I’m Your Man

 

I’m Your Man

There is a truth in fiction that can never be found in most non-fiction save those factual by measure or geography. As I write that sentence I wonder how many exceptions may exist, but generally. In my mind anything biographical or autobio is suspect.

Why? Perception. To perceive something, even that experienced by self, is flavored by condition, circumstance, past, belief, and personal understanding.

Fiction has always been my preference but the wisdom of age encourages me to widen my knowledge base. Seek new things, learn new things, do new things. My friend Joss Burnel who is one Crowing Crone Woman of Wisdom leads by example in stepping out of one’s comfort zone.* I can’t link for some reason so Joss can be found at crowingcrone.com.* I am not sure there is much bravery or adventure in broadening one’s reading preference as she now travels the world having really stepped out, but it is a start.

My own perception of age is changing from a youthful belief that old age is a time to take it easy, a well-earned rest, to one that continuing to change and learn and work is vital. To stop learning, to stop changing is to stop living and all of a sudden having reached the sixth decade and soon to see it in the rear view mirror of life, the ability to learn seems crucial. Now when I check out of the library every few days I include at least one non-fiction in my haul. Included are several bios and autobios as well as books on religion, politics, sciences, well, almost anything that catches my attention. Almost all autobiographies are difficult reads, presented in very two dimensional slices with gaping holes big enough to qualify for the Swiss cheese designation. I have read biographies that seemed to have way too much of the author’s persona imbedded too deep to recognize resulting in a ‘barely there’ subject leaving me feeling too much has been glossed over. How much do we really want to share about our lives anyway? How much should we share?

I have made several starts at a family history, something I think my children might value. Part way through it occurred to me to question exactly how much information should I be passing on? We are all entitled to privacy I think and I believe our paths are very private. We all make mistakes and that is how we grow and learn. Do we need to hang out all the dirty laundry?

Celebrities and the over exposure of their lives make for great entertainment, at least as far as the public is concerned. God knows every magazine and entertainment show knows this and they reap mega bucks in the revelations. Mind you some so called stars beg for the exposure and then whine when lines are crossed.

The thing is, people tend to believe what they read. Good fiction makes you feel the possibility. Do you think that is true? I mean look at those who so wanted to believe Dan Brown’s story The Da Vinci Code that they now believe. Of course that is why I love fiction – I, you, any of us, can make it real thanks to the wonder of imagination. The greatest skill, the greatest gift in any work of fiction is to make it real.

Is there any truth at all in biographical non-fiction? Probably about as much as there is real milk in some so called dairy products? Does it matter? Perhaps not. One recent book of biography was a welcome refreshing exception to my perceptive bias. And a bias it must surely be since I have not read every bio ever printed so can only judge on very limited experience.

I’M YOUR MAN: The Life of Leonard Cohen

Sylvie Simmons was a new author to me and of course the initial draw to the book was the subject, Leonard Cohen, someone to whom I would declare complete and total admiration. Why? I guess because he did it his way with no apology. Did he do it right with no regret? Of course not. Are there any of us who have no regret? I’d sure like to hear about it if he/she is out there. Without dissecting the content I would just say it is a good read that felt more honest than most.

Why do you read Fiction?

What do you think about when you pick up a story?  I hesitate to say ‘pick up a book’ because stories are accessed in many ways today.  The most obvious answer is entertainment, a peek at, and an opportunity to enter someone else’s world for a while. To become a part of another experience and by the time the last page is perused a sigh perhaps of satisfaction, or frustration, or contemplation.

Most of us have favorite authors we depend on, knowing what we will get, not necessarily in the events contained within, but a guarantee of familiarity.  What I like to think of as the Comfort Food of literature.  Some of you follow the top sellers keeping abreast of what’s in, providing opportunity for new experiences and thoughts.  I make it a point during my weekly library trips to include new authors, at least to me, and when a book is recommended by a friend, I read it.  I am not much for romantic themed or erotic stories and therefore have never read Fifty Shades of anything, the series that brought shades of education and blushes to the cheeks of females who otherwise may never have admitted publicly taking delight in sexual adventures.  When pressed by many acquaintances to at least give a read, my response has consistently been that I do erotica, I don’t read it. Ha Ha.  Whether that is true or not is not for discussion, but it was a glib enough response to satisfy and take the encouragers off on another path.

