Finding Magic.

Once in a moon
you walk in a room,
With feelings
like you belong.

Once or twice in a life,
When the weather is nice,
And the sun heats up the sky
You will hear a unicorn sigh.

Just now and then
for a smidgen of time
You believe you are
The subject of a song.

If you lay, for a week and a day,
Watch the sun play in the trees.
You’ll see faeries take up a dance,
On the warmth of the incoming breeze.

By holding the thread at end of your bed,
You get to tug it once in your dreams.
The world turns blue especially for you,
And magic exists … So it seems.

pictures by pixabay

Words from a woman who writes

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I am she the woman who writes.

I begin about six and end around ten thirty. Sorry that was a lie, it isn’t about it is at.

Unless of course we are away and other things get a look in. Things like babies to hold, people asleep, conversations to make or reminiscing to take part in.

Even then I am watching, trying to change it around. I am not writing at these times but researching. I am collecting mannerisms, tones of voice, dialect, a laugh or the tilt of a head, maybe a funny walk.

Recently we had a weekend away and my husband was asked if I was unwell. I had been nipping in and out of the bathroom to scribble. Having a pen or pencil concealed about my person for use at all times is  law.

I often have a character or two with my mother’s words, my father’s hat and yesterday my character had my doctor’s gait. I write storylines with my neighbour’s hen house. I will also include her cackling laugh so what I am saying is,I am writing.

To relax I read, but do I? Reading is for me how other people eat, reading is sustenance, fuel or a thing that I do; so I can write. There you go! I am writing again. I read everything, I read novels, science fiction, comedy, horror and dystopian thrillers. I devour books of all kinds, romantic comedy, chic lit, true life, biographies and fantasy, ancient books, historical drama, I even read birthday greetings and cereal packs. I think I don’t read Genre`s, I read words, stories, adventures but mostly I read because I can.

Now, when I read I am seeing how the author altered the flow, how did he make me know she was scared, loved or sick? With a slight change I was led to feel the way that character felt. “You know what?” I am still writing.

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(Picture belongs to My Elephant – http://wp.me/p4NJtM-iY and I thank themomfred for the loan.)

When all at once, someone, somewhere asks, “The” question, yes that old chestnut, the elephant that enters the room. The question that once answered makes the poser of such a question, leave the room. The answer makes seemingly interested parties friends and family, oh yes even family, skedaddle, Vamoose or Huff and grunt.
Seemingly polite individuals suddenly lose their manners. Question “Are you published?” Answer I’ve had a short story a piece of flash fiction published but not a book no “Not yet”. Now I am no more than a mad deranged woman who lives in cloud cuckoo land, I am now someone not worth listening to.
But I do, I write, I was told it wasn’t enough, I needed twitter and a blog, a platform to promote my book, the one that isn’t yet finished.  I then began learning, posting, and making connections. I have asked myself “isn’t writing hard enough?” Now over the last few months I have created this Blog, of course if you are reading this you already know. For me this meant wrestling daily with an alien species. You may realise I am not so… technical or computer skilled as many are. Did I struggle? I didn’t have a clue. There are urls, dms, tweets and re tweets, pingbacks, re-blogs and what the… now I have to learn a new language. It has stretched me this blog, taken up precious time and challenged my [very flimsy] sanity. I have struggled and fought and  Percy weered, as my dear departed mother in law once said.

Even the day I finished this piece, in a technical fart! It was gone, I lost it, vamoose! I do not have a clue, the lot gone before my very eyes and never to be seen again. But I plod on, learn from mistakes, I ask others for advice and in this blogging place there are experts, friendly helpful ones.

Today I continue to post, while holding my one day book close like a suckling child, trying not to use the blog and twitter as my procrastinators.

Ellen is now Blogging snippets of stuff, as often as she can.
Not knowing if I am doing the right thing or not. I wait and watch send and lose, yes I still lose about forty percent of all my posts. Who knows it maybe a divine intervention, making me do it over once more, to make it worthy.

A naysayer I am not but neither am I a technophobe. I haven’t yet found the word for tablets and computers hate me, when I do I will let you know. I have it on hopefully good authority that a blog I must have.

But according to most, I am just a loon, an unpublished loon with desires of grandeur. Six hundred words down yesterday, my re read today demolished most of it. I use this as another positive lesson a learning tool.

Crap happens and if I can save one paragraph, one piece to plop expectantly in to my book then it is ok by me.

My Dad said “you need the crap, so you can recognise the good stuff.”
Sometimes I feel I am helping my characters come alive, and other times they dictate what is written. I have disobedient characters that wander far from my now defunct storyline, with minds of their own.
Other times the words just flow and work, they fall from my head like hair from a dog with alopecia. This twitter and blog a ma gig, has made me richer rounder and confident enough to try.
And yes! I am writing, because I am a woman who writes.


This has been re-posted because as a new blogger I knew nothing of tags or categories and had four followers, so today I hope it has a place and is relevant enough to warrant being reblogged. “How do you feel about the elephant in the room? ” Do you as I do still dread the question? I would love to hear your view.

My first Ping back

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After struggling with some of the technical stuff on computers I thought it time to grab the unicorn by the horn ‘metaphorically speaking’, and stop ignoring the things that I either didn’t understand or found challenging. Anyway they just took time away from writing and I could do without filling my head with more… stuff.

Now this either will be fantastical and amazing, or it will be another ‘Ellentrope’ Ha! that confused the hell out of spell check which brings me nicely onto my ping back. Hughes views & news posted a video *waving* on how to do a pingback and why; and so I watched and maybe learned we’ll see click here to read, follow, comment etc…

Next I found a blog post that sort of relates to making words of your own up ‘The Praise of Nowstalgia’ well it is so much more than that, and I wanted to share it.  Click here    I didn’t quite get it right but I am proud in any case.

Please let me know if this was as helpful as I hoped, and if you liked the pinged posts of my pingback and link.

ps. The picture was sent to me through Facebook, I have been unable to find the creator so I am virtually borrowing it. If anyone knows who to whom it belongs please let me know so I can give credit where its due.

W.H. Auden and inspiration.

I post this simply because, it had not once crossed my mind, that everyone didn’t know and love the words of Auden. Many poets float my proverbial boat, but none as wonderfully as Auden.

I never want to loose sight of what I am not, or what I would strive to be . I know I am not worthy to call myself a poet, or any such descriptive name. I am but a woman who loves the feel of words. I am someone who is humbled by the words that have been spaced in a certain way. Words that will forever outlive me or thee, so I lay a few of these words below. I hope to bring back this old friend to the eyes of those who would enjoy being reminded of him. Maybe to give someone who has not read any Auden, a chance to taste the tiniest of  snippets of his work. I hope you enjoy the words as much as I do.

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Audley


A question asked.

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Question: ” When do you prefer to write”
Answer:

In the only just space
the whisper of morning place.
I write in that part of the day
where I can capture words in a net
and let them arrange themselves upon the page,
I spread them in such a way that I can feel them,
inhale them, roll them around with my tounge and taste them .
I write where, when, and for as long as I can breathe.