Off to NaNoLand

So, I'm even more off the grid now than I have been for last several months. This time, though, it's not due to a trip abroad, it's a totally different kind of trip: I'm off to NaNoLand (National Novel Writing Month). Though, this year is rather different from last year. This year, I'm a 'NaNoRebel'. Meaning, that I won't be following the rules of NaNoWriMo. Instread of writing 50,000 words on an unprepared manuscript, my goal is to write 25k-30k words to finish off the manuscript I'm already working on: A BIRD'S EYE VIEW. So, instead of averaging 1,666 words per day, my goal is closer to 800-1,000 words per day. 

As soon as I can get it working, I'll put a word-count widget here on the blog, so you can track my progress (keep me in line!). Thank you for your understanding while I try everything I can think of to get myself to finish this damn WIP!

Off I go!

Weekend Writing Warriors: October 13, 2013

"Dead Flower" by kaneda99

 The Double-Sided Coin

I wanted you

I never needed you

I wooed you

I never believed you

I chose you

I never knew

I couldn't hate you

Without loving you

Please remember to go check out the other fantastic writers at WeWriWa, you won't regret it!

Weekend Writing Warriors

Don't Do What You Love - Unless...

We've all heard it: Do what you love. It sounds so simple. But I think there's more to it than that. 

Do what makes you love yourself. 
Do what makes you feel good about yourself. 

Many assume it's the same thing, but it isn't. Not always.

"Self-love" by Loving Earth

I love to read. When I was fifteen, my family staged a reading intervention on me. They, my parents and two younger brothers, opened my bedroom door (without knocking!), walked in, and sat on the floor facing me as I sat against my headboard reading. I was so stunned by this wildly aberrant behaviour that I did little more than blink for several moments. They all just sat there, and stared at me. Then they told me they were going to stay there until I stopped reading and came out to participate in life. I was livid. I glared at them, a real lazer-eyes burn-you-to-a-crisp glare. I'm stubborn, what can I say? After a prolonged and very uncomfortable stare-down, they gave up and left me there with my wall of books. I was so mad, and so embarrassed, and so sad when they walked out. As much as I love to read, it's never made me feel particularly good about myself.

On the flip-side, I hate to write. I find it immeasurably difficult and tedious and frustrating. But, I LOVE having written (hence the frighteningly apt Dorothy Parker quote at my profile; at least I'm not the only one). Even if I've written crap, I love how I feel about myself after I've written. Something inside me rests. I always smile and sort of do this bragging-to-myself thing, where I read and re-read what I've just written, as though I've just topped Mt. Everest or something equally painful and monumental. Sometimes, I forget how good writing makes me feel about myself. Sometimes, I get caught in that DO WHAT YOU LOVE trap, which is fatal for my writing and almost as bad for my social and mental health. 

As I'm writing this post, I'm on my second day pulling out of a minor bumbed-out-rut-thing. Last week, I read nearly fifteen books in 6 days. I wrote nothing. I felt like crap. Yesterday, I felt compelled to write down the details of a memory from my corporate-working-girl days. Then I felt better. Doing what I love, is not loving myself. Doing what is hard, but rewarding - that is loving myself. 

I must never forget the subtle difference.

I hope it's easier for you. I hope doing what you love makes you glory in yourself. I hope it brings you peace and soul-satiation. And if it doesn't, I hope you'll find something that does - even if you hate it.

XOXO, AJ

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And because I'm still doing that bragging-to-myself re-reading thing, here is the memory that I wrote yesterday:

Pickle Jar

She watched the four guys at the lunchroom table wrestling with the giant jar of pickles and smiled to herself. Well, she thought it was to herself, but apparently one of them noticed.

“Don’t laugh, we really want these pickles,” he said, grinning.

She walked over to the table. “Here,” She reached for the jar. “Let me try.”

One of the other guys leaned back, eyebrows raised, “We’ve all taken a turn, what makes you think you can open it?”

She smiled, “I’m a girl.”

