I was only ten years old when I first read a paperback novel passed on to me by a friend in my class. It was a romance novel by Barbara Cartland. At a very tender age, I began to wonder how she could write beautiful stories, or whether she imagined them all, or if she knew those people.
I grew up admiring her, even though I don’t know anything about her. I love reading her books. I read at least ten of her books if I could remember it. You see, my friend had stopped passing any books to me because her older cousins didn’t have any more books left.
Now, I have read other books written by different authors, and I began to understand how those beautiful stories were written, or sometimes why they wrote those stories.
Knowing the real-life biography of your storyteller sometimes help to understand their writing. We don’t need to go deeper into their life story, but it is nice to know that they are also human just like us. They experienced sadness, loss, or tragedy.
Authors write to entertain, to heal, to give hope, to love, and to inspire. And, despite all those events in their lives, they were able to weave beautiful stories that offer hope, or stories that made us and those young children laugh.
Most of their stories were accounts of feelings and emotions were meaningful imaginations and impressions of real events.
Some stories pierce our hearts because beneath the surface of that imagined events lies a part of the author’s revelations of their life and experiences that were partly truthful and colourful.
As an aspiring author, just like you and me, and everybody else, the authors’ real-life story inspires us to be the best we can be. The difficulties that they have to go through and still able to write their book offers us the strength to continue on with confidence and with positive thinking.
Let us learn from the best and understand their work, because once upon a time, they were just like us learning from the best.
Eventually, we too one day, will share our life story to others so we can inspire and give them the strength to write that story that they have been holding off for a very long time.
“Someone out there is also looking at the same stars and moon I am looking at now.”
Have you heard this before? Write something about your affair with the moon.
This is your writing prompt number 4.
Just like some other people, I love to stare at the moon when it comes in the late evening.
It is calming, gentle, and breathtaking. I feel deeply connected with it because it offers me a complete relaxation and a source of tranquility and ethereal stillness.
And it’s a love affair. It comes every night, wherever I am, to give me light where there is ultimate darkness.
Now, let me share with you mine.
Here’s an excerpt from my work-in-progress romance novel, “Thinner than Water“.
This is what Russell said to Viven …
“I once had a love affair with the moon. A star fell on my hand, and it glittered like a big diamond. Then the moon told me, ‘I give it to you to light up your paths.’ She kissed me and whispered, ‘If you wanted to see me, just lookup. I will always be on the other side looking at you too.’ When I opened my eyes, she was gone.”
I had several pieces of paper tucked away somewhere where no one could find them. Why? They were my little notes or letters I wrote to myself mainly when I was upset, angry or feeling unhappy. At a very young age, I had been accustomed to doing this over some time.
I wrote a short poem on a piece of cardboard of a tissue box when I was feeling down or confused. I wrote myself a letter on a page of my mum’s grocery list because the boy in my class liked another girl. I also wrote myself a letter on the lining of my school bag when I lost my dog. And, I also wrote a letter to Santa to give me a new puppy for Christmas. Big and small events in my life were all written down and hidden away from everybody. It wasn’t a diary. Most of them were accounts of sad, angry, or unhappy feelings.
And, I found it easy to write because these outpour of feelings and emotions were all meaningful imaginations and impressions of real events.
If you notice, some stories will pierce the very core of our hearts because beneath the surface of that imagined event lies a part of the author’s dramatic revelations of their life and experiences that were partly truthful and colourful.
Because writing can be brilliant.
It is a way of sharing our experiences, describing our feelings, and even communicating more complex ideas effectively.
But writing doesn’t have to be all about sadness and unhappiness.
Just because you are unhappy doesn’t mean you can write a beautiful story or a good poem.
Our life is an unfinished novel on its own. Each chapter tells what we have actually lived through.
And our life story will go on a chapter by chapter for many years to come until the writer of our life story writes the final chapter.
There are so many things that are making sense to me now because I got older and that life should be celebrated every single day.
So, do you have a celebratory song? I particularly love the song “I Can See Clearly Now” by Jimmy Cliff. It is a song that I couldn’t wait to play on my MP3 while lying in bed to celebrate a tiny happy event in my life. It was not all about writing, but every event that I think should be celebrated.
I played this song when I finished a chapter on the story I am currently working on.
I listened to this song when we adopted a puppy and when we got a new guinea pig.