My Comfort Food Fiction list is fairly extensive and is the source for rereads as well as waiting in anticipation for the next volumes to appear.  Included are Koontz, Crichton, King, Cussler, Meyers, Rowling, Buck, and Dickens.  Of course those that have passed on can only stand as rereads and that is fine.

Comfort is hard to come by with a few authors and yet I embrace them heart and soul.  Reality in fiction can be sad, even depressing but the struggle, or rather surviving the struggle is a story worthy of notice.  I wonder in this western culture of pursuing happiness, if we have done ourselves a disservice and weakened our ability to survive by believing that happiness is indeed the gold ring of achievement and not survival itself.

Reynolds Price wrote a book published in 1998 called Roxana Slade which was referred to me by a friend.  It almost seems that this man merely channeled the voice of Roxana who at ninety odd years relates her life tale and takes you, the reader on a journey of struggle, loss, and survival.  His (the author) is so skilled that you quickly embrace Roxana and fold her being into your existence.  Whenever I put the book down for a bit, the characters and situations stayed with me, and I found myself thinking about them throughout the day until I could again curl up and turn another page.  Now that is amazing writing.

I have another favorite author that I simply cannot allot to my Comfort Food Fiction list, and that is Patricia Cornwell.  Her Scarpetta Series and characters are as familiar to me as my own family, but I seldom feel a sense of comfort.  The most recent read is ‘dust’.

Cornwell is a must for me even though I know there will be questions, anxiety, and frustration from time to time.  All of her characters are flawed and not in the cute little way popular fictional hero characters are flawed but overcome, but in a haunting kind of way that strikes me at times as too real.

As a Chief Medical Examiner Kay Scarpetta always has a mystery to solve but the story is more about the struggles and survival of our characters, the things they battle internally to still carry and on and succeed.  People get unjustly fired, are not well liked, have struggles with what they wish life was like and is not.  Justice does not always prevail.  Solving the mystery, catching the bad guy is often anticlimactic to the process, the living, the surviving.

Frankly, for me, experiencing the discomfort of some of these stories, the reality and the survival helps me keep my own reality in perspective.  There are sad, bad, unjust, horrible things in life. But there is much more to be valued.

Have you found the same thing?  What do you get out of Fiction?  Why do you read Fiction?

Discovering Aberration Part 2!*

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I am very proud to present to you, my wonderful and generous hearted readers, the second part of my guest host’s presentation about his exciting new novel.  Thank you thank you all for being so wonderful in reposting and spreading the word.

It started with a dream

Over the course of the last two and a half years I’ve been working late nights and lunch breaks on a novel entitled Discovering Aberration.

But it didn’t begin as a simple idea for a novel. It began as a dream.

In this dream I was a part of an expedition on a remote island with my cousin searching for a lost  civilization. Through the thick jungle we trekked, pressing through walls of great leaves and hanging vines. We pressed on and eventually hacked our way through the foliage. The world opened up around us, and before us was revealed a great lake; a crater with a  shimmering light submerged deep below the surface.

We rejoiced at finding the light below the water, it was the first sign of our discovery. But as we peered into the depths of the lake, our hearts sank as we saw a horrific sight. Within the lake was a massive beast, a dragon like creature which  swam about our discovery, protecting it over the centuries.

Immediately we set to work, building a device, a rocket strung to the ground with massive rubber bands. We climbed inside and the strange device shot us up into the air, and then, when we reached the point at which the rubber bands were stretched to their limit, we were hurled back down towards the lake to speed past the great and terrible beast.

It was a silly, adventurous dream. Most of it didn’t end up in the  novel other than as a little inspiration, but something about this dream stuck with me and eventually a novel only just barely related was created.

About Discovering Aberration

Discovering Aberration is a character driven steampunk adventure story taking place in  the era of budding steam and clockwork technology. The country of Victoria is in the  midst of a socio-economic divide, and in this divide, crime and villainy has festered. In this world lives our protagonists.

Freddy Fitzgerald is an esteemed adventurer/travel writer. His good friend, Thaddeus Lumpen approaches him on cold spring day with the discovery of a life time, an ancient map he’s stolen from under the nose of a notorious gangster.

