With the loss of Borders in 2011, one must ask the question: What is going to happen to the bookstore? I read Publisher's Weekly and have noticed an alarming trend where more people are purchasing e-books than ever before; those numbers just keep rising. It concerns me, not because I am afraid I will never again be able to lay my hands on a tangible book, but because I will miss the experience of the bookstore. If you are in love with the printed word and the experience, you will understand. If you are not concerned about losing the experience, then you have never had it.
Here is what I love most about being in a bookstore:
Walking through the door is like taking a step through a portal into another world. You become instantly warm from the luminescent lighting and the camaraderie you feel with every person browsing the shelves or losing themselves in a book while nestled in the large, leather chairs and couches. Your senses are bombarded with familiar, comforting scents like coffee and newsprint. You can, at times, hear the laughter of children as they traipse through their imaginary world of princesses, dragons, and fearless knights or play with Bad Kitty or the dear sweet Little Llama.
Then, the whispers start. Every book on every shelf is calling your name, whispering the promise of their story in your ear, and telling you to, "Pick me! I can take you places you've never been!" You walk along the shelves with your heart racing, possibly touching some of the spines as you move through the rows; listening, feeling, getting excited about what you can learn from the ink printed on the pages. You are delirious and everything becomes a bit hazy in your mind. You know you went there for a new adventure but can't decide between the love story or the one about government conspiracies; perhaps the one on this shelf about kings and queens long dead...
You lift a book from the shelf and weigh it in your hand; feeling the story move against your skin. You flip it open to the jacket flaps and read a synopsis to decide if it's the kind of story you want to read this week. You inhale with your nose close to the pages and allow the scent of ink on paper to take over your senses. You feel the crackling of the glue that binds the pages together. It is intoxicating to you because you love books. You may even be of the type to sleep with one under your pillow so it can whisper its tales to you while you dream.
You make your choice; not after one or two or even three books that you perform this ritual with, but after many. You bring your carefully chosen friend - because that's really what a book is to a reader - to the counter and pay, then head home with your new friend held close; excited about what the pages will bring. When you arrive home, you lovingly unwrap your book from the bag and sit down, perhaps with a cup of coffee or tea, and begin your journey.
I am at a loss when I think of a time when I cannot perform that ritual. I don't want to shop for books via a cold piece of metal that connects me to a www something or other. I want the heat of the book in my hand, its pages giving off a little bit of life that I can absorb just by holding it.
How about you? Do you prefer a tangible book or an e-reader? Have you ever experienced the phenomenon described above?
I am eager to know, drop me a line.
It is just past 9am so I am running a little late. I am forgiving myself today because I managed to pour out almost SIX thousand words yesterday. I had my story firmly in my grasp. Today feels the same... I hear the buzz of the characters in my ears...
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Chapter 17 and a New Idea
Chapter 17 feels clunky. It has no flow because I can find little conflict. I'm sure Temujin will step in something along the way, he just hasn't yet. It's a problem when your characters lounge around and refuse to do anything interesting for a few pages. Everyone yell with me, "TEMUJIN! GET OFF YOUR BUTT, SON!"
Haha. Now that we have that out of the way...
Today my goal is 3,000 words. I am not moving my butt until those 3,000 words are on paper. That probably means chapter 17 will roll off the presses today. Good news? With 28 chapters total, there are only 11 more to go now. We are getting close to the end. I still haven't figured out what the end will be but I'm sure my characters will tell me when we come to that point. Do I follow history or allow myself a bit of creative freedom? Who knows?
I have an idea for a young reader's series and while Yassa mellows I will be working on that. I love the idea of a female protagonist; very few authors use them though. I believe that the ones who have, have done so with great success: Piers Anthony and his Mode series, Stephen King with Carrie, and, most recently, Suzanne Collins with The Hunger Games series. If you didn't fall in love with Katniss during the HG series, you either weren't reading it, or you didn't understand it. Colene, the protagonist in PA's 4 book Mode series, that began with Virtual Mode, was a tortured young lady with major character flaws that was easy to fall in love/identify with.
