GRACIOUS LADY

On February 21, 2016December 15, 2016 By Annika PerryIn poetry, Writing58 Comments

I am delighted to have the chance to feature another one of Thalia Gust’s poems. Enjoy the walk with her.

Gracious Lady

I met a gracious lady, she smiled, light lit her eyes,

I dropped a pretty curtsy, to the wise woman.

A curtsy learnt from childhood, showing honour and respect.

Do we really honour those older and wiser, fully enough?

The Lady spoke to me, we shared

experiences of life.

We shared joys, pains and love.

Her road was a gilded one but her heart had bled.

I know my mother would love this lady, enough said.

Walking among the roses, we talked

about our children with humour and delight.

About countries and people, about peace and war,

About the sky, the ocean and nature’s force.

We found unity.

I walked up the mountain in a far away land

met a Shepherd, resting with his flock.

You have come, he said, seeking long,

please sit down and share my fare.

Quietly I did as the old man asked.

We talked in stillness about life,

its passions and griefs, its beauty and joy.

What can you hear, the old man asked,

I was quiet for a while, then said

The mountain stream, the wind through the grass.

The old man smiled and his eyes shone bright.

You have come a long way, he said

thus you found the core of joy.

Never forget the mountain stream, the wind

Let stillness and wonder live in your soul.

© Thalia Gust.

CORKS ARE FLYING!

On February 6, 2016February 5, 2016 By Annika PerryIn Writing62 Comments

Dear Friends, are you all ready to duck? The champagne corks are ready to pop! It’s time to celebrate! I have completed the first draft of my novel!

It was with euphoria and numb shock that I wrote the last word on my first draft this week. Euphoria as I finally achieved my lifelong dream of completing a book. Numb as the hard work abruptly came to an end. I floundered from over-work and the loss of my main focus of the last twelve months.

Without all your help, support, advice and encouragement here on wordpress I know I would never have persevered and reached this point. You all kept me going in this isolated insular world of writing – your warm, kind words providing a real boost, your advice so welcome and positive and above all your friendship offering a spiritual lift. A heartfelt THANK YOU to you all.

What now?

First of all, my self-imposed deadline for this week was as a result of it being my mother’s birthday this weekend. Always my biggest fan and strongest advocate of my writing, I wanted to present her with a printed version of my first manuscript as a special present. As a way of saying thank you – for always believing in me; for being there when I doubted myself.

Printing?

This point was raised by fellow blogger a while back and I realised she was right – the cost can become prohibitive and may not always give the best quality.

Inspired I remembered an advert in my son’s school magazine and on Friday I headed down to their printing department. For a fraction of the cost at under £ 4 (under $6) they printed the manuscript double-sided and bound it as well.

It was great feeling to hold the manuscript in my hands at the printers. Inside myself I was bopping around whilst in real life I shyly held the printed material.

Recently I saw an interview with a successful writer and she said how many writers, including herself, had difficultly saying what she did for work as she felt a ‘fraud’. As my book was being put together I felt the same on its first outing to strangers. The printer only glanced at it but even so, my heart thumped heavily.

This is only the beginning. I am under no illusions and am fully aware that the hard work starts now! Revisions, editing, scrutinising, re-writing.

First though I will set the manuscript aside for a week or two. Out of sight, in a drawer. This universally accepted procedure is a necessity and I understand why. My book and I need a break from each other. In ten days I’m off to Sweden for a short break so this suits well and upon my return I will start work on it; refreshed, re-energised.

In the meantime, I’m studying and reading in more detail than ever all about self-publishing v. traditional publishing methods. I will make my decision in due course. As always I welcome your help and comments.

Please join me in a toast.

Cheers! Skål! Prost! ¡Salud! Yamas! Salud!

Finally, I would like to end this post with a quote from Stephen King, where he talks about writing.

‘I did it for the buzz. I did it for the pure joy of the thing. And if you can do it for joy, you can do it forever.’

