Living in the Light, Writing in the Dark

 

 

I’m thrilled to be over at Myths of the Mirror today where the talented, gracious, lovely author D. Wallace Peach has allowed me to pants my way through a guest post about the light and darkness of life and writing:

 

I’ve been asked how it is (or why it is) that I write a light-hearted, pseudo-humorous blog then turn around and pen some seriously dark fiction. I’m here to answer that question.

I am Dr. Jekyll.

Okay, I’m not. Or I could be. You don’t know.

Buckle your seat belts. We’re in for a bumpy ride. I’ve no idea where I’m going with this.

Here’s the thing about me. I’m a conversational writer. People often say I write in a stream of consciousness narrative. That’s fair. I do. It’s why I like pantsing. (In the writing sense, that is. I’d never pull your trousers down to humiliate you. No, I would not.)

Continue reading here: Living in the Light, Writing in the Dark

 

She has also included a gorgeous review of Hinting at Shadows:

 

A string of story pearls

I just finished Hinting at Shadows and had to rave a little about this book of short fiction. When Brentyn says short, she means short. Most of the stories are about 100 words, what I refer to as flash fiction. I enjoy flash fiction, but wasn’t sure about reading a whole book of it. I was pleasantly surprised, to say the least.

Every story is a pearl. The writing is exquisite and full of pathos with a focus on the poignancy of the human condition. Hinting at Shadows is the perfect title as each story is a tiny hint at a larger human story, one that is characterized by shadows – sometimes secrets, but more often complex feelings of loneliness, regret, longing, disappointment, and hope.

It would be possible to whip through this book in a couple hours, but I think it’s meant to be savored, just as one might read poetry. So that’s what I did. It’s perfect for someone who enjoys filling their free moments with words or someone who just loves beautiful writing.

 

Thank you, Diana! ❤

Hinting at Shadows is on sale for .99 for a limited time.
Click here to purchase a copy. 🙂

 

There’s Gonna Be Some Changes Around Here (Oh, and a #CoverReveal)

 

Been talking a lot about joy. Making changes, both on and offline, and living the most joy-filled life I can. (Trying, at least.)

There’s been some dancing in the rain, eating of chocolate, drinking of wine, deleting of emails…

Also, a social media makeover, hugging trees, letting go of lists, listening to AC/DC, saying “NO” to things, and “YES!” to others.

What I’ve noticed very recently is that I’m starting to slip. I’m swamped, drowning, stressed…

So I’m going to revisit my list of things that are important (my health, my family, self care…) and things that are not, then adjust my life and time accordingly. Which means I may or may not be blogging regularly. I have a lot going on. I will not blog when it overwhelms my already-overwhelming life. But I will blog when it brings me joy.

You know what else brings me joy? Writing. I’m currently (happily) working on my novel (due out 2018) and have finished my second collection of flash fiction due out this fall. Cover completed. Formatting now. 🙂

 

 

Thank you, gentle readers, for your continued encouragement and support. Whether it’s been on social media, behind the scenes, or on this blog where you’ve read, liked, commented, and created the amazing atmosphere I love here at Lemon Shark.

On the Edge of a Raindrop will be available Fall 2017.  🙂

 

Thanks, again, to the lovely Rachael Ritchey for designing my cover.

The Day My Muse Sent Her Sister

 

 

“Oh, no,” I gasped.

She rolled her eyes.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I whined. She’d only visited once before, when I’d stopped writing and started wallowing in self-pity. I didn’t know why, but I knew I was in for it. My muse’s sister is a diva.

“Let’s get this over with,” she huffed. “I’ve got a manicure at three.”

I turned my chair to her. “Fine.”

She put her hand on her hip. “You’re not funny. I mean, your sense of humor is so dry, it needs a chaser. Or a shot of tequila. Or both.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She started ticking off my offenses on her fingers. “You’re sarcastic and snarky.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Every once in a great while, you manage a bit of wit but that’s it. And you’re completely crazy with your alliteration and internal rhyming.”

