What can I say?
- Life got in the way
- I messed up the work-life balance
- Work ate me up and spat out the pieces
- I became incredibly lazy
- I became disillusioned
- I assumed my mantle as queen of procrastination
- Everybody wanted a little piece of me and then there was nothing left
- Plottdog ate my homework
Pretty much all of the above, and then some.
So in the rulebook of ‘How Not to Blog 101 ‘ and ‘1000 Writer’s Mistakes You Can Make While Sitting on Your Writer’s Butt Feeling Sorry For Yourself,’ I rather think I hit the motherlode.
So without further preamble, let’s just say, I’m back, I’m trying and I’m writing – so far anyway – and most of all apologies to all my readers, I will try harder in 2014, I promise. In honour of that promise and to celebrate this bright shiny new year, Travelling Hopefully has a new look – a little less grungy – I hope you’ll like it.
I’m pleased to say that ‘What We Didn’t Say‘ is still selling, quite well actually and I have set my deadline to get the Kindle and eBook versions out very soon. I’ve also had a couple of weeks in the Ether Books Paid Downloads Top 10 with Sirius Rising which was a bit of a boost to end 2013 on.
I have a collection of ideas about what comes next but at this stage all that’s all it is and as one of my old teachers used to say to me, quite often, with one of those slow head-shakes that fell somewhere between exasperation and despair, ‘… this needs more work.’ And so it does.
I’ve finally gone over to the dark side and acquired a MacBook (I know – about time) and I am now truly connected via all things Apple – not without some level of frustration and with a cheat-sheet in hand on keyboard shortcuts.
I have been very much inspired by Jo Bell at 52 Poetry and although I would never class myself as a poet by any stretch of the imagination, this year I plan to learn more and try to take small steps towards that goal. Also in the spirit of all things New Yearish I’m working on the Mindful Writing Challenge and 31 Days of Waking Up with the lovely Satya and Kaspalita over at Writing our Way Home.
So for your amusement here’s my first Small Stone – there may be others which find their way here but I had to start with a canine theme in honour of Plottdog who is currently sleeping off his morning travails and not a little Christmas turkey too.
So although perhaps not a small stone in the conventional sense, this is what grew out of one:
Bright-eyed, four-footed sleuth,
glossy head, the colour of a November night
inclines itself towards the ground,
oblivious to the rain
which stings my face in spiteful icy gouts.
Intent only on discovery,
a busy nose quivers
diligent in its dogged pursuit of clues,
minutely examining each blade of grass
until satisfied of its facts and moves on,
searching for further evidence
at the base of a winter-bare tree,
where twisted grey limbs now clothed
in a widow’s weeds,
a filigree of dull leeward lichen,
rise skyward to mourn in wind-borne moans
the loss of its crown swept away in a blaze of autumnal glory.
So here amidst earthy odour, where fingers of decay clutch
and return life to its source,
the careful consideration continues:
sniff—assess; sniff—inhale, sniff and quickly taste the air
with a dart and flick of a gammon-pink tongue.
Finding nothing, this four-footed Sherlock lifts his rain-slicked, muddy snout
and regards me with solemn and baleful eyes,
turns, lifts a leg and pees unceremoniously,
steam rising in the morning murkiness.
And so with an impatient and decisive kick,
leaf litter launches skyward and as
thousands of years of instinct
drive this detective to cover his tracks,
our morning quest continues.