She took the jar to the counter and grabbed the dullest butter knife she could find from the cutlery drawer. She slid the tip of the knife under the lid as far as it would go, then angled it away from the jar. Her lips trembled, she tried so hard to restrain her triumphant grin as the air trapped in the jar hissed out and the lid popped. She withdrew the knife and easily unscrewed the lid from the jar.

She had to use both hands to carry the enormous jar back to the table, it was so heavy. They stared at her as she set it down in front of them.

“I don’t get it. How did you do that?” one of them asked.

With a cheeky smirk, she unapologetically gloated. “I told you, I’m a girl. I solve problems with my brain.”

Then she left, walking out of the room with swag.

Weekend Writing Warriors: July 14, 2013

Weekend Writing Warriors

It's #8sunday again! To join the gang, check out the rules HERE, it's super easy and tonnes of fun.

Last week I said that I'd start posting sentences from The Legend of the White Raven today. I hope you'll forgive me for changing my mind. I will totally post it soon, but for this week, I wanted to run with my hot hand, which has been working on a story so old, and so secret, that it isn't even in the Lore of the Islands. It's the Legend of the Sleeping Fox. I hope you like it (even though it's only 7 sentences, so far)!

 



There is only one person in all the world that knows of the Little Fox, and he has not yet been born. 

She sleeps in her den in the forest that has never been seen. 

She waits for him to come. 

She waits and dreads, as all sentinels do. 

His awakening will bring with it the Great Change. 

The Great Change will bring with it, She-Who-Left. 

When She-Who-Left returns, the world will burn.

"Morpheus" by Lindsey Carr

Don't forget to check out excerpts from the other writing warriors. I dare you not to get addicted to some of these great stories!

Weekend Writing Warriors: July 7, 2013

Weekend Writing Warrios

It's been quite a while, but I'm back!

If you're interested in joining WeWriWa, here are the rules. Do it, it's so fun!

Here are eight more sentences of Creation, the lore of the Dakina Islands. 

I left off (way back in March!) my last 8 with Sahlaana abandoning her children. Each of the gods took an island for him/herself and refused to reconcile. On the tiny island of Dakina, a smaller drama began to unfold...






And so there came a time of great disharmony among the islands of Dakina.
Each god turned his back on his brothers and sister.
Each god swallowed his loneliness and wore his pride on his forehead.
On Taijala's island, the New People in the north were reviled by the First People in the south, who warred with them.
These wars lasted for many generations until, finally, the First People left the broken people of the bear alone in the dark woods, tribe-less and weak.
For a time, there was quiet; each island a world unto itself.
The gods became lazy and sick, refusing to acknowledge that in breaking the world into bits, they had fractured themselves, separating the Body from the Mind and Heart and Spirit.
The people became faithless, and the world magic-less…except on the tiny island where lived Taijala, Guardian of the Spirit. 

This ends the creation myth for the world of A BIRD'S EYE VIEW. My next excerpts will tell the various stories and legends of each island, beginning with The Legend of the White Raven. But you'll have to tune in again next week for it!

As always, thanks for reading! Don't forget to check out excerpts from the other writing warriors starting HERE!

Unpacked

(This post is reblogged from MyCakeFace: Random Bloggery by AJ Bradley)

This is what my backpack looks like after it's been gutted unpacked. It makes me sad. Which is why I haven't blogged since getting home. I have already blogged a lot about my sadnesses and frustrations and I decided a while back that enough was enough; I didn't want to post so much negativity any more. I hope I have made some progress with that goal. But I'll be horrifyingly honest, I've had a very hard time readjusting to my cage home life since coming back from my trip in April.

 
I haven't written. I haven't been to the beach, or the park, or the woods. 

I pace around the house feeling restlessly exhausted: too fidgety to sit still, too tired to do anything.

Every day, I pull up the files of pictures from the trip, like a broken-hearted adolescent stalking her ex's facebook page. I marvel at the wondrous things I saw, experiences I had, food I ate, smells, sounds, ice-cold fingers in Prague, and italian driving induced panic-sweats in Positano. I smile, for awhile. And then I feel, drained. I close the files more sad than before I'd opened them. I think maybe I'll take a nap, but my eyes won't stay closed.