I don't know how many books will result from the series; I suppose it will depend on the reader reaction to the first one. If everyone hates it, I will move on. We shall see.
First, to finish Yassa!! It is now approximately 303 pages long and contains over 65 thousand words. By the time it releases, I am guessing it will be in the rough neighborhood of 500-600 pages long. What an accomplishment! I am proud just getting to 300!! Haha.
Perhaps an excerpt tomorrow...
It is 9am and time to hit the keys.
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Haha. Now that we have that out of the way...
Today my goal is 3,000 words. I am not moving my butt until those 3,000 words are on paper. That probably means chapter 17 will roll off the presses today. Good news? With 28 chapters total, there are only 11 more to go now. We are getting close to the end. I still haven't figured out what the end will be but I'm sure my characters will tell me when we come to that point. Do I follow history or allow myself a bit of creative freedom? Who knows?
I have an idea for a young reader's series and while Yassa mellows I will be working on that. I love the idea of a female protagonist; very few authors use them though. I believe that the ones who have, have done so with great success: Piers Anthony and his Mode series, Stephen King with Carrie, and, most recently, Suzanne Collins with The Hunger Games series. If you didn't fall in love with Katniss during the HG series, you either weren't reading it, or you didn't understand it. Colene, the protagonist in PA's 4 book Mode series, that began with Virtual Mode, was a tortured young lady with major character flaws that was easy to fall in love/identify with.
I don't know how many books will result from the series; I suppose it will depend on the reader reaction to the first one. If everyone hates it, I will move on. We shall see.
First, to finish Yassa!! It is now approximately 303 pages long and contains over 65 thousand words. By the time it releases, I am guessing it will be in the rough neighborhood of 500-600 pages long. What an accomplishment! I am proud just getting to 300!! Haha.
Perhaps an excerpt tomorrow...
It is 9am and time to hit the keys.
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Monday, February 27, 2012
A New Week = A New Perspective
Hello and happy Monday!
Every great once in a while, you read something that makes you think perhaps you aren't weird after all - mine is On Writing - A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King. I have always wondered at my love of books and writing but I read that it is precisely that love that makes me a writer. You do not have to publish a book or a story to be a writer, you just have to write. I have been writing since I was 4 years old. I guess that makes me an old hand, eh?
I have also been a reader from that age. I have read more books in my lifetime so far than most people could ever dream of reading. I used to fall asleep with a book in my hand/on my head every night when I was younger. I love the written word and the only thing that tops that love is what I feel for the man in my life - the most passionate, deepest love I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing - and my kids. It can be detrimental when I lose myself in the pages of a well written story because nothing gets done if it's a good one. I know the readers out there can sympathize.
I write what I know from what I have learned through my life. In my book, Yassa, there are few details about the actual countryside of Mongolia because I have never been there and seen it with my own eyes. It is difficult to pull great description of a place if you have no firsthand knowledge of it. But, my book is not about Mongolia. My book is about a man, a woman, and a people. These are things I do know. I find my story easy to tell because I have experienced the all encompassing feelings that the man and woman have for one another. Finally, I can tell a tale of passionate love that crosses all boundaries and overcomes any obstacle thrown in its path because I have that in my life. We write what we know because we can tell the truth.
I owe every word I put on the page to the love I have had the great pleasure of experiencing through my Babydoll. He is there to encourage me, push me forward, and praise me. He has loved me through some tough things in my life and has remained by my side. He never tires of my needy ways, either. I could not do it without him.
I am off to write some more - this time my book. If you are a writer, WRITE ON! If you are a reader, may you find that new story that takes you into the pages and refuses to let you go.
Until next time,
Jo
Every great once in a while, you read something that makes you think perhaps you aren't weird after all - mine is On Writing - A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King. I have always wondered at my love of books and writing but I read that it is precisely that love that makes me a writer. You do not have to publish a book or a story to be a writer, you just have to write. I have been writing since I was 4 years old. I guess that makes me an old hand, eh?
