In which I wake up.

At 3 am this morning, I woke up and stared at the blank canvas of my bedroom ceiling. An allegorical reflection of my life. In a week and a half, I turn 34. Life has passed in the blink of an eye. There is a feeling that all this time I have just been staring out the windows, watching the world pass by. To date, I have one short story published that is in need of a 2nd edition, 17 short stories that are in an array of discord, one novel poorly half written, and the second novel is a silent film that continually plays in my head and has yet to be scripted. All the adventures that I long to take remain as scribbled words on a bucket list. I’ve only cross off 6 out of 297.

In the wee hours of this morning, something inside snapped awake. A tiny voice whispered in my head, In life there are no dress rehearsals. This morning, I realized that the state of hibernation that I have been suffering for the past two years was finally over.

This very moment, the one we are existing in now, is the only one that we tangibly have. We can plan for the next moment to come, hoping that it appears. Yet, it’s never guaranteed. Take a breath. Exhale. In the next breath, one of us could be dead. A life instantly terminated. We are only promised the moment we hold right now. And if we allow this moment to pass unfulfilled, we may not get the chance at another.

Since 2015, I have been dreaming of what I want to do, but lacked the propulsion and motivation to achieve those dreams. An era of dormancy was maintained until I took a trip to the Baltic states last summer. While wandering the remnants of a Cold Ware era prison in Tallinn, a spark of inspiration involuntary began a transformation within the core of my soul. The spark was so tiny that I barely felt the burn, but there was a slight movement on my part to extinguish the infinitesimal flame as the fear of failing crept into my heart. However, the nostalgic warmth of my former self reflecting in that flame was captivating. The flame was allowed to burn. It took several additional months before the flame was fed and ignited into a wildfire.

The appeal to become physically stronger, to eat healthier, to travel more, and to enjoy life intensified in January.  Suddenly, I found myself exercising everyday, gorging on vegetables and fruit, signing up to run a 5K & 10K race in April, organizing an excursion to New Mexico for May, and eyeing up a September 125-mile bike ride that begins in Quarryville, Pennsylvania and ends in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware (those closest to me know of the ‘saudade‘ of the ride’s finish line location). And, I decided to take the final step in committing to train for a triathlon – today I bought swimming gear and made a pact to swim laps 2-3 times a week… at 5 am…

Oh, and the words! The words! At moment of my full awakening this morning, when the inferno of inspiration was set fully ablaze in my soul, I realized that the words were back. My muse rose out of the embers and all the motivation that I had for creative writing once again burned brightly. The new novel that had been brewing as a silent film in my sub-concise showed its purpose. Today, there is direction. During breakfast, the plot was feverishly started. Then an inkling began that my blog was in dire need of revitalization.  And so, here I am.

As insane as all of this sounds, it is like the ‘light switch’ on a transformation to become my true self finally flipped ‘on’. The most amazing part of this awakening is that a change elicited in my writing style and perception.

Dark fiction is a ‘genre’ that I’ll continue to enjoy.  Fear, which is evoked in characters who are placed in harrowing situations, is quite captivating as it is an emotion that reveals a character’s true nature. Yet, it is in that moment when truth is exposed by fear that I now want to leverage as a seed for strength and purpose, as opposed using fear as a tactic to break and destroy characters with a purpose to deteriorate their will to live.  I may still base a few short stories off this trope; however, going forward, I want to convey that one’s strength and purpose are revealed when one has lost all hope. And a will to survive overcomes fear.

These past two years have changed me. For a lack of better words, the time was a cataclysmic whirlwind. Personal negative situations aside, I’ve been fortunate enough to be granted with many opportunities to travel the world. I’ve seen wondrous sites, met the most soulful people, and sampled delectable cuisine. In these experiences I found renewed creativity and inspiration to thrive.

