My try at poetry

I've never been one to write poetry and song lyrics seem easy until you actually try to put words on paper to the tune in your head.

But this week I felt inspired and this is the result. Good, bad, or mediorce, it's mine and it's from the heart.

The saddest sound in the world is a heart breaking.
With tears falling and love forsaking
You did this to me.
And I’m crying.

The hardest job in the world is going on,
Without the one you love who hurt you to the bone,
You did this to me,
But I’m trying.

You didn’t love me enough to let go of the stuff that drove us a part
You couldn’t see past the little wrong things to see my what was right in my heart.
I regret to think what will never be,
And I’m sighing.

The saddest sound in the world is a heart breaking in two.
The loneliest feeling in the world is knowing something special is through.
We did this to us,
There’s no denying.

View from my window

I love spring! I wish there were a few more flowers in the yard, but this view from my desk is beautiful just the same.

Savannah, who has been known to kill plastic plants

Starting now

Is it too late for new year's resolutions? I resolve to get serious about my fiction writing. I will never ever be able to sell a book if I don't pull the words out of my head and plop them down on paper.

This will be my year.

This will be my mantra: Write, Revise, Publish!

Taking a class by Greg Moffatt today through March 17 called "Inside the Minds of Serial Killers and Those Who Track Them Down." Should be interesting.

The instructor's description leaves out one attribute, which I have added below. Can you guess which one?
INSTRUCTOR BIO: Gregory K. Moffatt, Ph.D., LPC is a counselor, college professor, public speaker, and incredible hottie.

You can check him out at www.gregmoffatt.com.

That dang internet!

With the best of intentions, I signed up for not one, but TWO online classes: Plotting with Delilah Devlin and Elle James and Guerilla Tactics with Lori Wilde. I registered, I paid, I readied myself. Then my Internet went out for a bit. Thanks to my network guru Danny, I'm back online.

To say that I'm behind in the classes is an understatement. At last count, I have almost 800 emails to wade through and umpteen lessons to complete. I feel like the marathon runner that took a wrong turn at the starting line and ran a mile on the wrong course. But I will not give up. Better late than never right?

Deep breath.

I can do this. Time to go to school y'all. Class has started. :)

Finding a muse

"Thus, with child to speak, and helpless in my throes, biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite: Fool! said my muse to me, look in thy heart, and write. "

- Sir Philip Sidney

I sit in front of blank screens often, willing the words to come. They defy me. They mock me. They dance around in my head refusing to make that trip from my brain to my fingertips, magically transposing upon the faux sheet of paper on the computer with the infernal blinking cursor beating a morse code that when translated would surely say "You are a fraud. You are not a writer. Stick to something you know."

My only concern is this is all I know. I write because I am a writer. There is ink in my veins. I'm just having a 41-year slump is all.

Or should I say was. I’ve started writing again. And I owe this newfound commitment to written word to my muse. My wonderful, charming, forgiving muse.

To say thank you for kickstarting my creative flow, I offer this blog and this first post for him.