Once shot, an arrow cannot be called back. The woman who has let it fly will eventually find it–at the same moment she discovers she is a tenderfoot. There, embedded in her heel, it has found its home. She stumbles to sit, understanding a terrible lesson. The weapon she used has wounded unintended prey.

###

I have thought seriously of deleting this entire blog. It feels…not relevant, a chore, frivolous. It feels like something “other” or apart from real life.

Are you like me?

I’m a seven in prettiness,

a six in brains,

a two in articulation,

an eight in presence,

four in emotional brattiness,

five in the ability to be realistic,

three as compared to your peers,

nine when compared to my peers,

a one in confidence.

Come on. Come on, multiply me. Make me more than the sum of my parts.

Go here: http://www.duotrope.com

Publish, publish, publish…then sell, sell, sell. This is a proven strategy for new (and not-so-new) writers. Publish in the smaller periodicals, get established, then start in on the paying markets.

Just a thought.

Use your words.

Take heart, broken sad heart. Autumn is on its piper way, and with it, orange-red something somethings

no no no

(Deep breaths, girl.

Okay, try again. And a one, a two.)

Take heart, sad heart. Autumn is on its way, marching forth, and with it, fire-crossed embers that seal off pain. Isn’t that what they did? Sear the skin with molten coals to prevent bleeding? And didn’t they

… tttttt

Didn’t they—

Um, didn’t they used to (something poetic and profound to be written here)

(Deep breaths, honey)

Oh God. I cannot write.

Because it’s cathartic, it reminds us of where we’ve been, it shows us how strong we are when we see how far we’ve come.

In college, I was enchanted with author and libertine Peter McWilliams. He wrote a couple of books that were absolutely critical to me. One of them was Come Love With Me and Be My Life. In it, he records the beginning, middle, and end of a romantic love experience. It’s almost voyeuristic to read, because it’s journalistic in nature, and no doubt anyone who’s been through a heartbreak (or two) could relate. One of my favorite entries:

I write only
until I cry,
which is why
so few poems
this month
have been
completed.
It’s just
that
I…

###

“One lives but once in the world.” Does this quote not make you want to somehow experience, feel, touch, be, taste, love, reach, create, affect more in life?

“Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must.” Okay, so maybe not inspirational…but you get the sense that you are not alone, that others before you have endured and put their fantasies aside.

and finally,

“As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live.” Thank you, Mr. Wolfgang von Goethe, for throwing forth a pinpoint of hope…that somewhere out in the future, if one becomes evolved enough, and learns to have faith in one’s inherent right to a complete and fulfilled life, one will experience, feel, touch, be, taste, love, reach, create, affect more in life.

It’s a lovely circle.

Distilled energy, or fantasy

Thoughts gone sideways

Memories suffused with romanticism

Recollections of a past

Combed clean of nuisances, irritations

Practical problems

Larger, better, forever

Musings of yesterday push

Hope, a picture of tomorrow

Happily ever after

—Very interesting—

The cusp draws footsteps, hands reaching out ahead to feel the open air where all below is unknown. Here, on the rock face, time stops its sweeping and fire replaces stagnant air. Here, anxiety and anticipation become indiscernible; they face each other in mighty battle.

It is only one mere step—that drop below—and the urge to retreat radiates an influence that is not to be dismissed. “Dive! Dive,” a voice calls up, and with closed eyes, I—

Wait, what?  

Silly, I don’t give away these things so easily. Not in a blog, anyway.