I have also been a reader from that age. I have read more books in my lifetime so far than most people could ever dream of reading. I used to fall asleep with a book in my hand/on my head every night when I was younger. I love the written word and the only thing that tops that love is what I feel for the man in my life - the most passionate, deepest love I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing - and my kids. It can be detrimental when I lose myself in the pages of a well written story because nothing gets done if it's a good one. I know the readers out there can sympathize.
I write what I know from what I have learned through my life. In my book, Yassa, there are few details about the actual countryside of Mongolia because I have never been there and seen it with my own eyes. It is difficult to pull great description of a place if you have no firsthand knowledge of it. But, my book is not about Mongolia. My book is about a man, a woman, and a people. These are things I do know. I find my story easy to tell because I have experienced the all encompassing feelings that the man and woman have for one another. Finally, I can tell a tale of passionate love that crosses all boundaries and overcomes any obstacle thrown in its path because I have that in my life. We write what we know because we can tell the truth.
I owe every word I put on the page to the love I have had the great pleasure of experiencing through my Babydoll. He is there to encourage me, push me forward, and praise me. He has loved me through some tough things in my life and has remained by my side. He never tires of my needy ways, either. I could not do it without him.
I am off to write some more - this time my book. If you are a writer, WRITE ON! If you are a reader, may you find that new story that takes you into the pages and refuses to let you go.
Until next time,
Jo
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Motivation
For all you writers out there, what is your motivation for writing a book? Is it fame? fortune? the need to tell your story? the need to tell someone else's story? I am curious what makes you all tick.
For me, it is the telling of a story that may have happened inside a story we all know. Everyone knows that Genghis Khan took over most of Eurasia and everyone knows he had a wife, a daughter, and four sons. Everyone knows that Jamuka was his best friend until something happened that made him leave Genghis and begin to conquer on his own in direct competition of his friend. My brain starts ticking when I hear stories like that. I want to know why they had a falling out of that magnitude. Don't you?
Over the span of my life, when I have heard stories other people tell, I have always filled in the gaps with tales of knights, dragons, love, and betrayal. I used to sit in the mall and write people a new story in my head. I have gone through many learning processes in my life to learn other skills because writing was never deemed useful; like reading. My father used to say, "Put down that book and do something with yourself. You are wasting your time on nonsense." Reading and writing were considered bad form and he had the idea that reading the encyclopedia was the only way to learn.
B.S.
Things I have learned from books:
1. How to be a better person
2. How to cook things I could never have done without the instruction
3. Historical facts
4. Human interaction
5. How other people tick
6. How to be comfortable in my own skin
7. Other people have it worse sometimes
8. How to be patient and understanding
9. How to forgive and overlook
10. How to use my imagination to feel, be, and see what the characters feel, are, and see
and so much more!
I would like to send a huge shout out to the following authors as a thank you for taking the time to sit down and tell me a story:
J.K. Rowling (violence is not always necessary)
Stephanie Meyer (true love is all encompassing and can survive anything)
C.S. Lewis (be good down inside)
J.R.R. Tolkien (your friends that are true will help you through anything)
Piers Anthony (being different is okay)
Anne Rice (be comfortable with yourself)
Alice Borchardt (history can be interesting)
Christoper Paolini (always believe the impossible)
Robin Cook (hospitals are crooked)
Fern Michaels (women are strong)
Suzanne Collins (fight like every day is your last because it could very well be)
Stephen King (reality in writing can make you feel)
The Brothers Grimm (fairytales give hope and a moral lesson)
Shakespeare (it is not the language but how you use it)
Every author that has ever spent their time writing a story (perseverance pays off)
Well, that's it for today folks, off to write some more!! I hope this post got you thinking!
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
For me, it is the telling of a story that may have happened inside a story we all know. Everyone knows that Genghis Khan took over most of Eurasia and everyone knows he had a wife, a daughter, and four sons. Everyone knows that Jamuka was his best friend until something happened that made him leave Genghis and begin to conquer on his own in direct competition of his friend. My brain starts ticking when I hear stories like that. I want to know why they had a falling out of that magnitude. Don't you?