Life’s an adventure, and our next moments stand on precipice of excitement and wonderment! Reach out, take hold, and never let go.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

This picture was captured whilst visiting one of my dearest friends, Michelle Muller, in Tallinn, Estonia. She knew Patarei Prison would captivate me. She wasn’t wrong. This mural, which was hand painted outside of the ‘hanging room’, triggered the start of my transformation. The mural directed me to continue the journey of wandering and wondering. (c) Amanda Headlee 2016

 

Definition of ‘saudade’:

Saudade is ‘the sorrow of not having enjoyed that which was there to be enjoyed; it is the vehement but resigned desire to enjoy a thing we were deeply attached to; and also the yearning to see, or be in the company of, someone from whom we have reluctantly been parted.

(Quoted in Dalila L. Pereira da Costa & Pinharanda Gomes, Introdução à Saudade: Antologia Teórica e Aproximação Crítica (Porto, Lello & Irmão, 1976), p. 10.)

5 Steps to Internet (and IRL) Safety and Privacy for Writers

I’ve been a little MIA again and I am sorry for that. This summer has been interesting to say the least. This November I plan on getting back to a regular blogging (and writing) schedule, so please stay tuned.

In the meantime, I am reblogging a post from Carly Watters. In this age where the line between reality and digital is often blurred, one has to be alert and aware when networking online. These are good tips to keep in mind for your privacy while networking with social media.

Carly Watters, Literary Agent Blog

There are many ways to think about internet safety, but with the fall publishing season book launches coming up I wanted to take the time to share my thoughts about staying safe when you’re used to interacting on the web. I consider safety physical or intellectual.

I definitely think everyone clearly knows how dangerous the web can be, but sometimes we all think we’re immune to it and take risks when we don’t know we’re doing so. It’s the thing that happens to *someone else* not us.

5 Steps to Internet (and IRL) Safety and Privacy for Writers:

Tweet or post when you’re leaving somewhere, not when you’re getting there. DM the people you’re meeting up with at the book launch instead of broadcasting it to the world. Instead of tweeting on the way to an event, why not tweet after you’ve gathered your thoughts and maybe taken a picture or…

View original post 527 more words

What is your #cherished object?

Last month, the #CHERISHED blogfest was born. This weekend, bloggers across the world are invited to share stories about one little item that they possess which brings them joy. My little cherished item is a turquoise charm that I bought one year while traveling extensively all over the US. During my travels, I became worn out and sick. A dear friend of mine, out of deep concern, suggested I carry a piece of turquoise while traveling. She, being one who believes that nature provides all we need to heal, indicated that the stone’s properties are for protection, healing, and grounding. All aspects that I needed in my life at the time.

IMG_2296

Not owning any turquoise of my own, I stumbled across a little gem at the Baltimore airport during a long and unexpected layover. I was exhausted, cranky, and wanted nothing more than to just curl up in my own bed. As a distraction from my exhaustion, I decided to kill time by walking through one of those fancy jewelry stores that airports use to entice one to spend money… because one has nothing better to do while waiting for their connecting flight. Upon entering the store, I was immediately drawn to a little blue stone that seemed to emanate some kind of energy. A beacon that instantly drew me in.

I am usually not one to spend money on jewelry, but there was something about the blue of the turquoise that captivated me. Something inside my head said to splurge, and so I did.

As much as this necklace is a symbol of protection and health, as my dear friend Susan says it is intended to do, the stone actually means something more. I obtained this piece of turquoise in the midst of an eventful year traversing the US. And as such, this charm serves as a reminder. A reminder that there is a huge world out there, and I have only seen 15% of it. A reminder that I need to stop letting time pass by and achieve those dreams that I aspire to reach: Travel, publication, enjoying life to its fullest.

Everytime I look at this little blue charm I see our world, Earth, the planet that I yearn to explore and to write about.

cherished-blogfest-badge

Are you taking part in the Cherished Blogfest? If you are, this weekend (24-26 July) please post about your cherished object, and visit others on this LINKY LIST. Share on all social media with the hashtag  #CHERISHED. If you haven’t signed up yet, you still can. The linky list is open for two more days. What is an object you cherish? What sort of memories does it bring back? What does the object mean to you? Write about your #CHERISHED object in 500 words or less!

