Lifes curve balls

Recently I began this blog to share my thoughts on writing and other short pieces. Well recently my husband has been diagnosed with lung cancer, and the blogs and web sites that I have started and found to be the center of my life have taken  a slight back seat.

While I am still writing so I am not hoovering over my husband, the projects I am working on have changed. Marla will still be worked on, however Father God I believe has led me into a new direction with my writing.

The project I will be placing front and center is called "strength from within" and consists of three stories where thru the Almighty power of God the characters within this story find the strength they did not know they had when they began to trust on God.

Psalm 46:1 Message

 "God is a safe place to hide ready to help when we need him."


Regardless of  what happens in my life God is always there to lead me back to his open arms.
 

New Project almost complete

Hello, life can be so funny and so unpredictable sometimes. I'm so sorry this is late getting out. But never fail here is this weeks installment.   Every year I attempt Nanowrimo and while sometimes I can complete the 50,000 words there are years I do not.  My confession is  often times I will add bits and pieces of stories which absolutely make no sense just to reach that goal. I know - that's really bad. 

But this year I attempted to do nano again, but didn't finish this year. However I did learn something- well a few things this year. One it's okay if you don't finish with 50,000 words. After all that's a lot of words, and some just can't do that and that's okay. Two, I am a short story writer, My stories may reach 20,000 total. If I want to create a 50,000 word story I simply add several short stories of the same genre between the covers.  And finally joining several unfinished short stories that never made it to the end by themselves is working this time. 

I have found my voice as they say, I have dug deep enough to find something that is working, and I am loving my story and characters and am really enjoying writing this story.  To me that's what matters. I lost my way for a while, focusing on all the wrong things when I should have been reminding myself I needed to write these stories for me. If I enjoy them as a writer you will ( hopefully) enjoy them as a reader. 

Currently my new project's working title is called Marla and she is very much like me in that she is a writer who is working to find her style, her voice and her passion as a writer, and she has with a story called "The Storm" I am only 3,000 words away from being able to officially call it a short story.  

After it is done, I will let you know when and where you can find it with its blub. 

The Red Chair Chapter 2

Walking into my house with the chair in tow I quickly found a place that was similar to where the chair rested in my grandma’s home. The color matched my decor as if it was meant to go there. After everyone went to bed I was faced to face with the chair and the memories that it evoked. As I stood there facing the chair a smile soon crossed my face as visions of my grandma appeared sitting in the chair.

She looked the same as she did when I last saw her, with short greying curls soft eyes and a smile.  She wore house slippers a blouse she had made and a pair of blue slakes. As I stood there she was looking right at me.  “Well don’t just stand there child come take a seat.” Her arms were outstretched as she waited.

Not knowing what else to do I stepped closer and took a seat at her feet as I did so many times growing up, and the moment I did I was transported back to my childhood.

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, what brings you back now?”

“I’ve been sent to give you a message.”

 “Really? What about?” I drew the footstool closer and waited for her to continue.

“This.” I followed my grandma’s arm as she pointed to the couch.

Before my eyes I saw a woman holding a baby. “That’s you as you started your life.” My grandma continued as the scenes came and went. There were scenes such as parental divorce, some bullying, bad decisions which led to unwanted pregnancies or miscarriages, fear of telling your parents about what’s going on in your life. Even the abuse by boyfriends, and other minor things that brought you here.” Your grandma continued.

“But what does that have to do with the message you have for me now?”

“Because you have been wondering why you are experiencing these things. Because God has great plans for you. Read Jeremiah 29:11 ‘God tells you that he knows the plans he has for you to do good and not harm.’ So just regardless of what happens in your life, God will use it for His glory. When your time comes to help others you will have an idea of what others have been thru and be the one to step in where no one else can.  Just have faith.

 Moments later the image of her grandma vanished and she was again alone in her living room with the thoughts she was left with.

Question for readers. If you would like to see a chapter 3 with stories of how She helps others please leave a comment with your thoughts.

Short story - The Red Chair- Chapter 1

                                               The Red Chair

The red chair which sat in the corner was the only thing that remained when everything else changed, as I looked closer at the chair I noticed it wasn’t just a red chair. The chair was the very same one that was in my grandma’s home. I know the chair was the same because I secretly carved my name in the wood on the back leg. I don’t know why I carved my name it was just a kid thing back then.

Maybe I because when I became an adult I might come across it and remember doing it as a child.  I was now standing face to face with a part of my history and a decision to make. At what cost do I bring a part of my past home? At what cost do I bring the past into the present and possibly open wounds better left closed?

The longer I stood there the more the memories of my childhood came back to me, as a smile formed on my lips. The many wonderful stories my grandmother told me as I sat on her lap, than at her feet when I grew older. How could I not continue that tradition with the children who crossed my path? My own or those I cared for over the years. I took a deep breath, looked at the men who stood next to me and led the charge to retrieve what was mine many years ago.  

Due to circumstances the next post will be Monday Dec 1. Sorry for any inconvenience