Attention

On January 10, 2016January 10, 2016 By Annika PerryIn Writer's Quote Wednesday, Writing43 Comments

Time. When did this become such a rare commodity in our modern day life? It is hard to imagine an era when time – time for ourselves, each other – was part of everyday life. Not ‘something’ to be negotiated, scheduled, squeezed into a tiny segment of our 24/7 lives.

With this in mind the above quote by the French philosopher, Simone Weil (1909 – 1943) struck me as particularly poignant.

How often do any of us take the time to talk, to really talk to someone? To take the time for conversations that reaches into the depths of the heart, where the spirit lies sad, where secrets are ready for harvesting. To explore moments that warrant more than a cursory glance, that necessitate our full equally mutual attention.

Norh Pole Sunset (1)

I was motivated to write this blog of quotes by lovely Colleen at http://silverthreading.com/2016/01/06/writers-quote-wednesday-bewow-j-k-rowling/ at her regular Writer’s Quote Wednesday. Always a delight with a feast of uplifting, moving quotations and beautiful images. Do pop over and have a look – well worth a moment of quiet reflection in our hectic world. Who knows, you might be inspired to take part!

It took me a year, but better late than never!

The Whiteout Years – Part Two

On January 5, 2016January 5, 2016 By Annika PerryIn short story, Writing37 Comments

Here it is; the second and final installment of my short story, ‘The Whiteout Years’. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. That was a joy – or perhaps that is not the most appropriate word. Considering…

To read Part One, click here. There is an option to read the whole story here, The Whiteout Years.

Finally, a huge thanks and hugs to you all for reading and for the many warm and positive comments. I’m truly touched by your words and they have given me such a lift. I feel it’s through the comments that a real sense of each other develops and relationships are built; that is the heartfelt core of blogging.

The Whiteout Years – Part Two

Along the road-side Carl spotted the triangle warning sign for elks. For the first time that day he smiled. The signs were far and few between, not through lack of trying. The local highway agency put them out, however they were soon quickly stolen by souvenir hunting tourists and taken home as a memento of their holiday in Sweden. The resilience of the authorities was staggering – hundreds of signs stolen, hundreds more put out.

Out of the blackness Carl spotted the sign for the village. Two kilometres. His fifth year here and the road felt as familiar as the one he drove every day to work. How could that be? How could he feel so at home in a place he’d visited so infrequently?

He started to in shock, eyes blinded by a kaleidoscopic sheet of colour. Blinking, he saw more rainfalls of brilliant reds, whites, purples high in the sky. Another rocket swerved to the right, evaporating high up in the dark. Firework upon firework followed. Carl was late, the plane had been delayed and it must already be midnight. The start of a new year. As he drew closer to the village Carl saw that it had excelled itself. Now he could hear the distant thunder of the rockets, the odd whoops of delight from the crowd.

Three years since his last moments with Karin. Three years since days, weeks, months, years ceased to matter. Her parent’s had survived their loss; he never knew how. At their insistence Carl came every year to visit them. Whilst he held himself responsible for the accident, they had taken it upon themselves to save him. A lost cause, he told them repeatedly. He’d tried to escape their care and concern – to no avail. So, here he was again. Late.

Suddenly a wall of brown appeared in his lights. Large eyes gleamed in the headlights and instinctively Carl slammed on the breaks. The car spun to the side and with a smash it stopped; then suddenly it lifted and twisted up into the air before landing on its roof with a cushioned thud. Outside Carl heard the sound of an injured animal, the pained barking of an elk. As the car spun slowly, Carl saw the huge animal steady itself, before sheepishly trekking into the trees.

He heard her breaths next to him, the harsh rasping and puffs of warm air upon his cheek. Tiny wisps of vapour floated in front of his face, warmth meeting cold. Carl started to shake, then thought of Karin and reached out to her, to protect her. The seat was empty. It was all wrong. Where was she? Wasn’t she driving? Why was he in the driver’s seat? She must have escaped? Gone to get help? He heard her voice in the distance, “Keep safe! Live.”

