I'm back at it again with a novel in progress that's currently titled Kindled Roses. This is an excerpt from the very first chapter. Please let me know what you think in a comment!
My shoulders shook, and something on the desk moved. I looked up,
rubbing my eyes with my hands. Blurring tears pushed aside, I saw one of
the envelopes twitch, wrinkling up in on itself. White faded to the
color of the shadows beneath my bed, comforting and gray. Then, gray
darkened all the way to black and a tiny whiff of smoke struggled up
from the paper. A flickering glow no bigger than an ant formed on the
very edge of the corner, even as the paper crumpled into ash.
Fire. Warmth. Out of my control again, or exactly inside it. Sometimes it was so hard to tell.
©2017 Emily Blue
Thursday, April 13, 2017
Saturday, April 1, 2017
What Gram Said, Part Two
It's Saturday! That means the conclusion to What Gram Said is here! Part one is still up, if you need a reminder.
"What Gram Said, Part Two"
...That’s when I looked at her and said, “Gram, cardinals aren’t born. They hatch. They come from eggs.”
Her willowy old hand came out and whacked me upside the back of my head. “I know that!”
It didn’t hurt much so I didn’t mind. 93-year-old widow slowly dyin’ of lung cancer, I guess she can say and do what she wants.
Thing is, I been sittin’ on my futon for the whole morning now and the birds just keep comin’. At first there was only a pair. Real bright, like the boys always are. I waited for them to get into it because they both perched there on the same telephone wire, like they both wanted that spot. One of them was just askin’ for trouble. But they just sat. Sat and preened.
Now it’s like the sky outside my window is bleedin’. Everythin’, everywhere, covered in droplets of red.
And I’m just waitin’ now.
©2017 Emily Blue
"What Gram Said, Part Two"
...That’s when I looked at her and said, “Gram, cardinals aren’t born. They hatch. They come from eggs.”
Her willowy old hand came out and whacked me upside the back of my head. “I know that!”
It didn’t hurt much so I didn’t mind. 93-year-old widow slowly dyin’ of lung cancer, I guess she can say and do what she wants.
Thing is, I been sittin’ on my futon for the whole morning now and the birds just keep comin’. At first there was only a pair. Real bright, like the boys always are. I waited for them to get into it because they both perched there on the same telephone wire, like they both wanted that spot. One of them was just askin’ for trouble. But they just sat. Sat and preened.
Now it’s like the sky outside my window is bleedin’. Everythin’, everywhere, covered in droplets of red.
And I’m just waitin’ now.
©2017 Emily Blue
Friday, March 31, 2017
What Gram Said, Part One
Happy Friday! I hope everyone enjoys theirs.
I have something for all of you. I'm particularly proud of this piece but it's a bit longer so I'll be posting in two parts. Be sure to check back tomorrow!
"What Gram Said"
My Gram, she spent the last third of her life in a nursin’ home with a tube in her neck. I visited every Sundays until I moved some months back. We’d sit in that dull community room with the TV on, me on the couch and her in her wheelchair.
“Avery,” Gram always said. “Avery?”
“Yes, Gram?” I always replied, like clockwork.
“When someone dies, a cardinal is born. Where’s my cardinal, Avery?”
“I’m sure it’s comin’ sooner or later.”
She wanted to die. Always had. But, they outlawed the Voluntary Death Amendment back in ’25 so she didn’t have no choice in the matter.
I always told her it would come for her, like I knew she wanted, every time except the last visit.
To Be Continued...
©2017 Emily Blue
Saturday, March 18, 2017
Weekend Revelations
Happy Saturday! I'm sure some of us are enjoying the weekend more than others, but that's just the way the world works.
I recently discovered Editor Bird Cassie is in fact not a girl at all, but a handsome little boy! He is very much a one-bird bird and I have no intention of breeding, so our lives are still the same. Please enjoy these pictures of Cassie taking a bath in my water.
Stay safe this weekend and be courteous. Please. Don't be like my neighbors.
I recently discovered Editor Bird Cassie is in fact not a girl at all, but a handsome little boy! He is very much a one-bird bird and I have no intention of breeding, so our lives are still the same. Please enjoy these pictures of Cassie taking a bath in my water.
Stay safe this weekend and be courteous. Please. Don't be like my neighbors.
Saturday, March 11, 2017
Another Look at Stubbornness
I took a walk in the cold today, which I prefer over any other type of weather. Is anyone else like that?? Can't stand the heat or humidity? Luckily, I'm in Illinois so I get miserable amounts of both!
However, I did something while I was out that I'd never done before: I typed up a work of flash fiction. I'm not sure of the exact word count but it might even be microfiction. That was nice, I'll say. It felt like an actual use of my time instead of a waste. Maybe that's a habit I'll try to get into, writing as a walk.
But let's return to stubbornness for just a moment. Before, I said it was one of the most important things -if not THE most important- trait to have. You can't accomplish anything unless you stick to it.
Hold your horses.
See, the thing is to know where your limits are, and when enough is enough. There comes a point when it just isn't worth it.
