Breathing life into your writing

Writing. Writer. Write.

The art or act of writing pulls or feeds energy into or from your very soul.

Writing can be an act of recording or creating.

Creating requires every morsel of brain waves, heart emotions, desires of life not yet achieved, recounting life experiences, jubilation of emotional joy already felt, expression of life personally lived or that one desires to live.

It begins with a thought, then a word, a phrase, a sentence,then a paragraph until a recounting of of a tale has been accomplished.

Creating a written work, can be draining and at the same time exhilarating.

But one thing is sure, writing has its own breath of life.

If our creative muse is on empty, we may have to intervene and breathe life back into our writing.

How do we do that?

Get rid of the clutter in our heads. Get rid of the cobwebs on our brains. Clean the house so to speak.

If our minds are already filled, there is no room for new thoughts or inspirations to flow in, so make space! Find some quiet time or just silence without visual stimulation and the thoughts flow. If there is space, they will come.

After years of being a professional writer, for the first time, this year I am taking a one week vacation. So far, in my writing world,it has begun to refill my creative batteries. I have had time to ponder the direction I want to go and to think about goals I want to set and goals I have achieved. It's been a good thing.

Is your creative muse having trouble getting through to you? Do you no longer feel the passions that drive you as a writer?

Don't let the batteries go out of power.

Stop. Silence the constant chatter of the world. Make a space in your mind and feed your writing passions.

Breathing life into your writing, will ignite your passion like it has never been before.

Go forth in purpose and there, joy is the reward.

Christmas 2015

                             
Christmas for me is not only a current event as it occurs, but a trip through my memory, back to my days of youth and the days of yester years. It's not just about material gifts, but also about the imprint of heart gifts. Do we really cherish things, storing them in our minds and hearts, keeping them there for safe keeping until we need to visit them again?  Sometimes we discover quite by accident or maybe by soul searching that our memory cache is indeed overflowing with experiences. These experiences, bits of our lives, become part of our legacies.

Today was Christmas Day, December 25,2015, this day was like no other Christmas, yet some traditions were the same.

It is a Robinette family tradition (my parents-Harry and Ethel Robinette started) to have a family breakfast and then gifts are shared. It's not the gifts shared, but the thoughts and time spent together that makes the event priceless. As far back as I can remember, my Christmas Days have begun with breakfast with my parents, then the gift exchange.

Over the years,the occupants in the chairs at the table have changed, but the tradition has endured.

Today the chairs were filled by my mom, my dad, my brother-Harry Jr., my uncle Andy who lives with my parents , and my daughter Sheila.

My oldest son, Robert Jr., had to work, his sharing of time with the family was done on Christmas Eve. This was the first time my oldest son had ever missed the breakfast.

My youngest son, Wesly,was also missing in action, but it was for a wonderful reason, he has his own family now and they currently live in Rexburg, Idaho. My daughter-in-law, Beth and my three grandkids; Robyn, Lily and Gavin are forming their own traditions.

The Christmas repast consisted of fried potatoes, sausage, scrambled eggs, fried apples and biscuits. I savored every bite of the delicious food.

Though it is winter in Virginia, today was in the 70's and very warm. The yards and some roadways were flooded after several days of heavy rainstorms. My son in Idaho was dealing with a big snowstorm, he is in a winter wonderland. It was strange to be almost hot on Christmas Day, I wore shorts to the family gathering.

At the gathering, I absorbed every word, every experience, every emotion and filed them all away in my heart. I will draw upon them as needed and remember this day. More Christmas Days will surely come, but none will be as this day, it is as unique as a snowflake. I will hear the whisper of the voices in my mind.

Though we all are different with our likes, dislikes, points of view and such, we are bound by an invisible cord that no amount of distance between us can break, a cord that stretches into infinity, we, are bound by a cord of love. We are, family.

The Red Bag and I

Today was library day. This operation is small potatoes for such an avid reader as I. Of course almost all of the books due back were huge with about 300-500 pages each. Then factor in the DVDs and the fact outside temperatures were sweltering.

It was a challenge keeping the DVDs from warping, a mission I successfully accomplished.

The red book bag was filled and stuffed until there wasn't enough space to cram in a piece of paper. Slumped slightly over from the weight of my treasures I slowly trudged to the car. Although it was a brief walk I felt like I had hiked Mt. Everest.

Depositing the bag in my car I headed off. Arriving at the library I circled the parking lot trying to find a spot in the shade. All the choice spots were taken but I finally located a spot with the shade from a skinny tree. That meant only a small portion of my car was shaded but I was okay with that.

I repeated the lug the book bag scene until I arrived safely inside. I piled the stack on the return counter and began to comb the aisles for old favorites and new choices yet to be experienced.

Ready to leave I placed my new stack in front of the librarian for check-out.

It was time to hunt through the cards..driver's license, social security card, two bank cards, multiple grocery store cards until at least I found THE card and handed it over to the librarian.

All finished at last,I packed the bag, once again crammed full and in a slow hunched over position I proceeded to my car.

Home at last the red bag sat in the wooden chair where I placed it and knew it would soon allow me to travel many adventures from the bounty within.