“Karin!” Carl shouted her name until his voice was hoarse, quaking with the cold. His hand, blue and black, fought to release the seat-belt buckle. Karin, he had to find her.

She was driving, laughing, singing away as they took an unknown short cut to her parents. He should have said no. He should have told her to slow down. Be sensible. No, he had told her, she’d shouted back. “Sensible is not living, this is!” and with that she’d turned the wheel first one way and then the other, skidding round and round. He’d been furious, his temper frayed with fear. Seeing this, Karin had thrown herself around his neck, nestled her face into his neck, kissing him, comforting, all the time muttering, “Sorry, sorry.” After a while the car chilled and conscious of the time and the fireworks display, they set off. “Please, Carl, sensible is okay but remember to live, to live wildly, madly. Promise me.”

“Wildly, madly,” the words echoed in his mind, around him. “Please live…” the silent voice begged of him,

“Live!” Karin’s voice again. Twisting stiffly in his seat, Carl searched for her. She’d been driving, more carefully after their stop, but he suddenly noticed her seatbelt. She’d forgotten to fasten it again. He told he to stop and do it up. She refused, saying they were soon there. He insisted. She started teasing him, “Calm Carl,” when suddenly he reached over in a huff for the belt. There was no warning, no skid, no shout. Nothing. Just a sharp descent down into the ditch, the car clumsily crashing, round and round down the steep slope. They would have been ok, the police said later. They would have been ok, if it wasn’t for the birch tree. Karin’s side of the car hit it full on, the door crushed on to her side. Unconscious for hours, Carl woke in the hospital with Karin’s father by his side, tears streaming down his face as he held Carl’s questioning look.

“Live wildly…” Karin’s voice again, demanding to be heard and freezing Carl started to, only to find himself dangling upside down in his seat, his head searing with pain, so cold time slowed. With her warm hand on his black fingers, they began to glow red as blood pumped painfully into them. With her guiding force Carl reached for his seatbelt until a sharp click released the buckle and with difficulty he clambered onto the road.

Ahead lights sparkled from the windows of the houses in the village, colourful tree lights, window lights, candles. The last firework crackled in a cacophony light. “Karin!” Carl spun round, stumbling with dizziness. No one. Nothing. Yet, still something.

The lights ahead beckoned, the lights of warmth and life and for the first time in three years Carl could see them, feel them. The mantle of oblivion had been lifted and yes, he would listen to her, to live wildly, madly. With tears stinging, freezing into tiny droplets on his cheek Carl staggered off towards the village.

The End

© Annika Perry 2015

HAPPY LUCIA

On December 13, 2015December 13, 2015 By Annika PerryIn Lucia, Writing61 Comments

lucia2

TODAY in Sweden nearly every home, school, hospital, factory, workplace, church, hotel and restaurant is celebrating LUCIA.

oldluciacard Lucia is the Bringer of Light and is celebrated on what, in the old almanac, was the darkest day of the year. The day is one of light, hope and love. The tradition has its roots in St. Lucia of Syracuse who died as a martyr in AD304.

postcardview Whilst the dark holds its firm grip on night, households across the country waken and quietly prepare. The long white gowns will have been carefully ironed the day before, the red sash belts laid out, candles and matches placed at the ready.

realcandles Lucia herself carries a crown of candles on her head. These are often now battery powered but not too long ago normal wax candles were used. The crown was placed on a damp handkerchief on the head. As the wax melted onto the damp fabric, a sizzling sound could be heard by those closest.

As well as Lucia there are her attendants, tärnor, who are dressed in white gowns with a silver glitter circle on their heads and carrying a lit candle.

Carl Larsson Style Lucia Pictures In the later years a place was also made for boys, mainly as Star boys, stjärngossar, wearing a white gown, a pointed conic hat with a star and carrying a silver star stave. Recently younger boys are also dressed as gingerbread men.

The hushed bustle of the waiting crowd falls to stillness and into the darkness comes Lucia and her train, the glittering light from the candles heralding her visit, traditional songs sending a dusting of heaven across the darkness.

