When life is low
and the blows keep coming
never forget
you are not alone.
That I am here
by your side
each step you struggle
to take.
No matter how long
whatever the consequences
we will weather this storm
together.
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
Editing. Such a lovely pastime…..not. I know I’ve written about this before. A lot of the times there are gaps in my posting, whether blog, poem or story, it’s because I’m not sure I’ve written about the subject before and I don’t necessarily want to repeat myself. This particular subject, probably because I’m in the middle of editing right now, has been bugging me to write about so here I am. Early Sunday morning when I should still be sleeping, with my first cup of coffee, definitely not my last, talking about editing.
So where was I. Oh yes, this lovely pastime we as writers struggle through for some unknown insane reason.đ
At the moment, I’m on my second proof of Fated to Be from the Destiny series. Like my series Obsession, Destiny has been rewritten many times over the years. Each version changing and evolving. But not so much as this last time. This time I realized what was missing and decided to add it to the story, a supernatural element, and wallah! It started to make sense to me. Unfortunate, it also added characters and changed a lot of what I had already written. The hardest part for me is what of the already written pages still work and what doesn’t. This dilemma has slowed down the writing process, a lot.
Now I don’t know about you, but there are some passages that when I first wrote them I really like them and I don’t necessarily want to lose them. So I spend hours, sometimes days, trying to make them work until suddenly I decided it has to go. To me, this is like cutting off my right arm. These words are my baby come to life on paper. Some passages that are large enough that I cut and paste them onto another document that I label “excerpts” of whatever book I’m working on. This is an attempt to save their life, telling myself that maybe I’ll use them at some later date when I know that will probably never happen. It doesn’t mean what I come up with isn’t just as good and probably fits much better in the story as it is now. It’s just hard to let go of something that has been written down for a very, very long time. (Yes, I’m old enough to use ‘very’ twice when added to the word ‘time’. :P)
Hopefully, when I open the proof today, I am still in that mindset that if it doesn’t work, stop trying to make it fit and let it go. As I writer I want you to enjoy the book. Have it flow like it does in my head and feel what I feel. Not get mired down in the convoluted mess trying to use something that no longer works can create.
So on that note, I bid you have a lovely, and if you live in Washington, hopefully not to wet Sunday and I will see you all later.đ
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
Emotions overwhelming,
uncontrollable,
sincere.
Some say I’m delusional
others say I’m just passionate
about what I believe.
That I throw myself into my causes
with everything I have
every fiber of my being.
I say
maybe a little of both.
What I do know,
what I feel deep inside
where my heart beats strong
my convictions run high,
I am who I am,
whether right or wrong.
If you refuse to see me,
or simply cannot bend,
then maybe it’s time
to seek another friend.
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
Normally when I write for a prompt I don’t read anyone else’s response until I’m done with mine. That way what I write is not influenced by others. This time I accidentally read an answer by Joe Hesch to Sharyl Fuller’s Writing Outside the Lines prompt 2.3, which I didn’t realize until the end. What he said in his response about how he writes is a lot like how I write. So the dilemma is, how to write to this prompt and not sound exactly the same. Yeah….
Okay, let’s give this a go.
This weeks prompt is about someone I had not heard of before. Jack Kerouvac and his 30 essentials about writing called “Belief and Technique for Modern Prose”. The prompt asks us to pick one or two of the thirty techniques that fits our style of writing best. Since Joe has written so beautifully on those that also fit me, which one should I pick? I decided on #26:Â Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form.
Many times I’ve been accused of seeing what I write in my head as if it were a movie. It’s true. I see the scene as if I am watching it on a 4D screen that gives me sight, smell, feelings and dimension. Then I do my best to put into words those images and feelings. Trying to make sure that the readers feeling what my characters feel. The pain, joy, anger, despair. Try to make it as realistic as I can. Sometimes I fail because I just can’t find the right words, or the feelings and images are too strong or weak. Then there are times that I hit spot on. All I can do it write what I see and hope that you as a reader see and feel the close to the same thing.