Convinced this map will lead them to a long lost  civilization, they immediately build a rag tag team of explorers and archeologists and set out on a dangerous expedition. But in this world of villainy, news of the map leaks and suddenly they are up against a small army of competition.

Vengeful  archeologist, dangerous mercenaries, manipulating scarlets, and more  seek to head them off seeking the fame, the fortune  this discovery can offer them.

When they get to the island, all is not as it should be. People  are going mad, and what’s more, the island hides a deep, dark secret,  lurking in its heart.

Writing Discovering  Aberration has been perhaps the most rewarding work I’ve ever been a part of. I’m  so pleased with how it’s turned out. The novel has become so much more  than the dream ever was.

Indie Publishing

I’ve decided to publish Discovering Aberration myself, so I’ve become not only a  writer, but a publisher, an entrepreneur, a publicist and a marketer.

It’s a strange and competitive world I’ve stepped into. But unlike the  violent competition in my novel, my competition is other writers who  have proven to be some of the most helpful, supportive people in the  world.

I am taking the first step towards publishing  Discovering Aberration by launching a Kickstarter campaign. For those  of you who haven’t heard of Kickstarter, it’s a crowd-funding platform that enables artists like me to bypass  traditional corporations by seeking out funding from everyday people like  you who want to contribute and support.

For as little as $5, you can pledge your support for my novel and in return you’ll receive a professionally edited and  designed copy of the novel before it’s released to the general public. The more you can pledge, the  greater your rewards, including having a character named after you at  the $500 level, and even more in between.

If you’re interested, or want to learn more, please visit my  Kickstarter page which explains the process in detail.

But before you invest in my project, take some time to read the novel itself.  The first 28 chapters  is currently free to read on Wattpad.com.

If you enjoy reading Discovering Aberration as much as I enjoyed writing it, then please consider a small pledge, and be a very real part of this project.

Finally, I’d like to thank Chris for giving me this opportunity to share my  story and my project with you. She has been incredibly gracious and an  early supporter of mine (perhaps the earliest). And I look forward to  meeting and thanking every single one of you who choose to back my  novel.

Cheers,
S.C. Barrus

About S.C. Barrus

S.C. Barrus writes strange and thrilling literary adventures. He’s published short stories, essays and poems in print and online. Born in Canada,  S.C. Barrus grew up near Seattle in the pacific north west where he  lives to this day. He received his degree in creative writing from the  University of Washington.  You can learn more about him at his website Away and Away

Links:

Visit the Discovering Aberration Kickstarter

Read Discovering Aberration on Wattpad

The Question on at least 1280 Minds This Morning Is: Where is Miss C

Miss C as most of you know is Celi or Cecilia is a petite, tiny enough thing so you’d think the wind would knock her over, never mind those animals, who lives an exciting life on the prairies creating a self sustaining life in the most remarkable way.

We find her every morning at The Kitchen’s Garden and she always gets there first because while we mere mortals languish in our beds soaking up several hours sleep, this wee lady and already done a day’s work.

She paints the drama and comedy of her life daily and much like the readers of Charles Dickens’ Pickwick Papers series in the eighteen hundreds, we wait, breath held, fingers crossed, for news.  We cheer successes, lament losses all the while persevering and all the while giving thanks for every moment of life; the Good, the Bad… well you know what I mean.

News of what you may ask?   Is there sustaining dramatic entertainment anywhere in this world to keep folk interested in events, in lives?

You betcha!  And if Miss C’s stories sold even for a penny as Dickens’  did one hundred and fifty years ago she would no doubt have great monetary wealth, for once you find her it is pretty hard to let her go.

But this drama, this suspense can hardly be tolerated, and it began on July 1st, just a few short days ago.  The link above will take you to the start of this tale for I am overcome at the very thought of each step along the way to even try to relate to you the surprise, the angst, the trepidation, the hopes for welcome resolution.

The last word I had yesterday was from FB in which it seemed successful resolution had once more escaped.  Where or where are you Miss C?

It isn’t just me and The Cast, and 1280 others, …okay wait …maybe it is just us, but probably many more who need to know:

DID YOU MAKE THAT PLANE?  Our hearts and minds are in a suspension until we know!!