Over the span of my life, when I have heard stories other people tell, I have always filled in the gaps with tales of knights, dragons, love, and betrayal. I used to sit in the mall and write people a new story in my head. I have gone through many learning processes in my life to learn other skills because writing was never deemed useful; like reading. My father used to say, "Put down that book and do something with yourself. You are wasting your time on nonsense." Reading and writing were considered bad form and he had the idea that reading the encyclopedia was the only way to learn.
B.S.
Things I have learned from books:
1. How to be a better person
2. How to cook things I could never have done without the instruction
3. Historical facts
4. Human interaction
5. How other people tick
6. How to be comfortable in my own skin
7. Other people have it worse sometimes
8. How to be patient and understanding
9. How to forgive and overlook
10. How to use my imagination to feel, be, and see what the characters feel, are, and see
and so much more!
I would like to send a huge shout out to the following authors as a thank you for taking the time to sit down and tell me a story:
J.K. Rowling (violence is not always necessary)
Stephanie Meyer (true love is all encompassing and can survive anything)
C.S. Lewis (be good down inside)
J.R.R. Tolkien (your friends that are true will help you through anything)
Piers Anthony (being different is okay)
Anne Rice (be comfortable with yourself)
Alice Borchardt (history can be interesting)
Christoper Paolini (always believe the impossible)
Robin Cook (hospitals are crooked)
Fern Michaels (women are strong)
Suzanne Collins (fight like every day is your last because it could very well be)
Stephen King (reality in writing can make you feel)
The Brothers Grimm (fairytales give hope and a moral lesson)
Shakespeare (it is not the language but how you use it)
Every author that has ever spent their time writing a story (perseverance pays off)
Well, that's it for today folks, off to write some more!! I hope this post got you thinking!
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Book Festivals are Amazing
Well, Savannah was beautiful but the best part about it was the person I was with. I don't think I would have enjoyed my time in that city nearly as much without him by my side. It is rare to find someone who enjoys the same things you do but, once in your life, you will meet someone with whom you can enjoy all of the things that you both love and even be introduced to some new things you never knew you loved via the association. IF you ever do, you should hold on with both hands like your life depends on it. If you find one and lose them and then find another, you should count yourself VERY lucky.
On to the events: We went to an amazing restaurant, took a walking tour of Savannah architecture (amazing), went to St. John's church (he is catholic so this is a HUGE deal for him), listened to Lulu Powers speak about her book From Food to Flowers (I am one of those people that loves cookbooks), and listened to some wonderful live music while holding hands and canoodling. I have never enjoyed myself more.
While I didn't get to meet Mr. Stephen King (the event was sold out), Ms. Lulu was interesting and I got a look into the success story of a chef who published a book. She was very forward about not being a writer and I began to wonder how many passions you could put into a book. I have discovered there are many:
1. Poetry
2. Photography
3. Cooking
4. Storytelling
5. Business
6. Art
7. Travel
8. Nonsense
9. Love
10. Despair
11. Poverty
12. Historical Events
13. Self
and so many more! Too many to list! I realized that, no matter what your passion is, there is a book in you somewhere. You just have to find your genre and make it happen.
I have had so many stories in me my whole life, I have always written. While art, photography, and cooking ARE passions, writing fiction is what I was born to do. I think good writers can be trained but I think GREAT writers are BORN and just have to take the time to master their craft.
I am off to continue the story that my heart wants to tell. I cannot help but model Temujin after my boyfriend and the love he has for Borte is the love I hope he has for me; it IS the love I have for him and it drives much of my tale.
I hope you are all blessed as I have been but I don't find it likely. What I have found is rare, beautiful, and made of the stuff you usually only read about...
Until next time, WRITE ON!!!
