Live From My Living Room – Blog Tour 2014


Originally posted on theworldoutsidethewindow:

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Welcome to the latest stop on the writing process Blog Tour 2014. I am enjoying the beautiful sunshine and the peace I often find during Easter. I am feeling tranquil, relaxed and really pleased that Julie Stock invited me to join this writing process blog tour. I recommend following her blog, it is a great read and a fascinating glimpse into the process of writing a novel.

The idea of a blog tour is one that appealed to me straight away, I like the sense of community you get from recommending other people’s blogs and it is interesting getting a glimpse into the mind of a fellow writer. The next stop on the blog tour will be Anna Mosca and The Jenny Mac Book Blog – these great blogs will be posting on 28th April. Here is a little bit about them -

The Jenny Mac Book Blog

I’m an aspiring author…

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Atmosphere


Over the years I’ve learned a bit about atmospheres, the right atmospheres, the wrong atmospheres, and of course there’s the what in the heck was I thinking when I decided that this would be a good atmosphere to write in.

Usually when writing I would write at home because it was peaceful, quiet, and there was just something about writing in my office that made my creative energy flow; however it’s become a lot less peaceful and quiet recently. Before my internet went out I wouldn’t have thought that writing in a Barnes & Noble cafe would be even more peaceful than writing in my office,  but there’s just something about it. I feel more like a writer sitting in a cafe writing than I do at home. I know that probably sounds extremely cliche however I don’t believe that I actually care how cliche it sounds.

I think that there a a few reasons why I like the cafe atmosphere: 1 I don’t hear my neighbors dogs braking while working, or my neighbor yelling at the dogs for braking. 2 There’s no random distractions, it’s like when I come here no one can interrupt my thoughts, or my thought process. That’s something that I truly cannot stand in the least, especially when I’ve just come up with an idea and wind up forgetting what it was later because somebody interrupted me. I love having absolutely no interruptions.

Now that I’ve said that someone I know is probably going to come looking for me here, just to annoy me. Why is that you ask? Because it’s just my luck.

3 Last but not least I feel a connection to one of my favorite authors when writing in this cafe.

W ell that about it for my atmosphere post, if this was kinda lame my apologizes, but this was about the only thing that came to mind for a post. I do think that the right atmosphere is important for a writer’s creativity however.

Dreamer


The bus dropped her off just a few blocks from home; while on her walk home she mentally tried to prepare herself for every disaster possible. This was the only way she made it through this time in her life. It was like praying to God every night before you go to sleep; although she herself had stopped praying, hoping, and wishing long ago.

Rebecca walked into Mount Shadow subdivision, it was a subdivision that you wouldn’t see somebody pull into unless you lived in it. It was known as a ghetto area and to outsiders it was like walking into the projects.

She walked down a few blocks and arrived at Howlet St in Mount Shadow it was one of the trashiest streets. She walked past several houses until she was staring at 84 Howlet, she took a breath and walked to the front door.

As she shut the door behind her, Jacob her step father was just sitting down on the couch and placing a sandwich bag on the coffee table.

“How was school?” he asked as he dug around in his sweatpants pocket for his pipe and lighter.

“I’m surprised that you would actually ask,” she said as she looked at him in disgust.

He was shirtless, she could smell his terrible BO, and he’d looked as though he hadn’t showered in three days.

A lengthy sigh came from his mouth. “I try to be nice and you act like a bitch, forget that I even asked.”

She looked at him in annoyance, as he took a few deep hits from his meth pipe. A most horrible and disgusting addiction in her eyes. She turned her back to him and went to her room.

In the house the one thing that separated her from her family’s drug use, was the lock on her door. She put her backpack down and drew her eyes to the window, she wondered if she’d have to escape tonight.

At least three times a week ranging from midnight to 2am she would sneak out her window and go to a friend’s house just a short ways away from her subdivision. Her friend Mandy would leave the back door unlocked and Rebecca would tip-toe downstairs to Mandy’s room and sleep on the floor, to get at least a few hours of sleep before school.

She drew her gaze from the window and collapsed onto her bed, starting to get sleepy and heavy droopy eyes she fell asleep.

The bedroom door swings open and Kay walks over to the young girl’s bed. Her legs were like Jell-O and she walked awkwardly toward the bed. She shook the girl a couple of times, she wouldn’t wake right away and she got frustrated quickly. She smacked the girl’s shoulder.

Rebecca awoke startled and had an immediate sense of panic, as she jumped upward to a sitting position  in her bed. She looked to her right expecting to find an intruder by her bedside.

In a slurred tone her mother said “Becky, Rebecky, you know where my cough medicine’s at?”

“OOH, MOM! You woke me up for that?” She yawned before answering her question. “No I don’t know where your bottle of cough syrup is.”

