Writing

My life has become a crazy, confusing, chaotic, jumble of a beautiful thing. Everything has changed in the last few months, especially me. In this nameless place, my life-raft remains and sustains writing.

Sometimes all that matters is that you get some words down, even if they’re the wrong words. Write what you want, your secret fantasies, find a way to make them real, make them make sense, build a world around them and live them. Let submerging yourself in them ease the ache of living a life you wouldn’t have built for yourself. Write what you see, what you know, what you want to know. Put every beautiful thing you’ve ever seen into your stories so others see. Explain your pain so that others can feel it, taste it, cry over it. Tell a story and sweep others away with it, take them with you and show you the place you’ve built in your head.

Really you’re doing it for yourself, but readers will thank you. Build a safe space for yourself and others, a blanket fort in the livingroom of beautiful words and thoughts and feeling.

The more we write about magic the more it becomes real, don’t let it fade away. What does your magic look like?

Ask hard questions, of yourself and others. Don’t accept the easy answer! Focus on the answers, let them linger and build something in your mind, an answer or a story. Let them build words, let them build worlds. Do not run from the hard questions because they must exist or they would have never come to you. Be brave and ask, be brave and answer.

Write because it creates. Because it creates you.

When I Write

When I was 20 years old, I was told that some day, I would write love the way people have been trying to capture it for generations.

That statement has become one with my spirit, it isn’t discouraging or overwhelming, it is driving. It is part of the fuel that keeps me writing, that keeps me awake when there is story that need written.

I never had plans of sharing my writing. I can hear the snorts of laughter and incredulity from people who have read my blogs. Yes, I’m more used to the idea now, but writing started as my Emily Dickinson time capsule.

When he said that, it forced me into the light. 13 years later, that thought has grown. More than wanting to write something that makes people feel, I want to write something that lingers. I want 1000 years from now, when we are the ancients and someone is excavating my house, for them to find my tales and feel like the person who first read Homer felt.

I want to write something that adds to what we are as a people.

I was reading a paper for a school assignment called The Sound of Ice by Tyler Lacoma and he said:

“The stories of the Eskimo peoples have collapsed beneath us. Ka-krack. All we have are pieces. Legends and tales were passed down, orally, from family to family until they grew so fragile they now crumble to dust at a glance. It’s hard to explain how this feels, until you understand that these little fairy tales are the lifeblood of a people. Who are the Greeks without grey-eyed Athena and cunning Odysseus? Who are the Norse without grinning Loki and blustering Thor? Something…but less.”

I haven’t even finished the paper (I am so relived to finally be assigned to read something in a class I actually like so far) but I feel the weight of words that feel like a mission statement…. And I wrote a quick short story in Seraphim City, the first in months.

I should be doing homework but this is better.

The Story

When I was very little, my grandfather would set me on his knee, open a picture book or magazine and ask me what was happening in the picture. We would sit for hours (or as it seemed to a small child) and make up stories about the political comics or what an eagle was thinking in the wildlife shot. I remember reading Anne of Green Gables years later and finally feeling like someone got my brain. There was a chapter where she said she had invented colorful back stories for all the members of her church. Yes! This was me all the time!

People always ask what I read. I don’t read much any more. People ask what I write. I haven’t written a lot or at least anything you can find. But I have a love affair with stories, sometimes loving the world the story was written and the back story more. I probably was the only person who want to know more about Hobbiton or wished there had been a chapter or two more on Diagon Alley.

There have been more disappointing news with my stories coming to life, I’ve had trouble getting together with my new artist but every time we speak he says he’s still interested in the project but with a surgery coming, everything gets to be pushed back again. Even with all that, don’t give up on me and I will continue to fight to make these stories real!

Taken by Death

i Just saw a posting that said Sir Terry Pratchett was “taken by death.” What a fun visual. It sounds romantic in a way people don’t talk about death, he didn’t die, he was taken, and from his writing I’m going to assume there was a conversation about potatoes and they danced off together… Followed by a trunk with many feet… 

Just for the record, when I die, I want my obituary to say “taken by pterodactyl!” I’m counting on all of you to make this happen.



The Search for the Right Artist

Well, it is now week 4 of the hunt for the perfect artist to join the Seraphim City team. I honestly had no idea how involved this would be. As before, my requirements were; nice, talented, and local. I can’t really see myself handing my “baby” over to someone who can’t sit across from me, share an intelligent conversation and get excited about the projects potential (yes I want anyone who would join up to come to comic con with me!) Meanwhile, my faith in humanity has taken a bit of a bruising with last minute cancelations, creepy inquiries, ridiculous price tags and people who just plain can’t follow basic instructions.

Thankfully, I feel like the search is at an end and I’m hoping that by the beginning of next week I will be announcing our new artist. Not having an artist has greatly deflated the fun of blogging and my writing on every level. It is only the passion and faith of my family that has kept me going through this setback. At the end of the day though, I have committed to making Seraphim City a reality through this blog and the graphic novels that will come into being! Thank you for your patience!

Jill

Remembering the smartest thing I ever said…

They say that anything worth having comes with a cost, usually in blood, sweat, and tears. But let’s be honest and add money, time, and heartache to that list.

I want the stories of Seraphim City to come to life, but the obstacles are stacking up. The most recent bump in the road has made me heart sore and I’ve lost my zest and joy for posting about it.

With that in mind, I remembered the smartest thing I ever said; two years ago my gf was upset about the turns life had taken and I said:

“It is not about being “derailed” in your life. Derailed means a train with neat tracks, built years before with clear and easy starting points and destinations. You are a mother, there is no train to drive you through life!
You are riding a Yak, through a tropical rain forest, there are no roads and the Yak disagrees with your life choices. This is your life, embrace the yak! ”

It is still completely true but I still feel defeated. I’m gonna stare at the yak photo for a little while and hopefully it will propel me forward, even if it does disagree with me…

Jill