I also played this song when I lost 200 grams after weeks of dieting. Well, try to understand, dieting is so HARD, that’s why it’s a celebration. (No food. I just listened to my favourite song. Honestly!).
If you want to hear this song, just click the button and feel free to sing along with this if you know the lyrics.
Here’s just a few I celebrated . . .
So here we go. Find the song that you can play or listen to celebrate.
The house is clean, dishes are done, dinner is cooked, so what’s next?
Over the years, you have accustomed yourself doing these routines daily. This is your weekend, but you are stuck with household chores.
You thought about the years – those years you put in towards working to make a living. It was a job that you dreaded sometimes, but you have to get up in the morning and go to work. No matter what your job is about, it paid your bills, your mortgage, and sent your children to school.
You found it hard to balance your priorities between work, family, and doing the job you like to do.
Just like everybody else, you chose family first, and you got yourself doing something you never enjoyed.
Your children are all grown-ups now, but sometimes you feel like you are too old to do anything anymore.
So, what if you are now in your 40’s, 50’s, or in your 60’s. Does it really matter how old you are when it comes to pursuing that dream of writing a book one day?
Are you still stuck on that chair contemplating what it would have been like if you pursued that dream?
Or, perhaps you are still wrapped up with the idea that the right time and opportunity will come. One day maybe, but not today!
That day is NOW.
You reached the prime of your life, your golden years. Everybody deserves something better – YOU, me, and the entire human race.
The opportunity that you have been waiting for has come. Right NOW, TODAY. It wouldn’t knock on your door. It is already there waiting. You need to take the necessary action and do what you have been waiting for a very long time.
This is the moment in your life to be the person you wanted to be and what you always wanted to do.
Write that book. You have so much wisdom to share.
Peel off the old YOU because it’s time for you to shine.
Do not focus on your age. It is just a number and be proud of it. The higher the number goes, the greater the experience and maturity you have within you.
You have so much to offer because your experiences are your lessons. You passed those lessons, and you learned from it, so it’s time to share it and let everyone learn from you.
Staring at your ceiling at night and trying to get some sleep is not an easy task.
Rest is like a regular job. It comes after your exhausting day when all the hard chores of running around are finally over (for that day) like cooking, cleaning, washing.
You take a rest or try to get some sleep, and if not, you stare at your ceiling trying to figure out how you are going to work out your characters in your book, not to mention what your story is going to be.
Then, bingo! Something popped into your head: some great storylines and excellent character descriptions. It was a great story as a matter of fact.
You extended your arm to your bedside table searching for a pen and paper. Where are those pens and paper when you needed it? There is always one hanging around here and there when you don’t need them. But, they seemed to have gone on an epic holiday now that you want them all.
Your irritations started to flare up. It’s crucial. You don’t want to lose those big words and story lines that kept on flowing out from the corner of your brain.
It’s late, and you don’t want to turn the lights on and wake everybody up. So you try to memorise them one by one…repeatedly…repeatedly.
But how could you, when there is another human being sleeping in your bed making a horrible noise.
So, you start to focus on him and what his snore resembles to something. He sounds like a lawnmower, or a motorbike running out of petrol. Seriously! You began to panic. You need to write everything down; you’re starting to lose them.
What the heck, you thought. You bravely reached for the light and turned it on. And there it was, a pen that is almost half empty, and a few pieces of yellow sticky note pad in the drawer of your bedside table.
Just when you’re about to start writing, suddenly, you realised that you already forgot everything. You sat on the bed, figuring out what to write. You already have your pen and your paper, but this time you are no longer staring at the ceiling anymore, but on the blank yellow sticky note pad on your hand.
My brain or maybe yours too sometimes functions in mysterious ways. When I want it to work into full capacity, it seems lazy, sleepy, and uncooperative. Worst of all, it might have “gone away” for the day.
I want to believe that it has something against me. When it is active and alert, it doesn’t care where I am or what I am doing. It’s always when I am in an awkward place or awkward position that those big, bright ideas and imaginations will burst out of my head in full colour.
And there I am again going in through my pile of things in desperation for pen and paper.