Cecilia G

When Discovering Aberration is a Good Thing!

LADIES AND GENTS: Prepare yourselves for a wonderful treat! One of my dearest and earliest bloggers I met here on WordPress in the beginning, has done all I set out to do except he actually, actually accomplished it!

He is the hardest working, most dedicated author I know of and one of my fave authors sharing that honor with Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Clive Cussler, and yes my main man Charles Dickens.

Sit back, enjoy your read, and please dearest readers, please repost!  Let’s spread the word!

SCBarrusPortraitsOriginals0050

 Creating

There is this thing out there floating around the universe hiding secretly behind every passion. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s there planting seeds and fueling flames. The Romans called it a Genius (origin of the word Genii), a spirit that would inhabit the bodies of passionate people and make them feverishly create things.

I don’t know if I was ever possessed in such a manner. All I know is my life has been driven by a singular passion since I was young. Maybe it was planted when I was very small, this urge to create things and share them with others. Maybe it didn’t take form until I was older. Whatever the case, this passion, this creative drive has fueled every major decision in my life.

Hi, my name is S.C. Barrus and I’m a writer. I remember writing my first short story back when I was still in elementary school. It was a satire about the growth and bankruptcy of Microsoft and it was all of 2 pages long. I wrote it grinning all the while, convinced that the work was genius.

I was so excited to hear what others thought, I ran to my dad and began to read the work aloud. He listened patiently. He didn’t laugh, didn’t so much as smile. As my jokes fell flat, part of me fell through a hole.

I quit reading midway through. “Maybe I should write about something else…” I said nervously.

My dad looked at me with a quizzical half smile and said, “Maybe you should.”

For some reason, I didn’t stop writing that day. And my dad has been a huge support since (didn’t want to leave him hanging there ;)

I was in highschool when I really sat down and began writing a novel. I wrote it with a deep passion convinced it was a masterpiece. It was full of teen angst and sex and drugs, all the things my adolescent mind obsessed with, and was written with a style stolen directly from Chuck Palahniuk, my teen hero.

When I finished writing, I started exploring the strange world of publishing with a fervour. I taught myself about publishers and editors and agents, about queries and rejection. The process struck me as strange then, but I accepted it because I supposed “that’s the way it is”. It felt strange that I had put in so much work and alone created something, but when the book sells I’d get 15%. But then again, what did I know?

Despite my drive, the book was never picked up, and I was left with nothing but a stack of pages littered with ink. To this day, I’m glad I littered those pages with ink, because I learned so many valuable lessons. But I’m also glad it didn’t make it, because that taught me even more.

Despite the outcome, my creative writing teacher got behind me, and my school counselor began giving me gifts; books of poetry, pamphlets to writing contests, and an award for literary excellence. It might have been obvious, but I didn’t recognize it at that time. There were people guiding me from the beginning, people who believed in me.

Ira Glass once said that artists start creating art not because they are talented, but because they have good taste. It takes years before an artists work is any good. I was going through the motions, hoping to make a great work of art, writing and writing all the while. I pushed new stories into the world one after the other, sometimes publishing, but usually merely for the act of creating.

Then, two years ago, I began crafting another story. About midway through the writing of it, I realized that this was it. I was creating something worth standing behind and sharing with the world.

Check back next week for part 2 where I share with you the story behind my upcoming novel.

Cheers,

S.Cody Barrus

 

 

I Give to You and You Give to Me

The actual lyrics Cole Porter‘s ‘True Love’ is …will I give to you, would you give to me.. the message is more appropriate as titled above. This is an age of such sharing and it isn’t always True Love. In this house for the present it is the sharing of bugs, flu bugs to be more precise between G1 and G2, or is it flu virus?  Could be.  I am not sure it matters much anymore, the result is unwell children, and yesterday was the strangest day in a very long time of my relatively long past.

But quickly I must say I come not to just share bad or sickly giving, but a couple of lovely givings also, but first the matter of the children.

G1 at 9 has run a fever off and on for a couple of weeks.  The doctor diagnosed ear infection and all the appropriate liquids and drops, and he got better.  This past week about Thursday he began with some unpleasant gastric symptoms, the specifics of which you do not want to know and by the weekend became very febrile, febrile meaning high temperature.  Off to the family doc in the morning who said, ‘Get him to the hospital right away, it could be appendicitis.  Off parents and child go while this granny nanny stays home with G2 who is 5.  All morning the wee guy seems just a little off but his usual happy self.