I stayed awake for 23 hours finishing a story for a client because the deadline was closing in. I had wiggle room on the other side if I went to sleep for a few hours, but I wanted it to be done with. And I did it, didn't I? I did! But here's the catch. My work for that client is given to someone who then reviews it. I didn't even care about that at that point.
I care about it now, when they gave me a 6 out of 10 rating for the writing itself. They said the structure of the sentences didn't make sense, and that it was difficult to understand. The story got a 7 out of 10, but the only good thing to be said about it was, "There's nothing wrong with this story."
Ouch.
Compared to the 10 and 9 I got last time? Ouch.
And it was all my own stubborn fault. If I hadn't pushed myself, I would have done better. Let others learn from that mistake before they do it to themselves: Don't be an Emily Blue. Give yourself time to recuperate. Don't insist you can do everything, when you clearly can't.
You have limits. Find them, or they'll find you.
However, I did something while I was out that I'd never done before: I typed up a work of flash fiction. I'm not sure of the exact word count but it might even be microfiction. That was nice, I'll say. It felt like an actual use of my time instead of a waste. Maybe that's a habit I'll try to get into, writing as a walk.
But let's return to stubbornness for just a moment. Before, I said it was one of the most important things -if not THE most important- trait to have. You can't accomplish anything unless you stick to it.
Hold your horses.
See, the thing is to know where your limits are, and when enough is enough. There comes a point when it just isn't worth it.
I stayed awake for 23 hours finishing a story for a client because the deadline was closing in. I had wiggle room on the other side if I went to sleep for a few hours, but I wanted it to be done with. And I did it, didn't I? I did! But here's the catch. My work for that client is given to someone who then reviews it. I didn't even care about that at that point.
I care about it now, when they gave me a 6 out of 10 rating for the writing itself. They said the structure of the sentences didn't make sense, and that it was difficult to understand. The story got a 7 out of 10, but the only good thing to be said about it was, "There's nothing wrong with this story."
Ouch.
Compared to the 10 and 9 I got last time? Ouch.
And it was all my own stubborn fault. If I hadn't pushed myself, I would have done better. Let others learn from that mistake before they do it to themselves: Don't be an Emily Blue. Give yourself time to recuperate. Don't insist you can do everything, when you clearly can't.
You have limits. Find them, or they'll find you.
Saturday, February 18, 2017
Stubbornness and Writing
Who else is still sticking to their New Year's resolution right now? Ever since I lost 50 pounds last year, I've been wanting to get back into it. It's been a rough start but I got back out there again for a walk today.
I'm sure I would have enjoyed it more if I didn't live in Illinois. It's February and already turning humid as hell. What gives?
Oh well. I'm back inside now and ready to get to work. The past week or so has been a complete disaster, struggling to get through a bout of depression. And then my keyboard quit working on my laptop! But not at an ordinary, sensible time of day. Oh no. It quit at 1 a.m. After two and a half hours of attempted fixes, I went to Walmart and bought a plug-in keyboard. THEN, I came back home and stayed up until 7 a.m. to make up for all that lost time. Oh, but the fun didn't end there! The day before yesterday, and into yesterday, I stayed up for 23 hours straight to get a project done for a client. And then I slept for 9 hours. Cassie the Editor Bird was not happy that I wasn't at her beck and call for most of the day. However, we're getting back into our normal routine and Cassie is currently drinking out of my water glass.
Like I was saying in my previous post, writing isn't the hardest job in the world...but that doesn't mean it can't be hard. EVERY job is hard at some point. It's just that many aren't worth the struggle.
Writing is, if you love it. And when you hate it. It isn't about inspiration and passion, although those things certainly exist. However, if you want it to be a job, you need this one thing above all else: stubbornness.
Some might call it determination, in favor of using a prettier word, but it is, at its heart, pure stubbornness. It's a refusal to back down, even when you would rather be doing anything else. It's forcing your fingers to move even when you have your head thrown back with exasperation at just how stupid your story sounds right about now. It's tossing all your bodily needs out the window for a moment to get this one more paragraph down.
It's stubbornness. You need it, because no one is making you write. It's your responsibility, and if the urge never goes away, if you're always aware of it and would be miserable if you never wrote another thing for the rest of your life...then you are a writer and you will return to it time and time again no matter how dramatically you gave up on it last time.
That's writing.
That's stubbornness.
They're one and the same.
I'm sure I would have enjoyed it more if I didn't live in Illinois. It's February and already turning humid as hell. What gives?
Oh well. I'm back inside now and ready to get to work. The past week or so has been a complete disaster, struggling to get through a bout of depression. And then my keyboard quit working on my laptop! But not at an ordinary, sensible time of day. Oh no. It quit at 1 a.m. After two and a half hours of attempted fixes, I went to Walmart and bought a plug-in keyboard. THEN, I came back home and stayed up until 7 a.m. to make up for all that lost time. Oh, but the fun didn't end there! The day before yesterday, and into yesterday, I stayed up for 23 hours straight to get a project done for a client. And then I slept for 9 hours. Cassie the Editor Bird was not happy that I wasn't at her beck and call for most of the day. However, we're getting back into our normal routine and Cassie is currently drinking out of my water glass.
