Writing You

I’ll write you into my life

The words of your being

Etched in my heart

 

Written in my mind

And immortalised in prose

For generations without end

 

Your soul encoded in my skin

In words of love and longing

In blood and pen marked

 

Our story never ends

Nor did it have beginning

As it flows through life

 

Stories told through time

as old as ancient mountains

Tales of wonder and mystery

 

A river of words and dreams

In which we play and dance

Until the ink runs dry

 

The pages still will turn

Recalling our passing

A legacy of life together

The Beginnings of Uncertainty

Here we are then, in the early stages of the struggle to write and be published, having commenced my first novel in January 2014. From certainty to uncertainty, but with determination, the story so far;

Certainty.
My first novel, Ragged Hearts, was finished last year and, having done many edits and rewrites, it is ‘ready’ for publication; other than a cover. The work was planned in detail before commencing the first draft and it was completed according to that plan; both in terms of content and timescale.

From the start I planned to self publish but wanted to wait until my next novel was finished, having read that two books ‘out there’ has more power than twice one book. Correctly marketed each sells the other. Things really start to happen at four or five books, but that is too far in the future to contemplate.
The first draft of my second novel, The Sagittarius Incident, is currently at 71,000 words so it will be at least late summer before editing and rewriting is finished. That seemed like rather a long time for Ragged Hearts to sit around in nowhere land, and so;

Uncertainty.
I began reading about traditional publishing. I had thought about it already and what I read confirmed those thoughts, Essentially, as a new author the process of a publisher taking on your book is a good learning experience, with editors helping you to find yourself as a writer, cover designers, some built in marketing etc. Of course there is also the kudos of being published by a traditional publishing house and seeing your work physically present in a book store. It also states that your work must be of a pretty good standard (though there have been bad novels published). In the indie world one is competing against a vast sea of books and marketing is the key.

Much has been written about the pros and cons of indie vs traditional publishing but my belief is that a new writer is better off being published traditionally, unless you know you have a really savvy marketing plan. Once established it is a different story.

What to do?

The future.
Until the second book is fit for publication I am submitting Ragged Hearts to literary agents, having 6 submissions out there at any one time and with each rejection fire off another.

Rejection – How to handle it.
I believe in Ragged Hearts as a worthy novel but also have a sense of realism. Rejections will come, and they have, to date – 3, and I expect many more!
No worries. Persistence is king. I take heart from the countless examples of authors who have been rejected many, many times before finding success, from Stephen King to J K Rowling and countless others.

Of course, if I were to be taken on  by an agent that is far from the end of the story as they then have to sell to a publisher, A long and uncertain road. If Ragged Hearts hasn’t been taken up by the time The Sagittarius Incident is ready, 8 months or more, I’ll probably self publish both. Though that is subject to change, uncertainty 🙂

In the final analysis I believe hybrid publishing is the future, a mix of indie and traditional. I may just stick in there pursuing the traditional route!!

The Best You Can Be
It is natural to feel dejected in receiving a rejection. My initial reaction was ‘is it good enough?’ My self belief was temporarily shaken. I reread the submitted work and thought no, this is my very best right now. And that is all we can do, give it our best, the utmost of which we are capable. We are learning all the time, as I develop I am quite prepared to reach the stage where Ragged Hearts is given up as a lost cause, despite my current belief in it. Now, that would be painful considering the many months of work I have committed to it. But if I am a much better writer in 3 years time will it still be worthy? Realism friends, this is a hard path to tread. That is why, above all else, you must love writing for the sake of it. You would write even of you knew you would never be published.

I love it! Creating characters, stories, events and worlds; nothing quite like it 🙂

Do your art and let it rock!

Can you relate to this? I welcome comments regarding your own thoughts or experiences 🙂

Home

Home – haiku

 

Ascending

Your breath touches my cheek
with love
Warm, soft and gentle
as a feather

I turn to kiss, our lips meet
my body thrills
I breathe in your life energy
our minds meld

I trace fingers across your skin
you smile
delicious curves intoxicate
you sigh

I follow the contours with my tongue
you open
flesh yields to gentle pressure
we become one

our souls entwine, a spiral of joy
rising high
seeking the love of the universe
we find it

present together in the moment
exalted
soaring higher in rapture and delight
for a brief moment
we see the glory of life, spirit and love
my heart bleeds
and our souls cry out together
for what must pass

we descend, still one in peace and love
holding tight
yearning to return to that state of bliss
to know it
always, our vibrations in tune
‘til one day
we ascend to a state of grace and live it,
for ever more

A new year, another 365 days, 8760 hours. What changes?

Did you make a New Year resolution? I didn’t. We are evolving continuously and the artificial gateway of the dawn of a new year doesn’t alter its progress one iota.