At this point both men and women are tear-eyed.

luciachurch

As the Lucia train approaches the songs ring light and clear. One is ‘Sankta Lucia’, which is the song that epitomises Lucia. Its evocative tones weave their way into my soul. I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling this.

Here is the translation of the first verse:

‘The darkness lies weightily
on fields and cottages
in places forgotten by the sun
the shadows brood.
Into our dark homes She steps
with lighted candles on her head
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia.’

The spirits continue to soar as Lucia and her attendants come to a halt, either at the front of a larger gathering or if at a home in front of the rest of the family.

church.jg

Now other festive songs lilt their way across the break of morning, the star boys even having their own solo performance. The mystical magical aura shimmers in the candlelight, spreading across the nation.

Being Sweden no festive occasion would be complete without its own traditional fare.

Particular for this day are Lussekatter (Lucia Kitten Buns), which are made with saffron.

lussek

Also on offer are pepparkakor, cinnamon/ginger biscuits. Although many in Sweden now buy theirs, we still make ours and here are some we (my mother, son and I) made yesterday.

Pepperkakkor

Finally on offer for this early morning feast is the special braided Luciabröd (Lucia Bread). To drink there is either coffee, milk or for the more daring a cup of julglögg.

brod

Please, join me today, on this special Lucia day for a cup of coffee or glögg. Help yourself to Pepparkakor. Enjoy the song below whilst you nibble away.

Happy Lucia to you all!

Lucia Morning in Gothenburg Church 2015

TWO DAYS OF PANIC

On December 4, 2015 By Annika PerryIn Scrivener, Writing49 Comments

Sometimes things are just going too well. A few days ago my work was in full flow, Scrivener now an integrated part of my writing life and the proud bearer of my WIP.

So, there I was happily working away one morning. I took a lunchtime break and since the sun had decided to take a peek at our part of the world I popped out for a walk with a friend. Once home I had a couple of hours before end of school so I happily returned to the computer. I was in such good spirits I might even have been humming a little tune.

With the screen up I double clicked on Scrivener and waited. And waited and waited. Nothing! Just a spinning of the rainbow coloured wheel.

I didn’t panic – as yet. Sometimes programmes won’t load the first time and I force quit and tried again. And again and again.

By now I was grinding my teeth and I felt the pressure increase with the onset of a stress headache.

Why is it we will not accept the inevitable? After two hours of all different attempts I gave up. I was thoroughly dispirited by now. My cheerful songs of before replaced by a melancholic resignation. If I had to look at that ‘scrivener not responding’ comment once more I fear I might scream…or worse. I restrained myself and left my computer for a while.

Calmer, determined I returned and started the Google step – there is always Google involved, don’t you find? I hadn’t realised how vitriolic some people became on the process. There were some quite nasty (and at times personal) attacks as one person blamed computers, others the programme. Deflated I left the sites and went back to the manufacturer and easily found the email address to the tech team.

I sent them quick note of my problem and operating system and I sat back pleased. Help would soon be on the way!

In my dreams! An automatic reply said they were experiencing an unprecedented high number of problems and would reply in two days!!

I closed everything down and turned off the computer.

The next day I of course couldn’t stop myself attempting to open the programme. Again and again. No luck.

Over 80,000+ words of my WIP now seemed lost. As well as all my other projects and collections of work. To say I was by now feeling low would be an understatement.

At certain stages I had saved my whole draft in pages (Apple word processing programme) and even emailed an extra one to a friend for safe keeping. However all my latest changes were not included not. More importantly all my ideas on cork board and side-notes on each chapter, plus notes and ideas for book two were inaccessible.

Furthermore Scrivener had been so perfect for my working method, so automatic and exceptionally useful I couldn’t imagine starting over with a new programme.

By the afternoon my mood had dipped lower than ever. I do what I always do in such circumstances. Placing my documents in a large pile I started to clean. Always therapeutic. The house got cleaner, my mind became more cluttered and stressed.