Kay grabbed her arm and squeezed it tightly. “Where is it?” She shouted, “ You didn’t hide it on me did you?”

Rebecca tried to free her forearm from her mother’s grasp. The pain radiated from her forearm to her shoulder. “AHH!            LET GO! AHH, I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS, AND I DIDN’T HIDE IT.”

Still shouting and sounding more serious and scary Kay said as she dug her finger nails into Rebecca’s skin. “Did you pour it down the drain? Huh? Did you?” Kay was now wearing a nasty, violent look.

Kay’s finger nails felt as though they’d made their way to Rebecca’s bones. The pain was horrid. “AHH! NO, NO I WOULDN’T DO THAT, PLEASE LET GO.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks, when Kay released her arm.

Rebecca looked at her mother terrified.

Kay looked at her daughter’s face, seeing the tears streaming down her cheeks upset her. She began to sob, “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean. It’s this medicine, it makes me crazy.”

Rebecca had her guard up. “Then stop taking it.”

Kay’s sobs worsened. “I can’t baby, they- they- make- me-.”

“So extremely unstable,” Rebecca blurted out without thinking.

Kay looks at her and slaps her cheek with great force. “Sure like you’re so perfect,” she slurred in a violent rage. “You win a few writing contests and are heading for college, you think you’re better than me. Well if you were in pain like I were, you wouldn’t be so hot. You would have a shit life.”

Rebecca puts her guard back up. “What?”

She slurs her next sentence so badly that Rebecca could only guess that she said, “Yeah that right, hot shot bitch.”

Rebecca wanted her to just leave. “Hey mom did you check the bathroom for your medicine bottle?”

As if nothing had just happened between the two of them she says, “Good thinking baby doll,” and stumbles her way out of her room.

Rebecca walks over to shut her door and lock it, but the lock was already locked, so how did she get in? The best she could figure was that she hadn’t shut the door properly. This time she made sure that the door was properly shut and locked. Afterward she turned her attention to her arm. Her mother had broken the skin. She sighed in frustration and looked over at her alarm clock. It was a quarter to seven, she needed to do her homework. As she went to grab her backpack a massive fight broke out between her mother and Jacob. She knew that she could not stay here tonight; she grabbed her backpack and opened her window and lept over the ledge, and hit the ground thankful that the house didn’t have a second floor.  She closed the window and jogged to the end of the street. Then walked out of her subdivision down to the nearest bus stop.

Half of my life


When I first came back and posted my first song I mentioned that I had a few more songs to go with Sentenced for life, and today I wanted to post the next song.

I’ve told you all this before, that since my grandmother passed I’ve taken a look at not only my life but at the lives of those closest to me. While gone from my blog I had a lot of demons from my past pop up and this one that will be talked about in this song, was actually inspired by Macklemore’s Half of Us interview. If you would like to check it out here’s the link…  http://www.halfofus.com/video/macklemore/

 

 

3 years old and already I knew that there was something not quite right with you, slurring your words, sounding loopy; just out of it completely. 1993 there was no comfort, there was always fear and for the past 20 years I’ve walked into your bedroom witnessing the same scene. TV on shades drawn and you’re immersed into your own darkness. Depression, mixed with pain killers laying on your nightstand, and a big gulp sitting beside half empty pill bottles.

It’s never been a pretty picture, not knowing whether or not you’ll live to see another day, or will these demons have finally consumed you, to the point of no return.

That fear always use to paralyze me to the point where I could barely sleep, just wondering about the unknown and praying that today would be the that you would finally wake and realize.

(Chorus for half of my life these pills have consumed me. In control of my every waking moment, they owned me. For years there has been no escape from the Darvocet and Codeine, just a rocket ship blasting me away to my own planet. Only coming back down to earth when I ran out and then it’s another trip to pharmacy. Pulling up to the drive thru at Walgreens and ordering from the pharmacist like he was taking my order at Burger King.

(Can I get a whopper and some onion rings?)

No, not for another minute will I run off to the pharmacy and pop these drugs like candy. From now on I’m in control of my own destiny, and yes I will be the woman that I set out to be. The kind of mom that my kids could look up to, no longer will they look at me in disgust. I’m going to be the hero and no longer a pathetic druggie.)

That was what I sincerely wished, but you keep poking and prodding, thinking that you still have time. My sister once said you’re like a cat with multiple lives, but if you keep pushing soon your luck will run out.

Because after all you only get so many chances.

Most people are only lucky enough in this life to get a second chance and you’ve had a million of em plus one. Tell me Ma when is that sudden realization going to come? When will you wake up from this insanity, rise up and flush those mother fuckers down the toilet like you ought to be.

Will you go outside into the sunshine and finally see the light?