Jo
On to the events: We went to an amazing restaurant, took a walking tour of Savannah architecture (amazing), went to St. John's church (he is catholic so this is a HUGE deal for him), listened to Lulu Powers speak about her book From Food to Flowers (I am one of those people that loves cookbooks), and listened to some wonderful live music while holding hands and canoodling. I have never enjoyed myself more.
While I didn't get to meet Mr. Stephen King (the event was sold out), Ms. Lulu was interesting and I got a look into the success story of a chef who published a book. She was very forward about not being a writer and I began to wonder how many passions you could put into a book. I have discovered there are many:
1. Poetry
2. Photography
3. Cooking
4. Storytelling
5. Business
6. Art
7. Travel
8. Nonsense
9. Love
10. Despair
11. Poverty
12. Historical Events
13. Self
and so many more! Too many to list! I realized that, no matter what your passion is, there is a book in you somewhere. You just have to find your genre and make it happen.
I have had so many stories in me my whole life, I have always written. While art, photography, and cooking ARE passions, writing fiction is what I was born to do. I think good writers can be trained but I think GREAT writers are BORN and just have to take the time to master their craft.
I am off to continue the story that my heart wants to tell. I cannot help but model Temujin after my boyfriend and the love he has for Borte is the love I hope he has for me; it IS the love I have for him and it drives much of my tale.
I hope you are all blessed as I have been but I don't find it likely. What I have found is rare, beautiful, and made of the stuff you usually only read about...
Until next time, WRITE ON!!!
Jo
Friday, February 17, 2012
Weekend!!
I shipped my chapters off to my focus group this morning and am putting the first 6 chapters of edits into my manuscript before I reprint so I can share my story with someone near and dear to my heart this weekend. It makes me a bit nervous because, while I can read it and let my focus group read it and not take it personally, this is a lot more personal.
Questions to the writers out there: When you share your draft with a random person, do you take their feedback personally or do you just accept it for what it is? Is it different when you share it with someone you love?
Just stuff in my head right now.
I gotta go pack!! SO excited right now! I can think of NO better way to spend my weekend than spending time with my Babydoll in a city that is celebrating books.
Another quick question: Does ink printed on paper mean anything to anyone any more? Or are we so consumed by technology that everything now must be digital or no one will bother with it?
Thought: When that EMP destroys all of the electronics that we depend on so much, at least I'll still have my paper books...
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Questions to the writers out there: When you share your draft with a random person, do you take their feedback personally or do you just accept it for what it is? Is it different when you share it with someone you love?
Just stuff in my head right now.
I gotta go pack!! SO excited right now! I can think of NO better way to spend my weekend than spending time with my Babydoll in a city that is celebrating books.
Another quick question: Does ink printed on paper mean anything to anyone any more? Or are we so consumed by technology that everything now must be digital or no one will bother with it?
Thought: When that EMP destroys all of the electronics that we depend on so much, at least I'll still have my paper books...
Until next time, WRITE ON!!
Jo
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Loss
We all know how it feels to lose something we truly love. Here it is in short story form:
Ginger met the man of her dreams and fell head-over-heels in love with him. She had been in love before, but it was never quite like this and, over time, that love didn't fade but grew stronger until her very life force was connected to it. Every waking moment, she felt like she could fly because of this wonderful man who had somehow managed to steal every ounce of her heart; which she thought she had protected so well.
Through her life, Ginger had never been privy to caring on the level that she believed this man cared for her and it excited her, broke down her walls like they were made of butter, and made her feel she was worth something. She decided that she would move mountains for this man if he asked her to because her goal was to make him as happy as he had made her. Every day, she worked toward that goal. Some days were easier than others because of the dynamics of the relationship but she never gave up and pledged that she would love him through whatever life threw their way.
Then, one day, he said that he could no longer struggle with her and that she should move on and find someone else. Her heart stopped beating in that moment and tears filled her eyes as pain shot through her body from her chest outward. She denied it at first, thinking that he couldn't possibly mean what he was saying; she thought the strength of her love would be enough to carry them through a hurricane. Yes, she had done some things she wasn't proud of but thought that because she had never betrayed him, it wouldn't matter after a time. She was wrong. They did matter.