Then late last night amongst the mass of emails was one unknown entity. I almost trashed it as spam until I spotted a kind apology for my long wait and then a positive and calm ‘let’s get started’ sentence.

Still miffed I could not help but be reassured by the friendly professional tone of the email, the promise to get this sorted.

Three clear steps were listed for me to attempt first of all. Despite the late hour I just had to try and my Mac sang out as usual upon start. The steps included the magic of finding a ‘package software’ for my file and within that deleting two files.

Surely it couldn’t be that simple?

The next step said to try to open my project. With little expectation I double clicked. Waited. Yeah!!!! It started to load, then said it was ‘retrieving’ data…at last the project was up – but the pages were blank, my long side bar of chapters empty, nothing down the left column!!

This was even worse, now there was nothing left to rescue. I plunged into darkness but then recalled the strong self-assured email. I could not imagine they would let this happen. With a few more clicks on the side bar, my long list of chapters and the full WIP loaded fully.

I held my breath. Everything seemed in order. Up to date with all my latest amendments and additions.

Not quite believing it would work, I closed Scrivener and then opened my folder again. A satisfying brr from my computer and up it popped on the screen. Perfect.

With shutdown complete I headed to my family to deliver the good news, dancing downstairs en route and entering the living room with a slight leap of joy.

It has been an emotional two days. I’m relieved everything works now but still bemused what actually happened. I’ve asked scrivener to explain what could have gone wrong and if this could happen again. In the meantime I have finally found out how to set automatic back up from Scrivener although I doubt this would have helped anyway since that whole file was corrupted.

My ease and enjoyment of using the system will in the end override any long term concerns I have and I will continue now to work away on my first draft with renewed confidence.

HAPPY 1st ADVENT

On November 29, 2015 By Annika PerryIn Advent, Writing52 Comments

However much we moan about it, most of us cherish our routines, need that steady rhythm in our life for peace, stability and joy. An extension to routine is tradition, the bells of the festivities / seasons that cement us to life’s path, that unite families and friends, that bring together our loved ones for celebrations. Traditions at times of life and death. Together being the keyword.

One such tradition is celebrated by many today and I want to wish everyone a very Happy 1st Advent.

As young we would gather on each Sunday staring at the unlit candles, the four red lights signifying to me an unquantifiable long run until Christmas. The patience needed for those four weeks was not within my grasp as in my excitement I would physically become sick. Older and maybe even a little bit wiser I now treasure the whole peace of December, the calm Sundays, the significance of that first light.

Another tradition is the star in the window, a beacon of hope and belief in life itself I feel. A sparkle of joy from our window to passers by walking their dogs in the grey drizzle, to the school children walking through the early frosty morning.

Finally, but not least – Advent Calendars! The big kid in me is still as excited by these as when young. My son has his already – it is one we made many years ago together when he was very young. One of those projects you embark upon, thinking this will be easy and quick. Two days later we had ransacked our house for little boxes, the dining room turned into an art studio of paint and glue, I’d explored art shops for gold paint. The advent box is now slightly worn and tired but lives on gloriously, bright with the wonderful memories it shares, solid with tradition, the embellishment of love and family.

A BLESSING IN DISGUISE

On November 19, 2015 By Annika PerryIn Writing58 Comments

The house was in full flow!

In my study I was busy answering emails, next door my son was again multi-tasking – this time playing on his XBox, talking to a friend via the game as well as talking to another friend on Skype and relaying the conversation. The mind boggles! Downstairs hubby took a few moments for himself, catching up on the football. A normal modern evening.

Ablaze with light our house was a beacon of busyness. Then CLICK!

Darkness. Utter and total darkness, the darkness of our fears, the darkness of our fore-fathers, the darkness of old.

Silence. I’d forgotten how the two went hand in hand as the total shocked silence fell on us all. As one I imagined us staring, or rather not staring, at our black blank and silent screens.

I reached for my phone and its torch app when another click heralded light. I sighed with disappointment as the bright glare once again invaded our home. The manic whirring of the external drive irritatingly loud.

