1,000 Words XI: The Alter-Ego

Evil Me

Evil Me

I recently started watching ABC’s “Once Upon a Time,” which is quite an excellent show. Part of the show’s theme is exploring the dichotomy of its characters, specifically the villains. What makes a villain a villain? Are villains evil in all ways at all times–or, because they were once not villains, is there still some shred of good floating around in their shriveled up husk of a soul?

Can they be redeemed?

I really enjoy this particular exploration. As I’ve said before, I have a special place in my heart for the baddies. Part of it’s because I operate on the theory that we all start as something different. It’s interesting to consider that maybe some of our favorite heroes actually started out as villains. Can you imagine? Characters you know and trust, characters you feel incapable of harming others, could once have been merciless killers.

That would be a neat device to shake up your story, the good guys having started out as something bad. Evil is a matter of perspective.

Have 60 seconds, courtesy of Mr. Bradbury

I have been very remiss in working on my Viking story lately. Life, as they say, got in the way. If it wasn’t a sick cat, it was crazy stress at work. If it wasn’t work stress, it was guilt about not writing recently. If it wasn’t guilt, it was random emotional baggage.

You get the idea.

Then I stumbled across this quote:

“I don’t believe in being serious about anything. I think life is too serious to be taken seriously.”
—Ray Bradbury

It made me feel better. I have been taking life too seriously, letting even the minor stresses really get to me. That’s no good, my hearts. It kept me from what I love doing most, which is writing.

So, today, if you feel yourself getting stressed out or overwhelmed or over emotional, I want you to take a minute and go elsewhere. Take 60 seconds and go outside, leave the room, or close your eyes and go to your happy place. Take 60 seconds to remind yourself that this, too, shall pass. You can get through it. Meanwhile, find something to laugh about.

Take 60 seconds and giggle. Take 60 seconds and write–something, anything.  Or if you aren’t a writer, take 60 seconds and do the art of your choice.

Serious things happen. Life happens. But, there will always be laughter and art. And once the seriousness of life passes there will be even more time for laughter and art. Work through the darkness and you will find another light.

One more quote for my word-nerds:

“Let the world burn through you. Throw the prism light, white-hot, on paper.”
—Ray Bradbury

Happy Wednesday, my doves.

New posting schedule!

Hello, my doves! I hope everyone had a good St. Patrick’s Day, and that you aren’t sitting in the drunk tank waiting on bail or something of that nature, and have all your body parts. And sanity.

Well, okay, the sanity is optional. Anyway.

I’m sorry I have been missing in action for the past two weeks. It was a perfect storm of craziness: work was crazy, cat was sick (round two!), and it was just all kinds of nonsense.

That said, it gave me quite a bit of time to think about–and feel guilty about not posting on–the blog. Lately, I’ve been having trouble keeping up with my three times a week posting schedule. I either run out of things to talk about or I don’t have a lot of time to write the blog posts. Therefore, I have made the executive decision to reduce my posts to once a week.

The new posting schedule will be Wednesdays, going up at 10am Eastern Time.

Which means, technically you will be getting two posts this week. This one, and then one for Wednesday. Friday you are on your own, kids.

The goal of this new posting schedule is so I can bring you more quality content, and more of that content being about the art and business of writing, publishing, and creative agony.

Kisses and rocket ships,

Jackie.

Flashback Friday!

I would just like to point out to you all that I have had The Klutziness all my life. It started with minor flaky moments, and evolved to the personal, self-inflicted injury that I know today.

My uncle sent me this photo recently:

That's peach satin with a lace overlay, for the uneducated. And a hoop skirt.

That’s peach satin with a lace overlay, for the uneducated. And a hoop skirt.

Which reminded me of The Incident I had wearing that dress. I was the flower girl in a late 80s/early 90s wedding.

That dress, which I so ardently adored at that time–it made me feel like a freakin’ princess, okay?–became the bane of my existence. It had a hoop skirt. Which, for a little girl, is pretty awesome. So, picture this.

My mother, wearing a powdered blue satin dress with lace gloves, is milling around my grandmother’s living room with her sisters, and the bride–who is also her sister. All the bridesmaids are wearing some pale shade of satin dress. I decided to sit on the couch. Like every little kid, I plopped down haphazardly.

And then my skirt went over my head.

It was a storm of lace and peach and laughter. I flailed around for a second because the hoop was attacking me. But, eventually my mother came to my rescue and got me off the couch and my skirt under control.

I was so glad the room was filled only with women.

The rest of the wedding and reception, I had to perch on the end of chairs. It was quite uncomfortable.

Ain't I cute? I wonder what happened.

Ain’t I cute? I wonder what happened.

The end. Happy Friday.