By late afternoon, while the hospital waits for lab and x-ray results, exact mirrored events unfold on the home front.  At first I wonder if this child could possibly be tuning in to what is happening with his brother, but the symptoms seem to be a little more extreme than empathetic expression would allow.  About the time the physician in the ER confirms G1 has a virus, G2 is in full bloom, lethargy, emesis (vomiting) and severe abdominal pain and a fever that medication would not break for a few hours.

And so they shared and gave, not true love, but something almost as intimate.  THE FLU.  Today they are still recovering and it will  be another day or two at least.  I must say the flus of today are far more severe than in days of old.  Well except for the plagues and pandemic flus which gave death as well as illness.  But generally we are experiencing a swing to the more deadly end of illness pendulum for sure.

NOW for some good giving.

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In the beginning, say about 17 months ago, ( you didn’t really think I meant THAT ‘in the beginning was the Word‘ beginning?) when I first started blogging I discovered a world of wonderful talented writers.  It was like a combination of the best Christmas, birthday, anything gift one could have, and most of you are part of my inner circle yet.  What a rush!  Especially when I read,  made comments, and people actually answered.

I had been reading and loving one particular gent and much to my surprise one day I find this.  Now tell me true, does your heart not flutter a bit? Eventually S. C. (or Cody as we of the inner circle call him) moved onward and upward.

NOW there is a surprise coming the last week of this month and I won’t reveal it except to give you a couple of hints.

http://awayandaway.com/

 

http://www.wattpad.com/story/4607066-discovering-aberration/

See?  I give to you and you……dear readers allow yourselves a true treat and follow the yellow brick road, – uh I mean the links.

MORE TO COME!

Sometimes that Harper Faulkner Gets a Little too Real

English: A Little Baggage

English: A Little Baggage (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am happily reading your posts and relishing every moment.  It’s 5:25 pm on a Tuesday  and I am pretty pleased with myself that this day has not gone to waste.  Yet.  I did a lovely reorganization of my living quarters that ended up being an exhausting but rewarding endeavour.  Then I click on The Measure of Success .  I read the quotation that’s been on his mind and think ‘Uh Oh’, because then he asks a question.

So the question I am asking myself this morning, and asking you, is what problems in 2012 did you bring with you into 2013 and can you, without needed outside intervention, solve those problems right now, right here, today?

Many of you, my delicious sources of entertainment, often ask questions in your posts.   I always consider them and then sometimes tuck them away for future consideration (avoidance at its best), possibly even find an easy answer for (slightly delusional here), and sometimes I face it head on (though I may not share my thoughts with you).

But it is difficult when HF asks a question.  He seems so sincere in the asking that one feels that answering is unavoidable.  I have been wrestling with my baggage for sometime now – months, and decide at times that it really is not important so there should be no struggle, but its a convenient answer and does not address the issue.  I have even bravely asked myself how I see the me I want to be, but yikes that is really scary so I don’t spend a lot of time on the thought.  But the thought keeps returning.  Again and again.

I did leave a comment for him, but then realized I could not adequately answer in a comment.

We have baggage because it must give us something, provide something – maybe excuses.  I honestly don’t know the answer to that one.

I read on a blog sometime ago, and wish I could remember whose it was, that someone they knew had been in a coma for months, and then suddenly sat up one day and said, “Nothing matters” and then died.  That has taken up residence in my palace of thoughts and while I consider all kinds of possible meanings, I have failed to arrive at any conclusions.

You know in my time as a nurse (many decades) I have been present at a lot of deaths.  Most have been wonderful experiences but some people have expressed that they wish they had done life differently or done something differently or wished they had made different decisions.  Some expressed regret that they had not done enough.  Enough is a pretty personal measurement so who can judge?

When I was younger I used to think that I would die with no regrets, that I would follow every path I could.  But that is a very naive thought because for every path we follow, every choice we make, we leave so many others undone.  Which in some strange way takes me back to the whole baggage thing for there is much that is undone, and yes until I can shed baggage it will be difficult to accomplish.