I am also a character driven writer. We have many conversations in my head, and if I don’t write something the way they think it should be written they drive me crazy, badgering and clamoring until I get it right. (Yes, that does sound a little crazy in and of itself, but what can I say. I have voices in my head that thankfully let me lead a semi-normal life. LOL) There are those who will understand what I mean.
So now that one of those characters is off pouting in the corner after throwing a snit, I’m going to go on my last day before I have to go back to work and do what I think I do best. Write. (You may have a different opinion. Who knows.đ )
Have a wonderful day.
 Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
“Well that was a mistake.”
“Ya think?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes, I prayed for patience. I really did not need help in reminding me that my brilliant plan wasn’t so brilliant.
“Don’t you have something else to do?” I sighed.
“Not anymore since you blew that up,” Sid snarled. “It took me three weeks to put together what took you two seconds to blow up. What were you thinking?” The exasperation in Sid’s voice had it higher than normal, not to mention louder. We were starting to draw a crowd.
“Apparently I wasn’t,” I grumbled.
“Apparently not,” Sid spat glaring at the wreckage in front of us. Then she sighed. A deep from your toes sigh, and from someone that was only five foot two that was a feat. In a much calmer voice that spoke of how much our relationship that had spanned a lifetime meant to her, she said, “Well. There’s nothing to do about it now except clean up the mess and start over again.” Turning towards me, she put a finger in my face and growled with narrow eyes, “No more bright ideas without my consent. Understand!”
“Yes ma’am,” I intoned quickly.
“Good. Now get your ass in there and help me,” she barked. Turning to the crowd she waved her hands in a shooing motion and yelled, “Nothing to see here folks. Just a young kid with more browns than brains. Move along.”
Groaning in embarrassment I whined, “Sid!” The only answer I got from the old bat was a cheeky grin as she waded into the pile of rubble that was once a speeder. Shoulders slumped, arms hanging at my side, the best five-year-old pout a twenty-one-year-old could muster, I shuffled in behind her.
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
“What can I say that you don’t already know? You were there. You saw what happened. I’m not sure what help I can be at this point.” Teresa threw up her hands in exasperation, turned and paced away.
“Ever little bit helps,” Tom said gently. He knew he had to tread carefully or he would lose her, and he desperately needed her help if he wanted to do this. Taking a step towards Teresa he tried again. “It was early morning. You heard a noise and went outside to investigate….” He waited patiently for her to finish the story.
Sighing as if her bones were weary, Teresa dropped her hands to her side. “I didn’t see anything at first and was about to go back inside when the sun broke over the mountains and…,” she hesitated. It was so unbelievable that after all this time and God only knew how many tellings she still could not believe what she had seen. Looking up into Tom’s eyes, letting the desperation and awe she was feeling fill them, she whispered, “Could it be true? Could they really exist?”
“I want to believe they do,” Tom said quietly, taking another step towards her. When he was close enough that she had to look up at him, he gently cupped her face. “What we witnessed…. It was a miracle.”
“Or a curse,” Teresa muttered placing her forehead on his chest. “Everyone thinks we are crazy.”
Tom smiled. “Not more so than usual.”
Teresa could not stop the laughter that broke through her tears. Once she gained control, she looked up at Tom, the awe returning to her face.
“They really do exist, don’t they,” she breathed.
“Yes, they do,” Tom whispered solemnly.
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
It’s there,
right in front of your face.
Screaming at you to see
what everyone already knows.
How can you miss
something that is so obvious?
Take your blinders off.
Blink your eyes once,
twice,
three times,
whatever it takes
to realize the futility
of continuing along this path.
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
The rocking horse flew through the air, buzzing, neighing, doing loop-de-loops. Not a care in the world. The summer day was hazy with heat, showing the pollen that flew into the air as the rocking horse zoomed in and out of the flowers that filled the meadow. What a glorious day to be free! it thought. Free to fly among nature and all her glory. For the rocking horse had never been free before. At least he did not think so. All he remembered was the golden cage that surrounded him from his very first memory. It had been a large cage, filled with toys, a miniature barn with bedding his master called fluff, whatever that was. Plenty of food and water, and he was treated like a prize possession. All and all not a bad place to be, but it wasn’t…free.
