I am happily where I am today.




  
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    About the author:

    I've written many poems over the years.  This blog is a preview of my books: Echoes, Neo-Victorian Poetry (April 2013), Echoes ll, More Neo-Victorian Poetry (May 2014), Echoes lll, Even More Neo-Victorian Poetry, (August 2016), A Compilation of Echoes. (September 2016), and When None Command (April 13, 2019)

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