Finding the Rhythm
On gloomy days when the doldrums are ruling my world, sometimes all it takes is a favorite song to shake the blues off. "Woe is me" is replaced by "Whoa!" and like magic, the rhythm of life is back in effect.
Dig, after a snake/liar threw a whole lot of undeserved shade on me, I started questioning everything and everyone. Trust? What's that? Lol. Anyhow, I stepped away from writing, unsure of my prowess, my desire, or if anybody would ever read my stuff. "Woe is me" was in heavy rotation.
One Sunday morning while cooking breakfast with my IPod providing music, a song began to play, redirecting my thoughts and reigniting my passion. 'Sympathy for the Devil' by the Rolling Stones rang ever so clear that morning, so much that I played it three times.
If you've never listened to the song, it basically tells of historical and biblical events from the devil's point of view. Ha! As I sang along, the vipers in my life gained perspective; they're evil and vicious because they can't help themselves. "Pleased to meet you, won't you guess my name?"
After breakfast, I dusted off keyboards and notebooks, and released my mojo from the mental prison I'd been keeping it in. The sporadic outbursts I'd been experiencing for awhile were no more, banished for the foreseeable future. I found my rhythm.
'Aileen's Notebook' and 'Atchafalaya,' two stalled short stories, began to move again. I flipped back and forth between these two dark stories when 'Fighting Mr. Jones' sprouted in my head. Fuck. I wrote two chapters of 'Fighting Mr. Jones' and began shuffling between the three stories, all of them growing in length, direction, and purpose. A love affair between a suspecting man and a woman with a dark side, a veteran attempting to save his own life while malignant forces whisper suicidal thoughts in his ear, and a heroin addict functioning as best he can on a daily basis. I outlined the stories, playing connect the dots, and all of them were on the road to completion... but then, my mojo went ballistic.
I was toying with the idea of self-publishing my novel 'Eleven Fifty-Nine' frustrated by the few rejections I received from agents and publishers all hell bent on finding copies of recent bestsellers. My novel is original, not comparable to anything I've read by anyone else. For real. I designed a cover, just playing around, and posted it on Facebook.
Those who've read it were enthused that it was finally going to see the light, and my inbox was flooded with well-wishes. One person though, who beta read the first draft and the finished product, implored me not to give in, to be more patient with this process than I've ever been with anything. Everyone knows impatience is a huge issue that I struggle with. This time I listened, restraining myself from rushing, and I agreed to set a date in the spring of 2018, at which time I'll either have a contract or the book will be published through Amazon. Thank you Traci Lynn Hayes.
My wife knew the different stories I was working on, yet she made a suggestion which obliterated those stories reaching their conclusion. Her suggestion? "Have you ever thought of writing a sequel to Eleven Fifty-Nine?"
Um, hell no. I don't like sequels. Later that night, as I drove down the highway, the characters from the book started running through my mind; Flora Jean, Bobby Jr., Lily, Jasper. Shit. The prequel/companion story started writing itself. 'Singing to Butterflies' is roaring along, 15,000 words so far, eleven chapters, and the rest is outlined, and I'm rushing to the finish line.
I send finished chapters to my betas about once a week, listening to their suggestions and taking notes. They know we're basically "baking a cake" with the first draft, and after the "cake" is finished, I'll go back to add cream filling, decorations, icing, and whipped cream on top. Thanks y'all.
So, shout-out to the Lucifers who were on the periphery of my life and did their best to rain on my parade. I see their names on other people's social media posts and part of me wants to issue a warning. But nah, the Devil always has a part to play, because that's his nature... (Woo, Woo,).
