Sneaky Jack Frost

Last week became clouded with a string of annoyances, and mini-disasters that threatened to turn my world upside down. Being the optimist that I am, I started to freak out, and then realized that my energy was better spent elsewhere. So through the absence of internet, through losing all of the information from my cell phone including the address book, and after a ton of other issues, here I am still standing. Remarkably, my sanity is still in tact, or at least the sliver I possessed before the universe decided to throw an arsenal of curved balls.

...And rather than dwell on the week I had last week, I will keep my feet facing forward. I had a great day at the school today in the classroom with the reading and writing groups. They were writing about winter, and to help the flow of ideas and demonstrate the use of adjectives, verbs and joining words, I whipped up a poem of my own:

Sneaky Jack Frost

Icy white

Shining bright

Jack Frost comes out

In the middle of the night

Glittering spikes

On the top of his head

Bringing a wintery blanket

While you sleep in your bed

Sparkles in the grass

Diamonds on the ground

Then he creeps away quietly

Without making a sound.

What I intended to be an example for the children to demonstrate what we hoped them to achieve turned out to be a bigger spectacle than I anticipated. The teacher read the poem to the whole class and asked my permission to type it up on the computer for class use. I'm just glad the kids enjoyed it.

Crossroads

I assumed that once my newest short story had been submitted for the second Evernight book, and once my novel (The Mercenary) sent off to the publisher,  I would be able to relax. How wrong I was. I cannot deny that I experienced a sense of the weight of the world being lifted from my shoulders once those two journeys, one small and one extensive, had come to an end. But the sensations of floating, and perhaps even "Whatever will I do next" barely even registered.

The ideas trying to burst forth as we speak, all trying to push each other aside to gain priority in my mind? That is what it means to be a writer. Regardless of how many things you have published or even if you have published at all, being a writer means that there is no beginning nor end to the journey, only stops along the way. I have come to an intersection of sorts, and have a decision to make. The question is not "Whatever will I do next?" The question is in fact: "Out of the pandemonium in my head, which idea will I choose to focus on?"

I already have a number of chapters written for the sequel to The Mercenary. After careful thought I have decided it needs a good deal of rearranging before I will write anything further on it, but now that I have both my submissions handed over to the appropriate people, my brain is ready to tackle this project once more. I feel refreshed and positive about how the second book is looking, and I cannot wait to work on it. As for the other ideas rolling around in my head... we will just have to see.