Write As Rea

The happy intersection between what I want to write and what people want to read.

I’m excited to announce that Noble, my first book, is now available for purchase! Noble is the initial volume in what I intend to be a three-part series. This novel is really special to me, and I hope you’ll be willing to take a chance on it. As writers, it can be difficult to share the fruits of our labor. I think we’re all quite aware of how vulnerable it makes us. However, sharing my writing is the best way I know to explore what it means to be human and connect with others. I love this story. The characters are dear to me and have found a place in my heart. I hope they can find a place in your heart as well.


March 29, 2017

Watching paint dry. A phrase invented to describe the most boring activities known to mankind. Thus am I being painfully reminded of the reasons I never do my nails. I have things to do! Important things! Things I was avoiding which is why I painted my nails in the first place! Sadly, I am committed now. That’ll teach me.

In the interest of full disclosure,

I am not a fan of too much exposure.

All that light

Hurts the eyes

I much prefer rainy skies.

My introverted heart rejoices

Finding peace from opinionated voices.

I understand, make no mistake,

But there’s only so much anger I can take.

I feel alone in my desire for joy,

But I earned it and I refuse to let it be destroyed.

It’s a gift I won’t surrender

The world could use more awe and splendor.

 

 

 

Unexpected dear companions like falling stars, however brief

Gift awe and reverence

Illuminating the lonely darkness of life

For but a moment.

Grazing hearts before they are gone into the horizon

Skimming that curve of Earth before they disappear.

We, too, shoot across the firmament

Knowing not how we touch the lives of others

Skipping along the atmosphere of those rotating

Planets

Leaving longing in our wake

Sparking hope in that empty space

Inspiring elusive and tender

Wishes

I write.

You read.

Or maybe you don’t.

So I suffer for my art

Painting with words

As others do in brush strokes.

Using a medium common to all

Seeking an elusive mastery

No perfect equations here despite the many manuals.

That which quickens the mind and touches the heart

Makes friends only when it chooses.

With whom it chooses.

And I become a beggar

Left lonely and abstract

Yearning for that fickle companionship

Finding rationality wrapped in whimsy

Filling up the great white blankness with words

Spilling out like colors.

Apologies if anyone was expecting a football analogy, but this is my annual examination of my resolutions for the year. Feel free to come up with your own analogies if you feel disappointed. I’m sure it’s a theme with untold riches for the sports inclined. For the remaining few interested in my vague plans for the new year please continue reading.

This is one of the few consistent posts on my blog. I know resolutions don’t resonate with everyone but I like being able to track my own so I find this to be a convenient place to write mine down. Otherwise, I find them with the dust bunnies when I spring clean every few years. As I have mentioned before, I often complete the things on my list well after I write them down. I actually find the exercise more useful from an introspective viewpoint. It shows me what I considered important enough to follow through with and themes as well as fads that run from year to year. As character assessment goes, it is pretty hard to beat.

That being said, I think this year’s list of goals will be relatively short and practical. Here we go!

1. Leave the world a better place than I found it.

2. Be positive and have a sense of humor about life.

3. Make my loved ones a priority.

4. Write the words I am meant to write.

5. Crochet

6. Garden

7. Organization

8. Be healthier (according to my own standards)

9. Try new cheese on my crackers.

10. Enjoy life!

There you have it. 2017 here I come. Happy New Year everyone!

 

 

 

 

They’ve got axes to grind,

but I’ve given up mine

Those edges worn brittle

Thinned and whittled down with anger

Both sides

Chipped and Damaged

Swinging not caring who they cut.

Isn’t it enough already?

Double-bladed exchanges full of hate

Each believing they know more of love.

Whet stones shedding sparks

Starting fires the rest of us have to try to put out.

Compromise on something other than your ethics

For the sake of the rest of us

Bury the hatchet.

 

The sister of a friend of mine runs a collaborative blog and requested that I contribute a post. I’m reblogging it here. Please check it out!

Misses Miscellany

I Hate Pumpkin.jpg

I hate pumpkin-flavored everything.

I’m just throwing that out there so we understand each other. I don’t really like autumn either.

No hard feelings if you decide not to read any further.

As you can see, I’m very particular about my seasons. Spring has always been my favorite. It’s all about life, new beginnings, and opportunity. The smell of rainy days as the world wakes up. Then, summer comes around with its bright stars and warm nights and it’s time for exploring. Winter is rest and recuperation. Books I’ve been waiting to read under a cozy blanket.

Autumn? Well, autumn is all about endings. I have a hard time with that. So many painful endings in my life have happened during this time of year that it’s difficult for me to get excited about anything other than the reduced chance of a third-degree sunburn. Yeah, baby.

Autumn is work. Hoping…

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October 9, 2016

According to my friends and family, my cellphone is the equivalent of a rotary-dial phone wearing eighties-superhero spandex. It gets the job done, so I feel bad retiring it but someday, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow…but someday, I will be the proud owner of a pretty and powerful Chris Evans-holding-onto-a-helicopter cellphone…which I’ll forget I have and leave in my purse too.

Sorry ’bout that in advance.

I can’t get off.

I don’t remember anymore how I found myself here.

Still, it spins and spins. The majestic mounts and the mirrors are all as familiar to me as the thoughts that plague me day after day.

Why am I here?

That is the question I ask myself the most, but it’s not the most painful question.

Will I always be alone?

Ah, yes. That’s the one. I don’t think about it much anymore. That’s what I tell myself anyway, as I watch the people as I swirl past. They go their way and I go mine and they don’t really see me here. I fade into the colors and their eyes gaze past me to the furniture of my cage.

Sometimes I wonder if they see that either. It’s a disconcerting thought. I see them. I long to follow, to join, to live untethered as they do. It is not to be. Night falls, and they disappear one by one until the lights blink on and hide the stars.

My favorite haunt is the phaeton. The little two-seater, and I, its lone occupant. My steeds dashing off to nowhere. I imagine someday that someone will join me. That the music will stop its grating tune, and the endless cycle will let me be at last.

“Is this seat taken?”

I hear it and think that I have fallen into a restless slumber, but I never dream and hope has long abandoned me on this fruitless journey. A stupor has me silent and the smiling eyes grow uncertain staring into mine. Seeing me.

My eyes fill with tears.

A hand is extended. Calloused but kind all the same.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to take a walk instead?”

That hand pulls me to my feet, to the edge of the unknown, and my fingers lace with those of my long-awaited companion.

I step into the abyss and the ground no longer spins beneath my feet.

(This was a fun little piece for me to explore. It started out as an idea for a ghost story on a haunted merry-go-round. While it can still be read that way, it can also be read as a metaphor for life or as a possible romance. It’s written in first-person perspective which I don’t generally like, but it just seemed to fit the nature of the story. The way it developed was a unique surprise even for me. However you choose to interpret it, I hope you enjoy!)