CLICK!

We were plunged into darkness. Again! My heart leapt for joy and I took a moment to savour the peace and quiet. Downstairs I heard the mutter of ‘where’s the torch?’ followed by the crashing of objects in the cupboards. Of course I knew exactly where the torch was but this moment was too precious to rush.

With further mutterings of ‘I’ve found it’, I headed to my son’s room, led by the thin ray of my phone light. Unmoved he sat on his bed, a bemused expression on his face, lit by the bleak light of his phone, a light attempting but failing to penetrate the blackness.

I went to find another torch, one of those Science Museum ones and by pumping the bar a stronger beam shines the way.

In hushed tones we started to become organised. With candles in nearly every room anyway (I’m Swedish – enough said) I started to light the ones upstairs. Downstairs there was the habitual mumblings of ‘where are the matches?’. I know they’ll be discovered soon enough and remain quiet.

The house started to glow. It was if the crazy pace of the evening had hit a brick wall and now the real us was allowed to step forth and take its place. The spiritual peace weaved itself around the rooms, a mystical gossamer veil descended upon us.

I placed three candles in my son’s room. Two large church-style candles were lit in the bathroom standing on the windowsill altar.

Soon we gathered in the living room, the soft gentle candle light casting its own original display of shadows. For a while this was just perfect. We sat and watched the flickering candles, the flowing hues of darkness interrupted by the wisps of light. This was just enough. There was a spiritual silence and almost reverentially we fell upon it, absorbed it into our being. Gradually conversation ensued; quiet and calm with our minds stilled by the ethereal aura.

Even though the house was warm we switched on the fire and I slid onto the floor like the child that lives within me and beside me my son stretched full out on the carpet. This was good. Doing nothing together.

After all, those emails could wait until tomorrow. My son texted his friends of the events and said he’d see them in school and as for the football, well, that could wait.

For that evening nothing seemed more vital and fulfilling than being. Being together without distractions, our faces lit by the warmth of candles, the soft-focus of life returning.

I blessed the blackout – I just hoped it didn’t last too long!

‘Silence is sometimes the best answer.’

Dalai Lama

My First Non-NaNowriMo Week

On November 8, 2015November 8, 2015 By Annika PerryIn NaNoWriMo, Writing39 Comments

dickinson

At the beginning of October I felt the buzz from the build-up of writers preparing for this months challenge. Come the middle of October the intensity of preparations was increasing and as I read more and more about the NaNoWriMo I was sorely tempted to join.

However, my writing needs did not suit the criteria for the actual challenge, but knowing so many of you were beavering away on your creative projects I was inspired to set and try to complete my own challenge.

I have already completed 70,000 words of my first draft. My challenge is now to finish this by the end of the month!

My initial task was to familiarise myself with what I have written – this alone filled me with fear.

One day in mid October I set the printer going and looked on in quiet awe as it shook under the stress of the workload. I’ve never printed so many pages in one go! Over 400 and that is double-paged. Finally a large block of paper sat on my desk.

What if I didn’t like it? Or even hated it? What if it wasn’t any good? I’m a lousy liar, even more so to myself. The moment of truth had arrived.

I started early one morning and as per Stephen King’s suggestion in ‘On Writing’ I decided to read what I had written in one day. By my side was a new A4 notebook and three pencils, all sharpened, ready for use. At this stage I was looking for major errors – particularly wrong names or places etc – as well as major plot faults or omissions.

To my relief I enjoyed what I read and I was carried away by the work it involved. After scribbling pages of notes and scrawling corrections across most of the text pages I took a rest. Over the next two weeks I edited on screen according and then planned for the first week of NaNoWriMo.

There was one major problem with the book and this struck me the day I read the whole text. I also realised this is what had caused me to let the whole project slide to a halt earlier in the year.