Sure, it is wonderful to party, to get together with fiends and family and celebrate. It is also vital to reflect on the previous year, to take stock, make plans and set goals for the year ahead.

But New Years Resolutions are usually empty promises, created by the feeling that you should make some changes to your life. They are hollow, lacking substance, and are as likely to be thrown away after the heady rush of celebrations as the Christmas cards and wrapping paper.

What then do we do, we, the creators? We who are seeking to reach higher, to push ourselves to achieve. We carry on in flow, from last year to this one.

Be awesome and be humble!

Be Awesome

If you are a writer, a painter or other creative, pursue your art with passion and vigour. Be sure to know yourself, the ‘why’ of your purpose. Strive to be your best and work towards becoming better. Push your work out into the world, if you have given it your all it deserves to be seen. Don’t hide your light under a bushel.

You are unique, you grow by creating, aim for huge! Turn your nose up at fear, face it with the strength and power of your truth. There is nothing to fear except prevaricating over what you know you must do. There is no failure, you can only succeed or quit.

Reflect on last year, honestly. Did you achieve what you set out to? If you didn’t analyse why; gain more knowledge if you need to, learn to manage time if you lacked the hours, practice your art more. Increase your resolve, raise the bar.

Do what you did last year, do it more and do it better, be awesome!

Be Humble

We are a polarity, especially as creators. We are curious breed of being, filled with an urge and passion yet, at the same time, we can feel small and frightened by the challenge. To create work which ours, our mark on the world, takes a degree of ego. It is an act of saying ‘look at me, look at my work’, yet it should not be egotistical.

Your work is part of a greater whole, you are not alone. Be grateful for your gift and the help you have received, all the information others have shared freely on the internet to aid your craft, whatever support you have received from spouse/partner/editor/publisher/readers/reviewers.

Be humble, your work is great, but keep it in perspective. If you didn’t exist the world would go on and there would still be art. Your work adds to the rich tapestry and is a worthy endeavour; follow your calling but see it for what it is with humility and grace.

Love what you do and make it happen from your heart, then share it, that is all that is important.

Be awesome and humble!

A Friendly Quiz

Will you share with me your troubles; will you listen to mine?
Will you laugh with me and cry with me?
Will you hold my hand when life’s road trips me up?
Will you take mine when I offer support?
Will you tell me your deepest desires and understand mine?
Will you look me in the eye and feel comfortable?
Will you meet me half way if we disagree, yet not
compromise yourself, and expect the same from me?
Will you take a drink with me as we tell our life’s tale?
Will you stay by my side when the going gets tough?
Will you love all I am, as I love you?
Until the end of time?
If you can answer all yes, as one,
we shall forever be friends.

The Daily Post

The Last Day

The rain lashed down. It bounced off the pavement with the appearance of a boiling cauldron and streamed in rivers down the window. I sipped my coffee, watching drenched pedestrians rushing for cover from the sudden deluge. I sat with a smug feeling, having entered the café moments before it commenced.

A man entered, wearing a grey trench coat and matching Trilby hat. He appeared to be very old but moved with the grace of a young man as he took off his coat, shook the water off and hung it up, his hat followed. His eyes fixed on mine.

He walked towards me, stopped at my table and sat down on the opposite seat.

“What is your name?” he asked.

My senses were already heightened before his question, now I felt distinctly uncomfortable with his presence, yet, for some reason, I gave it to him.

“Thank God,” he said, “I’ve been searching for you for a long time, a very long time.”

He withdrew a brown envelope from his jacket pocket and pushed it towards me with a liver spotted hand.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Open it and see, please.”

I looked inside and withdrew a key and a piece of paper with the plan of a building.

“What is all this?” I asked.

“All will become clear. You don’t like it here do you?”

“No, but how do you know that?”

“I have the benefit of, let’s say, future knowledge. You can’t afford to go home?”

“No, it’s out of the question. For most of us who come here it’s a one way trip.”

“But I’ve found a way.”

“Who are you?”

The stranger reached into his pocket again and produced a passport.

“Take a look,” he said.

“You have the same name as me!”

“Look closer; place and date of birth.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain. I came here long ago, in the same position as you. In time I completed my research and found a way to manipulate time and returned back here, now, to help you. That key is the way home.”

“Why me?”

“We haven’t got long, I’ll be brief. I am you. Your future. If I can get you home I won’t have to spend my life in this God-forsaken place. The life I have led here will cease to be, a paradox I know; how can I be here now talking to you if I was never here?”

“Quite.”

“But you have to trust me, for both our sakes. Go to the space port, there you will find a disused room, marked with an ‘X’ on the plan. The key will unlock the door and inside is the transporter I brought back from the future. I have left instructions with it, very simple, it is preset to return you home. Time is running out, you must go. Farewell.”