When the realization that he was gone overtook her, the pain in her entire body was one that was so intense, so completely overwhelming, that she screamed. It was the only way she knew to keep from falling down and dying in that moment. She began to shiver, though it was not cold in the room. Tremors wracked her body and she lay down on the floor, wept, and allowed herself to shake with them uncontrollably. When she had cried all that she could, she knew not what to do so she just laid on the floor and stared into space. She felt like she had no heart, no soul, and no way to think clearly; she may not ever again. Those things had been ripped from her body and shredded.
She began to question herself and wonder if she didn't do enough for him, if she wasn't good enough for him, and if he ever really cared in the first place. Surely he did, she wasn't that stupid... or was she? Why did she allow this man so close to her heart? Why did she give him her total trust and not question his motives? After all, he hadn't given her his. But she did and she was glad she did because she knew that if she hadn't, she wouldn't really have been trying; but she did try. She put every ounce of herself into him and hoped it would be enough. As she lay shivering on the floor and crying until her eyes swelled shut and she could not rise, she knew that she wasn't the one he wanted and the realization made her want to die.
Hours later, when Ginger finally managed to crawl to her bed and slide under the covers that smelled just like him, she passed out from the grief of her loss. Her body simply couldn't take it and her brain could not process that she would never again feel the warmth of his hand, the touch of his lips, or the safety of his arms. She had no dreams that she could remember but woke up with a hole where her heart used to be and no feeling in any part of her body. She remembered when she bounced out of bed on wings of love - was that just yesterday? - and lay for a time crying again for her loss. She knew that she had disappointed him and wished she was a better person, a better lover, and a better friend when he needed it.
She remembered looking into his eyes and thinking she could see his soul, feeling his arms around her when she was upset or scared, and not being able to picture her life without him in it. Her future was suddenly blank and she felt the loss that much more intensely. She knew she would never leave the house again because if she ever saw him on the street or with someone else, she would die a thousand deaths and feel this pain all over again. She knew that seeing him happy with someone else, when she had tried so hard and failed, would make her feel like dirt. She knew that she would not be able to handle it and knew that she would do whatever she had to in order to circumvent that encounter. If that meant never seeing the light of day again, she knew she would endure it because the alternative was too horrifying to think about.
Her heart was broken and she knew she would never love like that again, just as she had never loved like that before. He was her once-in-a-lifetime and, in her heart, was irreplaceable. She knew she had loved ones that cared for her and would always be there but she was irrevocably changed by the event and would never be the same without him. Cold and dead and hating life, she had no choice but to rise and tend to her appointments; her heart heavy, her eyes wet, and her hands shaking.
They say time heals all wounds and she prays that it's true because she knows she cannot live long with this pain; this excruciating, all encompassing pain. She decides that she will never love again because as long as her heart is closed forevermore, no one can rip it out and re-open the hole that will be in her chest for the rest of her life.
~ The End
Above is what I deem to be true love and true loss. Have you ever felt that way?
I managed almost six thousand words yesterday and they flowed well. Chapter 17 is underway.
I hope you all connected in some way with the story above because, if you did, you have known what it is like to really love someone. Even through the pain of your loss, you love them. You will always have a giant place in your heart that only they touched and, even though it hurts like hell and is forever empty when they leave, you at least knew what it was like to see the sunrise in someone's face and feel the warmth when you looked into their eyes.
Until next time, write on!
Jo
Ginger met the man of her dreams and fell head-over-heels in love with him. She had been in love before, but it was never quite like this and, over time, that love didn't fade but grew stronger until her very life force was connected to it. Every waking moment, she felt like she could fly because of this wonderful man who had somehow managed to steal every ounce of her heart; which she thought she had protected so well.
Through her life, Ginger had never been privy to caring on the level that she believed this man cared for her and it excited her, broke down her walls like they were made of butter, and made her feel she was worth something. She decided that she would move mountains for this man if he asked her to because her goal was to make him as happy as he had made her. Every day, she worked toward that goal. Some days were easier than others because of the dynamics of the relationship but she never gave up and pledged that she would love him through whatever life threw their way.