HF you certainly have stoked the fires of my soul, plainly asking what I have spent so long skirting around.  I don’t even have a whole answer as to the what or the how, but I guess I had better get on with it.  Procrastination is perhaps not as permanent a solution I hoped it was.

Credit Where Credit is Due: Moorehead not Carlin – Profound Apologies

Yesterday I posted a wonderful pondering of thoughts about the ‘state’ of things.  Many people commented on the wisdom and sensitivity of George Carlin, who while he is much loved for many things was not the author of Something to Ponder.

I got a very nice comment from Tim Copsey that these words were in fact and essay called The paradox of our time written by Bob Moorehead.

I did what I should have done yesterday and researched what I could about Dr.  Bob Moorehead who was the pastor of Overlake Christian Church in Redmond, Washington for 29 years, which was once the largest church in the state of Washington.

This was the message from Tim:  And below that my response along with apologies.  We all know you cannot always trust the information on the internet.  You know the old joke “if its on the internet it must be true”, but I should have checked and next time will.

Nice words, but George Carlin did not write this, it’s an essay called “The paradox of  our time” by someone called Bob Moorehead. An outspoken atheist, Carlin would never have urged anyone to pray more often.

If you think that doesn’t matter, I’d say its important to make sure the right words are attributed to the right people. Carlin hated being thought of as the author of these words, while Bob Moorehead deserves credit for them.

http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/paradox.asp

Thanks so much for letting me know Tim and I will repost your comment for everyone, at least everyone who reads this to correct the information.  Credit where credit is due as any of us who has occasional original thoughts would appreciate.  I’ve seen George several times live and yes he was an atheist, proudly, and I think I got so caught up with the message that I neglected to consider the source. Chris

 

**Of note: For anyone else doing research, Moorehead did resign under a cloud which in no way affects the brilliance of his message.

George Carlin: Something to Ponder

Why? You must be asking yourself does this woman have so much to say today?  Two Posts on WP?

These are not my words.  They were posted on my FaceBook and I have always thought George Carlin was more philosopher than comedian so am bringing this to you on his behalf!

Pondering

Pondering

SOMETHING TO PONDER: George Carlin

George Carlin’s wife died early in 2008 and George followed her, dying in July 2008. It is ironic George Carlin – comedian of the 70’s and 80’s – could write something so very eloquent and so very appropriate. An observation by George Carlin:

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life. We’ve added years to life not life to years. We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We’ve done larger things, but not better things.

We’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We’ve conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We’ve learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.

Remember to spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn’t cost a cent.

Remember, to say, ‘I love you’ to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

And always remember, life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by those moments that take our breath away.

George Carlin

Daily Prompt: Call Me Ishmael – The First Sentence

I usually do not post on a weekend but the Daily Prompt caught my eye and of course I just had to respond.  DP Challenge: Take the first sentence from your favorite book and make it the first sentence of your post.

My very very first thought was my favorite first sentence is not in my favorite book.  Way back in October 2011 I wrote about three of my personal fave authors and called it Cussler, Koontz and Stockett, and the line said, “Death was driving an emerald green Lexus“.

The first sentence of my favorite book is “He should never have taken that short cut.”  It’s from Michael Crighton’s book TIMELINE and the poor book is barely hanging on to existence.  Well actually it is not hanging on at all.  Its soft cover is curled back from the spine top and bottom.  The back cover has about an inch square flapped firmly back and some of the pages are missing.  At first I kept putting the pages back loose leaf like and then one day a few pages disappeared.  That was okay as I thought I would just fill the gaps in from memory as I read and reread and reread.  This book has served me well for the last twelve years but I can’t put it to rest until I replace it.

I discovered a long time ago that bedtime reading cannot be anything I am currently reading for the first time because I simply cannot put the book down.  So bedtime fare is one of a few fave rereads (although sometimes I get so caught up in it….well you know.)

So my poor book, like a weary soldier continues to soothe my soul and mind and guard against that thief of the night, Insomnia’ and yes it will be retired once I find another copy.

my valiant knight/night

my valiant knight/night

looks pretty weary huh?

looks pretty weary huh?

held together by the last straw I think

held together by the last straw I think

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