As I read the last two chapters I found them to be jarringly rushed and rough. As I had headed towards 70,000 words I had started to panic about the length of the novel. Whilst there were technically only about 30,000 words left until the end of the novel (a typical novel length being 80,000 – 100,00 words), I had a vast amount of ideas and plot that I wanted to incorporate into it. I had begun to take short cuts to try to achieve this.

This was a mistake and reading all my ideas for the rest of the book it became obvious that I must split it into at least two books or perhaps even aim for a trilogy. I will decide that in the future. For now I have put those ideas and chapters in a separate folder in Scrivener marked ‘Book Two’. Nothing like optimism! At the moment I need to complete my first draft.

As some of my draft was written out of sequence there were certain places that needed an extra ‘connecting’ chapter and at the start of this week I wrote two such new chapters. Once started, I revelled in writing away on my book, happy to be reunited with my characters. My writing flowed easier than ever and I believe writing my blog over the months has helped improve and hone my skill.

Within a few days I had completed over five and a half thousand words on the two new chapters. Furthermore I rewrote two previous chapters. These were initially written from the first person viewpoint as I was at that stage exploring various viewpoints before settling on a close third person viewpoint for the book.

I am satisfied with the work achieved this week and have decided to split the first draft into three sections. After reprinting the first third I reread this carefully making editing adjustments as necessary. I also feel two further chapters are required to enhance the continuity of the story. These I will write next week. After that I believe the first third of my book will be complete. By then I expect the word count to be approximately 80,000. Altogether I estimate the book will be around 100,00 words long.

Being so close to completing my book I truly appreciate the work, effort and resilience it takes to finalise such a project and I am filled with respect for all writers out there who have completed a book, be it published or not.

As I once again enter my fictional world I want to wish everyone best of luck with NaNoWriMo, whether taking part officially or ‘unofficially’. Remember to enjoy.

“Just set one day’s work in front of the last day’s work. That’s the way it comes out. And that’s the only way it does.” John Steinbeck

Photo: Courtesy of The Magazine of the National Endowment for the Humanities

PATIENCE & PASSION

On November 1, 2015 By Annika PerryIn NaNoWriMo, Writing45 Comments

Photo I took in October 2015 and which was printed in local paper on Friday.

Patience is not my strongest virtue and this is particularly true when it comes to gardening. In Spring I planted a passion flower in a pot and placed it on the sunny deck.

Full of hope and expectation I was soon checking the intermingled star-shaped leaves for buds, tucked away behind the foliage. No luck. During the warm summer days I sat swinging gently on the wooden swing seat and cast surreptitious glances at the Passion flower. No luck. I waited and waited before finally this Autumn giving up all hope of blooms.

Whilst washing up one morning last week I spied something most unusual dangling above the fence by the seat. Could it be? Surely not? I dashed out in the gentle rain – at last, one glorious passion flower. I’m sure I danced on the spot, then paused at various angles to examine this wonder of intricate design. Sheer perfection. Such colourful flamboyancy.

Returning indoors my mind spun on this one lone flower. There was a lesson to be learnt here. Patience and perseverance. Words that I realised should be every writer’s keystone.

Patience in the task at hand. Patience to trust yourself, follow your path, your writing path. To believe that your goal will be achieved but perhaps not in the way or time frame your mind has set itself.

Intrinsically linked to patience is perseverance. To continue with your project, not to lose hope and to believe with all your heart that perseverance will reap the rewards.

As so many are now entering this month’s NaNoWriMo I feel patience and perseverance are required more than ever. May they give you strength and energy and don’t forget to have some fun along the way. I wish you all success with your endeavours.

Although I am not officially entering NaNoWriMo I will take this opportunity of what I imagine will be a quieter month on WordPress to concentrate and finalise a couple of writing projects. However, I’ll check in now and then on everyone; a whole month away would give me withdrawal symptoms!

‘Your soul knows the geography of your destiny. Your soul alone has the map of your future, therefore you can trust this indirect, oblique side your self. If you do, it will take you where you need to go, but more importantly it will teach you a kindness of rhythm in your journey.’

John O’Donohue

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