The man rose, retrieved his hat and coat and walked out. In the blink of an eye he was gone, he simply vanished.
What did I have to lose? I hated it here, trapped. Perhaps this is all fantasy but it wasn’t far to the space port. It had to be worth a look.
And that is exactly how I managed to return home. To leave the persistent rain, the dark skies and the dependence on imported food.

They had terra-formed Mars in 2031 giving those brave enough to risk it the promise of a bright, new future. It didn’t turn out that way. It was bliss to get back to Ganymede.

The Daily Post

What did they learn about us?

After the asteroid impact and subsequent global flooding of 2025 AD, now known as Year Zero NE (New Era), it took humanity half a millennium to return to a state of community, culture and science bearing any resemblance to its former state.
Ragged bands of survivors began to cluster together, battles were fought between the newly enlightened individuals and those still living with the ego driven mindset. The enlightened won the planet. Not through force, they shunned violence, but because they worked in harmony with the planet, Gaia, and she protected those who nurtured her pain; the battles were on a mental level. After a few generations the primitive humans had been wiped out by disease, sterility and their own in-fighting, while the enlightened rose to a higher level of vibration.
The world population gradually expanded, settling at a sustainable level of 1 billion people. Such was the sharing of resources nobody had to work in the traditional sense, there was no money. Some worked the land, others built homes, schools and healing centres, some were artists, musicians and writers. Those who worked the land provided food for all. The builders built homes for all. Those engaged in services to their fellow-man had all provided for them in exchange, a home, food and clothes. Everybody worked in a field which came naturally to them. Perfect balance, a state of euphoria existed never known before in the history of man.
As the culture developed, the study of science finally returned. The people knew everything they needed to know, the meaning of life, how to live in harmony with each other and nature in love and compassion. But, still human, they had curiosity about the world around them.
History also returned as a study. There were vague stories of the human state going back to Year Zero, but no knowledge of what was before that – before the Event. In time a group drew together with the intent of carrying out an archaeological investigation to answer the questions. Eventually they found a site that was fruitful, the remains of a city, buried deep below sand and rock. Digging was easy, mankind had developed the power to tune into creation with his mind and use his inner world to affect the outer. The digging was done by levitating the substrate and depositing it a distance away.
They delved into the past and began piecing together how man previously lived. The facts they learnt imbued them with a mixture of surprise, sadness and humour. It took many months to compile their report; much of what they found was so alien to current life it was often difficult to work out the purpose of many articles but eventually, by cross referencing they had everything figured out.
A brief synopsis of their report follows;
Humankind lived in an almost constant state of war. Can you believe this, they actually killed each other for money, land and over religion?
Money, a strange abstract concept, was the source of much grief and led to a great deal of unhappiness.
They didn’t share as we do; one percent of the population owned, contolled and held power over ninety nine percent of Gaia’s resources and people.
They raped and polluted Gaia with incredulous stupidity, slowly killing the planet for short-term gain, see money.
They transported themselves around the planet in cars, aircraft and ships using non renewable fuel taken from Gaia, adding to environmental damage and pollution. A strange and absurd situation. Albeit, they didn’t have our powers of mental projection travel, levitation, and psychokinesis.
As a light aside, we found one object that rather tickled us. They were obsessed with a device called a ‘mobile phone’. By the use of electromagnetic waves they could talk to others from far away, odd behaviou, but then they didn’t have our telepathic ability. The funny thing is they became so complex people didn’t seem to be able to live without them. Not content with one, they had a fascination with developing these things further and craved the next newest phone. Remarkable. And get this, one of the most common uses was something called a ‘selfie’, a photograph of the owner of the device. We found these items in a city which must have housed millions of people, didn’t they have any friends?
The final summary told how it was an interesting venture but they reburied the city, there was nothing they could learn from this primitive race.

The Daily Post

Change

Summer days
of warmth and light,
approach their close,
yielding to autumn,
chased by winter.

Sailing Adventures – part 4

Welcome to the final instalment of our sailing trip in July.

From Carsaig Bay we sailed to Tobermory on the island of Mull, a useful place to re-provision the boat after being out in the sticks for a week or so. Apart from that it is an attractive town to visit, all the seafront houses are painted in a rainbow of pastel colours. This was probably the inspiration for its use in the BBC TV childrens program Balamory, filmed largely at Tobermory and screened between 2002 and 2005.

 Tobermory

Due to the lack of towns in the area it is a crossroads for cruising yachts, few pass by without stopping to use the small supermarket or to sample the selection of pubs and restaurants. So it is a lovely place just to sit and watch the comings and goings of many types of vessel; a seaplane was in attendance when we sailed in.

Waterfall, Tobermory.