You Might Be a Writer If…

Great inspiration from the amazing Kristen Lamb. As a writer, I can relate to pretty much this entire post. How many of these “You might be a writer if…” traits apply to you?

Kristen Lamb's Blog

Screen Shot 2015-06-05 at 1.30.15 PM

A lot of “stuff” has been going on in my life lately. Hard stuff. Heavy stuff. The kind of stuff that just makes me want to write massacre scenes….except I am so brain dead I had to google how to spell “massacre.”

Masicker? Missucker?

WHAT AM I DOING???? *breaks down sobbing*

I am supposed to be an adult an expert okay, maybe functionally literate. Fine, I give up! I have nothing left to saaaaayyyyyy. I am all out of woooords *builds pillow fort*.

I figured it’s time for a bit of levity. Heck, I need a good laugh. How about you guys?

We writers are different *eye twitches* for sure, but the world would be SO boring without us. Am I the only person who watches Discovery ID and critiques the killers?

You are putting the body THERE? Do you just WANT to go to prison? Why did you STAB…

View original post 1,289 more words

Uncovering Literary Obessions

I never obsess over anything. Oh, um, I should probably rephrase that. My friends are rolling their eyes. OCD is something that I slightly suffer from. Some days it really causes havoc in my life. But this isn’t a post about my neurosis in making sure that when locking a door I check it three times. No, this is a post about an obsessions of things.

A minimalistic life is one that appeals to me. I can happily live the remainder of my life with what I have at this very moment in my apartment. I don’t have a lot and I don’t need a lot. So imagine my surprise that during my recent move, I uncovered something absolutely horrific about myself.

A few weeks ago, I moved into a new place. All boxes were packed by yours truly and about 85% of everything was carried with my very own hands (I am only so proud to state this because I spent the following week in utter pain). The first things to transition was kitchen stuff, then clothes, then cycling gear, and then random stuff from the basement.  At this point everything was gone but the furniture and 14 boxes. When I packed these specific boxes, I did not think there was really that many of them. It was just 14 boxes. And they only contained my most prized possessions, so this amount was not bad. However, when I went to lift the lightest box, and nearly snapped my back, it was then I realized I had a sickness–a secret obsession.

I am fatefully addicted to books. No! Cursed to be fatefully addicted to books.

They draw me in with their eye catching covers, earthy paper smell, and delicately inked pages. When I see a book, it whispers “pick me up… take me home”. There has never been a time when I’ve walked into a bookstore and walked out empty handed. It is a rare trip when only one book is purchased.

What a sickness. A heavy sickness (but I can’t give it up–I won’t give it up).

So to move these boxes, I had to break the 14 big boxes down into 20 smaller boxes, which I could still move on my own (but they were still dreadfully heavy).

I went through hell for my books and I would gladly do it again. I know I will do it again because I am a habitual mover. The only bad thing is that with each move, my obsession only hurts me more. The next move will be worse because there will be even more papery tomes to schlep to a new abode.

And before a single one of you asks–no, I will not switch fully to digital. Even if I move halfway across the world, my precious books will be at my side. There is something magical about cracking open the cover and smelling the pages. Inhaling the literature with your nose as well as your eyes. It’s addicting.

Now that I have admitted my obsession, there are four facts you should know:

  1. Don’t lend me a book. If I like it, you won’t get it back. If I hate it, I will probably still keep it and pawn it for a new book that I like.

  2. Don’t ever touch my books. Ever. Never Ever. I will break your hands and steal your fingernails.

  3. I have actually thrown away clothes on a trip to fit several newly purchased books into my carryon luggage.

  4. I have 4 boxes of books left to unpack and need to buy another bookshelf. Pictures of ‘Shrine 3’ are forthcoming.

 

IMG_2033

Shrine 1 – An ode to horror and comics (and The Walking Dead)

IMG_2032

Shrine 2 – My life long collection of literature