“I’m not the only one,” I mumbled.

“Also, the adverbs.”

“Whoa, now… I am firmly in the adverb camp. I don’t care what the ‘experts’ say, adverbs are very cool. Seriously.”

“Oh, and, you’re a commaholic. So there’s that.”

“Yes, well…”

“I’m running out of fingers to count your faults.” She crossed her arms and began tapping her foot. “What’s with the fragments?”

“Love ‘em. Huge fan. Big, big fan of fragments.”

She raised one eyebrow, “Not that I mind, personally, but you swear.”

“Sometimes. Like the smooth ones that effortlessly slide into a conversation and enhance the hell out of it.” I smiled. “I’m picturing Rhett standing by the door, ready to walk out but turning to Scarlett and saying, ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.’ What a spectacular moment.”

“Actually, it was,” she swooned. “But watch your mouth.”

“No, no. See, I’m trying to be more…me. Not giving a damn what others think.”

“Honey, you should care what I think because… Eh, keep the swears. But I’m about to call the parentheses police on you!!!”

I bit my lip, “I do have a lot of those, don’t I? Still, would you mind not using so many exclamation points?” I held my stomach. “I think I’m exclamation point intolerant.”

“Excuse me?” She glared.

I lifted my chin and smirked. “Glares are fine.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You. Are impossible.”

“Was this supposed to help me with something?”

“No. I’m here for the fun of it. I love spending my time with writers,” she spat the word.

I leaned back in my chair. “Still not clear what this was supposed to accomplish.”

“Don’t even.”

“I won’t, erm, even.”

She looked around. “I do like what you’ve done with the place. It’s not me but,” she tapped her chin. “Very…you.”

“Thank you…” I waited.

“Are we done here?”

“Hey, you’re the one who…”

“Whatever.” She waved her hand. “You should cut back on the ellipses, too. When’s the new book coming out?”

“Ah. I see. Well, the collection of short fiction will be published this fall. The novel, next summer.”

“Good.” She was already walking away. “I’ll let Miss Muse know.”

 

 

Please check out Diana’s hilarious post about her muse. Thanks, Diana, for the fun read and inspiration to spend some quality, fictional time with our own muses. (Or, you know, their siblings.) 😉

 

Image source

My Virtual Facelift

 

You’ve probably noticed I’ve been taking stock lately. Assessing. Appraising. You know…having a mid-life crisis.

In a good way. And without the new cherry-red corvette.

I’m trying to get my sh*t together. Deciding what truly matters to me. Getting rid of what I don’t care about and making room for what I do care about.

Part of this wonderful evaluation was the rediscovery of joy last week. (Which I intend to keep up.)

Another part of this includes online stuff, such as my little Lemon Shark and its sister, Lemon Shark Reef. As you can see, there’s been some changes around here.

I’ve talked about how far removed from myself I’ve become. This space (as well as my other online platforms) has not represented me or my writing for a long while. I decided to do something about that. I went ahead and got a virtual facelift.

I’m remodeling. Seeing what works. Creating something that brings…wait for it…joy. I’m feeling more at home here already.

Oh, and that picture up there? It’s all mine. It’s me. I’m in love with that amazing, gritty, broken, beautiful heart. It speaks to me. It also captures my writing perfectly. Darkness, emotion, imperfection, beauty… I call it my distressed heart. Yup, that’s about right.

It was tough to think about getting rid of so much. I tend to stick with stuff. (I haven’t changed anything in three years.) But, when the time came, it was easy to do.

It’s freeing to let go. When our hands are empty of what we no longer need, they’re able to reach for what we now want.

 

My Sunday thoughts in (slightly over) 200 words.

Why do we hold on to things that no longer suit us? Are we afraid of change? Do we become too comfortable or set in our ways? Or do we just put it off for “another day” until we realize two years have gone by?