Just imagine the difficulty when our brain started to showcase its full potential with an explosion of ideas for our book, like fireworks with so many things to write, and we want them all. The sad thing was, we can’t keep a pen and paper in the shower.
with vivid imaginations still believed that I could do anything beyond the
gates of fairyland. No matter what I say, they all have concluded that I have
the power to do anything or change anything if I wanted to.”
Excerpt from “Gracie…Shhh!”
You can read it all in Chapter 7. Yes, it’s Chapter 7, my favourite chapter. I wasn’t sure how I would write this chapter and at the same time, give everyone the pleasure of reading and enjoying the story.
Who would believe that magic still exists in today’s world? No one. Certainly not me. Oh well, maybe sometimes. Those children in Gracie’s school believe that there is magic, and Gracie was the lucky one to receive the magical power. If that isn’t enough to drive Gracie to the edge, imagine what she did. It will surprise everyone.
I surely enjoyed writing it, so I hope you will enjoy reading it. Here’s a little peek of what’s in Chapter 7. All the rest of the story will soon be available for everyone to read. Not long to go. Promise!
. . . . . . So much weird stuff was going on
in our school. I was continually being called Fairy Godmother. The older boys
called me Cherub Babe. Gosh, that was new. The younger children called me
Elfie. Some of them tend to stare, and some don’t even blink. They love
touching me too, like rubbing their hands on my arm hoping to get some of my
power. Most of the time, I tried my very best to stay calm and not get upset,
but our playground was beginning to turn into a circus ground.
That’s it, no more. It is time to put an end to their craziness. It must stop, and I mean now. I was determined to do it because everything was becoming unrealistic and getting completely out of control. It’s time to set the record straight.
But first, I should have some fun first. I will show everyone my magical power.
I was so determined and fired up to put
an end to all those crazy stuff, so I dashed at the playground where everybody
grouped themselves. The wind was cold and fresh on my face, but it didn’t stop
me from doing what I must do that day. Some patches of dark clouds were moving
closer to each other, followed by the brief sizzling noise of lightning, but
the playground was packed.
“Hey Gracie,” Makena called out waving her hands. “We’re here.”
I went straight to her. My face was crumpled, and my lips pressed together.
“What’s the matter Gracie, you look angry?”
I gave her a sharp look. Then, I purposely pointed my pencil to her and uttered some magic words, “Naughty-ish-tian mitoto!”
For a moment, I saw Makena’s face
completely confused. Then, I waved my pencil in the air and yelled out,
Something just happened. I lost my
balance, and I was frightened for a moment. It was unexpected. I thought a bomb
just went off, but it was a sharp, loud rumble of thunder, and I was taken
wholly by surprise.
“Are you kidding me?” Makena blasted at me. “Did you just do that?”
“I think she just did, Mak. She just threw a magic spell on you,” seconded Donald.
I turned to Donald, and with a fierce look, I spoke, pointing my pencil to him. “Am I talking to you Ducky?”
“What’s with you, Gracie?”
I yelled, “Answer me!” waving my pencil
in the air. But to my surprise, a flash of lightning just bolted out from
nowhere, flashing across the sky.
“Whoa! Chill out, Gracie!” Donald took a couple of steps backward, shaken and scared.
Suddenly, a showcase of lightning
flashing from different directions began to appear in the sky. The wind howled,
shaking those leaves struggling to hold on from its bough. Everyone was
astonished, surprised, bewildered, dumbfounded. Call it whatever you want, but
all eyes were on me.
Remember that naughty boy who liked
playing pranks on everyone? Well, I marched directly towards him. My face was
still crumpled, and I fixed my eyes into him. And with a whisk of my magic
pencil pointed at him, I spoke with a loud voice, “You are going to stop
playing tricks on everyone!” Then, I yelled, “Understood?”
Thunder roared up in the sky again.
Poor boy, fear overtook him. He nodded his head and then he ran off so fast
away from me. He almost tripped on the ground.
Wild events were beginning to take
place when a teacher came out to the playground telling everyone to go back
inside because the weather was getting worse. I panicked. I thought I got
busted for doing those pranks. So, as I turned, I accidentally pointed my
pencil to her. Unfortunately, a strong gust of wind blew towards her direction.
Her skirt went right up to her face. That was unexpected, and it blew my mind
too. I wasn’t sure if she was shocked about what I did to her. But all I could
see on her face were traces of embarrassment, more than likely because we all
saw what she was wearing underneath.