With a long whinny that was its laugh, the rocking horse took off into the sky like it had been shot out of a cannon, leaving a trail of vapor behind it. Once it got to the highest point it stopped. Its small wings fluttered furiously to keep him suspended as he surveyed the beauty around him. Green rolling hills butted up against majestic mountains, the tallest peek raising up into the sky like a silent sentinel, watching over all below. Farms dotted the landscape with a village centered in the middle, a gathering place for the humans to sell their wares, catch up on gossip and celebrate their holidays and special occasions. Today was one of those days. A wedding was taking place and everyone one was there, decked out in their finery to help the happy couple begin their new life together. Which was why the rocking horse was free.
Sighing in contentment, the rocking horse looked down at the forest below it. Surely there were more like him. Maybe he should go down and start….
A shadow fell over him and then was gone.
What the…?Â
Glancing around, the rocking horse could not see anything. Shrugging his shoulders, he once again surveyed below him, trying to figure out the best spot to begin his search. This time he saw the shape of the shadow floating across the tree tops. Large and silent, it drifted lazily around him. Taking a closer look, the rocking horse realized that the appendages that were out to the side of the body were wings and the large fan like thing in the back were…TAIL FEATHERS!
As soon as the rocking horse began his dive, a shrill shriek filled the summer air. Not daring to look back, the rocking horse streaked towards the safety of the woods.Dodging in and out of trees, he could hear the bird crashing and shrieking behind him. Must…find…shelter! There was a loud crash, then a crack of wood, then silence.
The rocking horse dared not slow to see if the bird had crashed into that large tree it had just flown through. No, it knew now where it must go if it was to remain safe. This outside world was a scary place, with things far to large that wanted to eat it for a morning snack. There was only one place it would be safe.
Sometime later, the front door opened to a small cottage near the woods and a young woman danced in, humming a lilting tune.
“What a wonderful day,” she sighed. “Full of laughter, good food and good friends. They really should have weddings more often, they are so much fun.” Putting her basket on the wooden table in the kitchen, she danced over to the small living area where there was a large golden cage and her childhood friend. “Hello, my little one. How was your day today? Uneventful, I suppose. Let me tell you about mine and we can relive it together, shall we?”
The miniature rocking horse neighed in response, rising up into the air and doing a somersault telling her it was happy to see her. With a small smile the woman did not see, it hung in the air, happily listening to his master’s voice as she regaled him with the days events. Happy to be safe and sound and alive in his home.
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
Have a wonderful song filled summer day.đ
Desktop Nexus: Cheza and Kiba reaching for each other
Love’s sacrifice,
never forgotten
always in my heart.
My promise,
my vow
to you I recite.
I will find what was lost
defeat endless night.
Darkness will retreat
to the light.
All I ask
through eternities might
is that you fight for life,
that you hold on to hope
with both hands tight.
Desktop Nexus: The Light in the Darkness
*Laughter
maniacal
chilling.
Accepting the challenge
so boldly declared.
Confident in victory
Darkness waits, unaware
the strength in love
as pure as light,
will conquer
even the darkest
of night.
If you only
hold on tight*
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
This is the end of out story. I hope you have enjoyed it. I may, in a time not today (okay, been rhyming to much!) flesh these poems out into a full fledged story. We will see.
If you have missed the beginning click here: Part 1
Desktop Nexus: A Gift of Darkness
I walk into  darkness
away from the light.
The memory of you
once beautiful and bright,
fades with every step
taken into the night.
I am no longer
my own,
my master I must
obey.
The God’s have
forsaken me,
Hell is my home,
my debt to pay.
There is no one to
save me.
I am
alone.
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
This is a poem/story that came to me while driving and listening to Phil Collinâs, In the Air Tonight. Where it has seemed to take on a mind of itâs own, as with all stories, that first initial push to write furiously has slowed down. So I will post as soon as my stewing and listening to the song repeatedly give me inspiration. If you have just found this story, here is the link to Part 1. I hope you enjoy.
Layers Of Life
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