Like I was saying in my previous post, writing isn't the hardest job in the world...but that doesn't mean it can't be hard. EVERY job is hard at some point. It's just that many aren't worth the struggle.
Writing is, if you love it. And when you hate it. It isn't about inspiration and passion, although those things certainly exist. However, if you want it to be a job, you need this one thing above all else: stubbornness.
Some might call it determination, in favor of using a prettier word, but it is, at its heart, pure stubbornness. It's a refusal to back down, even when you would rather be doing anything else. It's forcing your fingers to move even when you have your head thrown back with exasperation at just how stupid your story sounds right about now. It's tossing all your bodily needs out the window for a moment to get this one more paragraph down.
It's stubbornness. You need it, because no one is making you write. It's your responsibility, and if the urge never goes away, if you're always aware of it and would be miserable if you never wrote another thing for the rest of your life...then you are a writer and you will return to it time and time again no matter how dramatically you gave up on it last time.
That's writing.
That's stubbornness.
They're one and the same.
Thursday, February 9, 2017
First Post! Cute Picture Inside, Too!
"I bought groceries today."
It seems like a pretty mundane thing to say, huh? Everyone has to buy food. We all have to eat. For a lot of people, grocery shopping is a chore and something to dread.
I love it.
I'm spending my own money, making my own choices based around what I need. It's a learning process that will probably turn mundane for me too, sometime in the future. I hope that doesn't happen for awhile, though. I work my dream job every single day. My younger self never would have imagined actually having all this that I daydreamed about for my entire life: living in my own place, working only as a writer and nothing else. Isn't that the dream? And I finally have it.
It's not as perfect as it sounds. Nothing really is, is it? I won't say that writing is the hardest job in the world because I know it definitely is not, but I will say that it's just like any other job: grueling, repititous, and I hate my boss (me) and my coworkers (also me.) However, just the fact that I am here at all to enjoy it and take pride in the little things...
Wow.
Never thought I'd get here.
But, enough of that for now. Hi, my name is Emily, but I would prefer if you call me Blue. I am a freelancing ghostwriter, and I have tried to write a blog before with very little success.
Actually, I've tried to do a lot of things before without success...
But this time will be different, maybe, possibly? I hope so. For once, the future looks pretty good in all directions (except for upcoming tax season. Yikes. Don't look there.)
A little bit about me, I suppose? There's not much I can say at the moment that can't be found in the actual "About Me" section, so take a look there. There's more, of course. There is always is, beneath the surface, but an introductory post isn't the place for those kinds of things.
If you stumble across my blog, I just wanted to say hi and introduce the editor:
That's my Cassie! She's a young parrotlet who loves to bite (me) and chew on things (me again) and climb (still me.) Little devil bird, but I love her to bits. You'll probably be seeing more of her in the future.
So, what's the point of this blog?
To talk about writing, to advertise (sorry, I'll keep it to a minimum, I promise. It'll be announcements and links at the most) to share random thoughts, or toss around websites I like, and to just...connect. I hope you stick around, or at least think Cassie is cute before you leave and forget about me!
It seems like a pretty mundane thing to say, huh? Everyone has to buy food. We all have to eat. For a lot of people, grocery shopping is a chore and something to dread.
I love it.
I'm spending my own money, making my own choices based around what I need. It's a learning process that will probably turn mundane for me too, sometime in the future. I hope that doesn't happen for awhile, though. I work my dream job every single day. My younger self never would have imagined actually having all this that I daydreamed about for my entire life: living in my own place, working only as a writer and nothing else. Isn't that the dream? And I finally have it.
It's not as perfect as it sounds. Nothing really is, is it? I won't say that writing is the hardest job in the world because I know it definitely is not, but I will say that it's just like any other job: grueling, repititous, and I hate my boss (me) and my coworkers (also me.) However, just the fact that I am here at all to enjoy it and take pride in the little things...
Wow.
Never thought I'd get here.
But, enough of that for now. Hi, my name is Emily, but I would prefer if you call me Blue. I am a freelancing ghostwriter, and I have tried to write a blog before with very little success.
Actually, I've tried to do a lot of things before without success...
But this time will be different, maybe, possibly? I hope so. For once, the future looks pretty good in all directions (except for upcoming tax season. Yikes. Don't look there.)
A little bit about me, I suppose? There's not much I can say at the moment that can't be found in the actual "About Me" section, so take a look there. There's more, of course. There is always is, beneath the surface, but an introductory post isn't the place for those kinds of things.
If you stumble across my blog, I just wanted to say hi and introduce the editor:
That's my Cassie! She's a young parrotlet who loves to bite (me) and chew on things (me again) and climb (still me.) Little devil bird, but I love her to bits. You'll probably be seeing more of her in the future.
So, what's the point of this blog?
To talk about writing, to advertise (sorry, I'll keep it to a minimum, I promise. It'll be announcements and links at the most) to share random thoughts, or toss around websites I like, and to just...connect. I hope you stick around, or at least think Cassie is cute before you leave and forget about me!
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