I know what I need to do. I need to do the same thing I did the last time I had to pull myself out of a depression. I remind myself of those old mantras:

Don't think, just do.
Fake it till you make it.

So, today I unpacked the last few unessentials still camping out in the bottom of my pack. My toiletries bag, my electricity converter, my well-used compass. I lovingly oiled the zippers and cut off the airline tags. Then I put my backpack in my closet (NOT back out in the garage). 

I came out to the living room and kissed my son. We went out on the deck and planted the garlic bulb my mom brought back with us from Rome. It will grow, here in Canada, and we'll eat garlic that came from Italy, here in Canada. We'll go to the beach, to the park, to the woods. We'll see wondrous things, have amazing experiences, eat, smell, and hear the beauty of home.

I'll get back to writing (starting with this blog post).

I won't think, just do. And, eventually, as before: I won't be faking it at all.

My mom and BoyChild at White Rock Beach, Canada

Adventure Awaits

Adventure Awaits via pinterest

Well folks, the blog is going on hiatus again.

BoyChild and I will be travelling with my family for the duration of April.

I will be back in May with more WeWriWa excerpts and new blog posts.

If you have any interest in following our adventure in Europe online, I'd love to see you at my Tales of a Nomad facebook page and/or my other blog: MyCakeFace: Random Bloggery by AJ Bradley.

I hope you all have a fantastic extra long Easter weekend and I look forward to seeing you again in May!

XOXO
AJ

Weekend Writing Warriors: Mar. 24, 2013

Weekend Writing Warriors

Ah, Sundays are coming so fast, I almost missed this one!

If you're interested in joining WeWriWa, here are the rules. Give it a try, it's a blast!

This will be my last #8sunday until May because....I am going on a trip for the duration of April (WOOT!). If you have any interest in following my adventure in Europe, check out my other blog: MyCakeFace: Random Bloggery by AJ Bradley and/or my Tales of a Nomad facebook page.

Now, on to the excerpt! We left off with Sahlaana's sons pitching a fit and breaking the land into islands after they discovered their sister gave birth to a generation of people fathered by the mysterious bear.



Sahlaana was angry and in her rage, she abandoned her children and their people.
She warned them that there would be consequences to breaking Awaya’s earth.
Then she descended deep into the earth's core.
Taijala begged her brothers for reconciliation, afraid of the strain their desertion put on the net.
But each of them turned their backs on her and hid their regret under their anger.
Taijala and her children, the New People, migrated to the north of their tiny island in the eastern sea.
A small group of The First People lived on the tiny island; they stayed to the south, apart from the “others”. 
They blamed Taijala and the New People for causing Sahlaana to forsake them.


Don't forget to check out excerpts from the other writing warriors here! 

Happy Spring. Happy Easter. Happy April.
I hope to see you again in May!

Weekend Writing Warriors: Mar.17, 2013

Weekend Writing Warriors

It's #8sunday again. If you're interested in joining, check out the rules here.

When I left off last week, Taijala, the ruler of air and Guardian of the Spirit, had shared the workings of the Spiritworld with the people that Sahlaana had created.

The next part of the creation myth is the bear story that I shared on Feb.10th wherein Taijala mated with a mysterious bear that appeared as if from nowhere on the beach of Dakina.

This is what happens after the bear has continued on his way:




Taijala gave birth to an entire generation of people, the New People.
The New People were different; they had a magic all their own, the magic of the beasts inherited from their father, the bear.
The gods were angry with Taijala and afraid of this new magic.
Sahlanna's children fought.
Tiga, ruler of earth and Guardian of the Body, stomped his foot and broke Dakina into four separate islands.

Tanga, ruler of water and Guardian of the Mind, moved to the northernmost island and ruled its people.
Tana, ruler of fire and Guardian of the Heart, took the island and its people in the east.
Tiga stayed on the largest land mass in the centre, and he broke off the southern region where Sahlaana and Taijala were and kicked it far out into the Endless Sea.





Don't forget to visit the WeWriWa website to read excerpts from the other writing warriors!