(Chorus for half of my life these pills have consumed me. In control of my every waking moment, they owned me. For years there has been no escape from the Darvocet and Codeine, just a rocket ship blasting me away to my own planet. Only coming back down to earth when I ran out and then it’s another trip to pharmacy. Pulling up to the drive thru at Walgreens and ordering from the pharmacist like he was taking my order at Burger King.

(Can I get a whopper and some onion rings?)

No, not for another minute will I run off to the pharmacy and pop these drugs like candy. From now on I’m in control of my own destiny, and yes I will be the woman that I set out to be. The kind of mom that my kids could look up to, no longer will they look at me in disgust. I’m going to be the hero and no longer a pathetic druggie.)

Mom I hate these pills and I hate the hold they’ve got on you, I know my attempts to wake you up hasn’t worked before but I’m still hopeful.

Because I do not intend to let these pills win.

I really want you to come out this victorious, but in order to do so you’ve got to wake up and finally have that moment of clarity. Once you do we’ll be right here waiting to get you all of the way through to the other side of recovery.

(Chorus for half of my life these pills have consumed me. In control of my every waking moment, they owned me. For years there has been no escape from the Darvocet and Codeine, just a rocket ship blasting me away to my own planet. Only coming back down to earth when I ran out and then it’s another trip to pharmacy. Pulling up to the drive thru at Walgreens and ordering from the pharmacist like he was taking my order at Burger King.

(Can I get a whopper and some onion rings?)

No, not for another minute will I run off to the pharmacy and pop these drugs like candy. From now on I’m in control of my own destiny, and yes I will be the woman that I set out to be. The kind of mom that my kids could look up to, no longer will they look at me in disgust. I’m going to be the hero and no longer a pathetic druggie.

I am going to be the woman that I set out to be and beat this horrid addiction. I am going to come out of this victoriously.)

The two-year mark


 Officially I’ve had my WordPress blog up for two years last Friday and I’d forgotten all about it. So I’m doing a belated post on my blog anniversary.

Wow, I can’t believe that I made it to the two-year mark, when I first started this blog I didn’t know how long I’d have my blog up. Although I’ve got to say that by the two-year mark I thought I would be published, but oh well. Writing is a journey from writing the story to the bookshelves that you eventually hope your book winds up on.

Let’s see last year I did a post about my favorite posts, I don’t really feel like doing it this year. Instead I want to give my thanks to you guys; because without you this blog would not be up because I would’ve probably thrown in the towel if I wasn’t able to gain interest or an audience.

So thank you, thanks for checking in, liking, commenting, giving me writing tips, and feedback. I noticed a while back that the blog reach the 3,000 followers mark, so thanks very much for that. Thanks for the awards, I never thought that I would win blogging awards, or that I’d be inspiring to others.

I appreciate all of this I really do, and feel blessed and I am so grateful in case I haven’t mentioned that already. ;)

Here’s to hoping that this next year will be a success, that the blog will continue to inspire you in whatever way it inspires you, that I can learn more about writing and pass what I’ve learned on to you, and that I can make some good strides with my book and my writing.

Here’s to year three

Dreamer


Alright after working on this story over the weekend I think I’m ready to show this to you guys. Keep in mind that I have absolutely no idea where I’m going with this story, the idea was originally going to be a short story but now that I’ve been working on it I don’t know. It could turn into a a novella or a novel who knows.

So without further ado here ya go, the introduction into young Rebecca Reilly’s life.

 

Rebecca Reilly is a sixteen-year-old girl who dreams to be a writer; she goes to the Barnes & Noble in the late afternoons when school is concluded. She is a regular there so whenever she walks in she is greeted by Jack who is also a regular that comes in everyday at this time to get his usual mocha Frappuccino after work.

She finds an open table and pulls out her laptop from her backpack. She usually checks her email, Facebook, and her blog; before she begins to work on her story. She’s two-hundred pages into her first novel and was very proud of the accomplishment. She took an interest in writing at the age of 12 after being inspired by her English teacher. She’s won a few junior short story contests through the years and she was quite proud of that. Writing is her life, her dream, her world, and her escape from her domestic life.

Jack gets up from the table he was sitting at and pulls up a chair. He was in his early twenties, a business man, hardworking, and looked after Rebecca as if she were his younger sister. Aside from a few of her friends he was the only person who fully supported her dreams of becoming a professional author. “How’s the book coming?” He asks before taking a sip of his Frappe.

Rebecca looks up for a moment then quickly finishes off her a sentence before answering.

“Good just made it to the two-hundred mark last night.”

She looks up at Jack and watches him as he takes a lengthy sip of his Frappe. He was going to get a brain freeze by drinking it like he was. She watched his eyes, as his pupils enlarged. She knew within the next second exactly what his actions would be.

