“A true spiritual aspirant will never be frightened by any circumstances, hence, move on, angel, move on!” ~BJG
Oh the drama of it all. I think you’ve gathered by now that I, as a writer, can take a broken nail and spin it into a web of a story. I’m like that. I was at my m-i-l’s the other day, and all she did was ask, “How’s it going out on the farm?” I began my tale with my old treadle sewing machine, placed in some thread and began weaving a delightful tale.
Instead of the simple answer, “Great, life is great.” I began, “Well the potato harvesting began roaring onto the fields with machines I’ve never seen in my life. I loved the way they swept the field and one by one an army-full of semi trucks carried away the plump juicy potatoes. And we have an Elk, living in the woods, whom I named Eli thinking it was a male last year, but when I heard the baby by it’s side I realized, Eli, was Eliza, still named Eli for short.
I went on as I always do. “You wouldn’t believe the images out there, wild turkeys walking up the road, Black-eyed Susan’s galloping over every open space, and the turkeys being grown for their shipment into slaughter. Yes siree, life out there on that farm is pretty awesome.”
I add drama to every thing in my life and as my followers more than likely can tell, I speak truth, I just have a tendency to color my world. It is like my brain is a living thesaurus, and believe you me if I can’t think of the right word, I’ll dig to find it.
That is what writing is all about. You weave a colorful story, embellish the truth a bit, not too much so it is a very believable story, but paint it just so the reader becomes a part of the fabric. He/she becomes so engrossed in the flow of every word, the stroke of every key, a part of the very scene, that they jump into the fantasy that you’ve created for them.
Rose Madder by Stephen King was like that. It started off, an abused woman who lived in fear, and one day she just woke up and walked away, fearing for her life, but she did it! She made a new life for herself too, but wouldn’t you know it, her hubby found her, as all abusive husbands do and what happened is... you’ll have to read it and find out.
She bought a picture and somehow Mr. King painted many levels of the canvas for us, the reader. A story in a story if you will. That is what I strive to do in my life. I try to paint a picture of myself, a portrait for you to glance at. Then I embellish it by wearing jeans, fixing my hair all nice and applying makeup, but never really hiding the true me underneath.
In my words you may find the drama, but underneath it all, you will see the true me shining through. And know that deep down, the true me is a writer, through and through.
Growth is the only evidence of life. ~John Henry Newman, Apologia pro vita sua, 1864