Then, one day, he said that he could no longer struggle with her and that she should move on and find someone else. Her heart stopped beating in that moment and tears filled her eyes as pain shot through her body from her chest outward. She denied it at first, thinking that he couldn't possibly mean what he was saying; she thought the strength of her love would be enough to carry them through a hurricane. Yes, she had done some things she wasn't proud of but thought that because she had never betrayed him, it wouldn't matter after a time. She was wrong. They did matter.
When the realization that he was gone overtook her, the pain in her entire body was one that was so intense, so completely overwhelming, that she screamed. It was the only way she knew to keep from falling down and dying in that moment. She began to shiver, though it was not cold in the room. Tremors wracked her body and she lay down on the floor, wept, and allowed herself to shake with them uncontrollably. When she had cried all that she could, she knew not what to do so she just laid on the floor and stared into space. She felt like she had no heart, no soul, and no way to think clearly; she may not ever again. Those things had been ripped from her body and shredded.
She began to question herself and wonder if she didn't do enough for him, if she wasn't good enough for him, and if he ever really cared in the first place. Surely he did, she wasn't that stupid... or was she? Why did she allow this man so close to her heart? Why did she give him her total trust and not question his motives? After all, he hadn't given her his. But she did and she was glad she did because she knew that if she hadn't, she wouldn't really have been trying; but she did try. She put every ounce of herself into him and hoped it would be enough. As she lay shivering on the floor and crying until her eyes swelled shut and she could not rise, she knew that she wasn't the one he wanted and the realization made her want to die.
Hours later, when Ginger finally managed to crawl to her bed and slide under the covers that smelled just like him, she passed out from the grief of her loss. Her body simply couldn't take it and her brain could not process that she would never again feel the warmth of his hand, the touch of his lips, or the safety of his arms. She had no dreams that she could remember but woke up with a hole where her heart used to be and no feeling in any part of her body. She remembered when she bounced out of bed on wings of love - was that just yesterday? - and lay for a time crying again for her loss. She knew that she had disappointed him and wished she was a better person, a better lover, and a better friend when he needed it.
She remembered looking into his eyes and thinking she could see his soul, feeling his arms around her when she was upset or scared, and not being able to picture her life without him in it. Her future was suddenly blank and she felt the loss that much more intensely. She knew she would never leave the house again because if she ever saw him on the street or with someone else, she would die a thousand deaths and feel this pain all over again. She knew that seeing him happy with someone else, when she had tried so hard and failed, would make her feel like dirt. She knew that she would not be able to handle it and knew that she would do whatever she had to in order to circumvent that encounter. If that meant never seeing the light of day again, she knew she would endure it because the alternative was too horrifying to think about.
Her heart was broken and she knew she would never love like that again, just as she had never loved like that before. He was her once-in-a-lifetime and, in her heart, was irreplaceable. She knew she had loved ones that cared for her and would always be there but she was irrevocably changed by the event and would never be the same without him. Cold and dead and hating life, she had no choice but to rise and tend to her appointments; her heart heavy, her eyes wet, and her hands shaking.
They say time heals all wounds and she prays that it's true because she knows she cannot live long with this pain; this excruciating, all encompassing pain. She decides that she will never love again because as long as her heart is closed forevermore, no one can rip it out and re-open the hole that will be in her chest for the rest of her life.
~ The End
Above is what I deem to be true love and true loss. Have you ever felt that way?
I managed almost six thousand words yesterday and they flowed well. Chapter 17 is underway.
I hope you all connected in some way with the story above because, if you did, you have known what it is like to really love someone. Even through the pain of your loss, you love them. You will always have a giant place in your heart that only they touched and, even though it hurts like hell and is forever empty when they leave, you at least knew what it was like to see the sunrise in someone's face and feel the warmth when you looked into their eyes.
Until next time, write on!
Jo
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