“AHH!” Jack sits his drink down on the table and massages his temples. “Ouch, ooh why’d I drink that thing so fast?”

She rolls her eyes as she takes a whiff of the air. The smell of coffee she loved that smell, hated the taste of it but loved the smell.

“I don’t know why this would surprise you; you do this every day and then do and say the exact same thing every day. It’s gotten to the point where I can reenact it.”

“Oh please, I am not repetitive.”

“Ok, it was just an observation.”

Rebecca takes her eyes off him and back to her laptop screen.

The click clacking began once more so Jack got up from the table to look for something to read while Rebecca worked.

He walked over to the magazine rack and brought a sport’s illustrated back as he flipped to the first article, something grabbed his attention, out of the corner of his eye.

As Rebecca did a quick stretch and cracked her knuckles, her long sleeve shirt had rolled up her forearm just enough to expose a nasty looking bruise on the inside of her right wrist.

“Where’d you get that nasty little bruise?”

Rebecca pulled her hands down to be reminded of last night’s awful, fight with Jacob. She pulls her sleeve over the mark. “I don’t know must’ve bumped into something recently.”

“Really because that’s what you said last week about a bruise I found on your ankle.”

Her eyes darted back and forth. “I have no memory of this.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but Rebecca wouldn’t see it. “I guess your clumsy then, eh.”

There was no response from her, so he went back to his magazine.

After finishing his Frappe and reading a few articles he looked at his watch. He waved his hands over the laptop to get her attention. She looks up. In a soft tone he tells her goodbye and that he’d see her tomorrow. She nods and waves him a quick goodbye, not wanting to lose her focus.

An hour later she stops typing, yawns, and stretches. She checks the time, saves the document and packs up her laptop. She walks across the parking lot just in time to catch the bus home.

The ride home was her last few moments of peace for the day and she basked in it as the bus directed her toward chaos, tears, and another rocky night filled with pain and heartache.

My heart can’t deny


Today while on my walk to Barnes & Noble  I was trying to think of something to post, or discuss and I’ve come up with nothing. I do however have the beginnings of a story that I’d like to share with you; however I need to work out a few kinks this weekend before posting it.

So for today I’m posting a new song that I wrote earlier this week. I was listening to this country station while taking a breather one afternoon, when an idea for a chorus kept repeating in my head until I sat down with my IPod and started to really think about it. When I started I had no idea where this song was going to go but I think it ended in the way it should have, but I will let you guys be the judge.

 

Coming home to an empty place and would swear that I am happy on my own.
Can do my own thing and get back to enjoying the stuff that you enjoy when you’re single.
No more calling to check in, or texting back and forth throughout the day.
Answering to no one; except the boss when I’m working.
It’s not until I go out to eat that it hits me. I see a new couple at the next table, sharing sweet kisses and never missing a chance to say I love you.
It’s finally then that I get up and head for the car and sure enough as I’m driving my head starts replaying the memories of our love.
(Chorus I can sit here and pretend that I’m content with you leaving, but I know deep within I can’t cover up the pain of you leaving.
My heart can’t deny that I miss you.
(I still think of you every night.)
My heart can’t deny that I miss all of our good times.)
I miss seeing you come home late and talking over dinner. You’d unwind and we’d talk about our days. Sometimes after we ate we’d get into a water fight while washing dishes and laugh at the mess we made.
I swear that night you looked so beautiful covered in suds and H2O.
So filled with life, so filled love, damn I’ve still got the image locked in my heart.
Wishing I could forget about you; thought that I’d be fine without you but…
(Chorus I can sit here and pretend that I’m content with you leaving, but I know deep within I can’t cover up the pain of you leaving.
My heart can’t deny that I miss you.
(I still think of you every night.)
My heart can’t deny that I miss all of our good times.)
You waking up in my arms and smiling as I embrace the warmth and feel of your kiss.
You look into my eyes, giving me the green light, making love and even then it’s nowhere near expressing how we feel in hearts.

Never letting go of love that was so pure, thinking of forever, planning for the future.
Completely unaware of the eventual crash and burn.
(crash and burn.)
I pull off to a side street, pull into your drive, getting ready to run for your door.
(Chorus I can sit here and pretend that I’m content with you leaving, but I know deep within I can’t cover up the pain of you leaving.
My heart can’t deny that I miss you.
(I still think of you every night.)
My heart can’t deny that I miss all of our good times.)
Still sitting in the car when I see your door open.
You walk another girl out to her car and kiss her like the way you use to kiss me.
My heart can’t deny that I miss you but my mind knows the truth. I pull out, and drive down the road to the sight of you fading in my rearview, still missing you but I know I’ve gotta let you go.