There is a pleasant walk along the tree-lined cliff edge which we set out for, only to experience the one day of heavy rainfall in our three weeks away – and without the foresight of waterproof clothing! Here also is a spectacular waterfall, the water heavily coloured by peat absorbed on its run flow down the mountains. It ends in Tobermory Bay and used to be a source of ships drinking water right up to the 1940’s when the Royal Navy had a base in Tobermory.

 Loch Aline

Two days later, a short sail down The Sound of Mull took us to Loch Aline. A secluded loch surrounded by woodland, where we relaxed on the sunny, windless afternoon and evening.

We were now at the turning point of our cruise, beginning the slow journey south, but with plenty of time on our hands to explore more places by taking relatively small hops each day, and our next stop was Puilladobhrain, (a few miles south of Oban) and translated from the Gaelic as ‘the pool of the otter’. In years gone by the small anchorage, surrounded by numerous tiny islets, was home to a community of otters but rumour has it that being such a delightful and popular anchorage in summertime they have moved on to quieter pastures!

  Puilladobhrain

The next day we headed to Loch Craignish for the night, anchoring off a small island, Goat Island. With little time, and thick mist, we contented ourselves with enjoying the tranquillity as the mist lent a peaceful ambiance as it hung around the hills and trees. A writers paradise!

 Loch Craignish/Goat Island

For many years I have wanted to visit our following destination, a very small island – Eilean Mor in the McCormaig Islands. I have never been in such a tiny anchorage; apart from the anchor off the bow I had to tie a line to the shore, where mooring rings are provided to stop boats swinging around in the limited room, especially when more than one are present.

Eilean Mor

Other than two small speed boats paying a short visit when we arrived, we had the island to ourselves for the rest of the afternoon and evening. We rowed ashore and explored the reason I had been wanting to visit. The island is perhaps half a mile by a quarter but there are the remains of an old chapel (used through the years as a chapel, a house and finally an illicit distillery!), a Celtic Cross on the highest hill and a hermits retreat – a damp cave, little more than a hole, in a rock face at the south of the island. Apparently, this was for those souls for whom the lack of people and community on the island wasn’t quiet enough. It is difficult to understand how anyone could contemplate anything spiritual whilst in such extreme discomfort! Nevertheless, for us it was a beautiful place!

Just one more stop remained before our return to Gigha, the starting point for the offshore passage back to our home port on the Isle of Man, Lowlandman’s Bay on the east coast of Jura. A lovely view of the Paps of Jura which we had anchored close to nearly two weeks before on the other side of the island. Other than that, a relatively uninspiring stop, though only in comparison to the stunning places! However, we spent much time laughing at a mother and baby seal on the rocks close to shore. The mother spent the entire time sunning herself on a rock while the youngster splashed about comically, in much the same way a child would play in the bath. Occasionally the mother would turn her head towards junior as if to say ‘keep quiet!’ 🙂

 Lowlandmans Bay, playful seals.

With no wind we motored from there to Gigha, to rest before the long haul. That, however, was broken down into smaller stages, first, Sanda Island a mile south of the Mull of Kintyre. The intention was to take a walk ashore the following morning but a heavy swell made conditions uncomfortable and we made a hasty, early departure.

Approaching the anchorage at Sanda Island

We then sailed across the North Channel, at the north end of the Irish Sea, bound for a small island outside Belfast Lough, Copeland island. Fifteen miles from our destination a small yacht, Lola,  had become disabled, there was no wind and she had lost the use of her engine. They asked us for a tow to Bangor Marina, which I obliged; it’s an unwritten law of the sea to help others, with the philosophy ‘there but for the grace of God go I’, the sea is an unforgiving environment. I happily took the vessel in tow but was a little peeved that we wouldn’t make our destination, strong tides exist in the area and the current was due to turn against us, too soon with the tow. Fortune smiled on us; an inshore life boat RIB was out on an exercise, spotted us, and offered to take over the tow. We were free and just made our chosen anchorage as the tide turned.

 Lola under tow after RNLI vessel took over.

I’ve anchored at Copeland Island many times on passage and have always been the only yacht there. This time was different, it was mid summer, four other yachts were anchored and the next day it became a magnet for visitors from the mainland of Ireland; kayaks and speedboats, a passenger launch with tourists, and more small yachts and sailing dinghies, most people were heading for the lovely white sand beaches to enjoy the sun.

 Copeland Island

The penultimate leg took us down the coast of Northern Island to Strangford Lough, one of the largest sea lochs in Europe, most of which is a nature reserve and Site of Special Scientific Interest. The stay was for one night then we set sail for the Isle of Man, with a perfect, stiff sailing breeze and a steady sea, probably the best sail of the trip, a fine end to the voyage 🙂

Final night, Strangford Lough

If you missed any of the previous posts, here are links to previous episodes;

Sailing Adventures – Part 1

Sailing Adventures – Part 2

Sailing Adventures – Part 3