54 million views!
I’ll not confess to how many clicks are mine! Any appetite for a series of Elsa Holland Highlander novellas??
I am having a great couple of weeks putting writing first. The best thing about dodgy internet is that all those pressures to stay on-top of your regular responsibilities are forcibly removed.
I make it to a cafe every now and again with excellent internet like Clear – pictures below. ( Clear was burnt down a couple of years ago, no insurance and all the cash money in the safe was also burnt. They set up somewhere else as they saved money and prepped the site to build the new Clear cafe below. The fire also took out a Balanese family home behind the restaurant and I understand the owner of Clear rebuilt the family’s home before the restaurant. They have a motto, ‘what’s good for people is good for business’ it’s a tough call living that kind of mission statement as a business AND I am confident it works.)
My lovely man… has been taking care of logistics for me – bringing back food and drinks so I can skip group dinners as well as heading out so I have time to write in peace & quiet.
We went for a drive on the motorbike the other day and he showed me a secret track he’d found around the back of the Monkey Forest in Ubud. But before that, he stopped in front of a statue he found and loved; he wanted me to see it. (note the wonderful way the monkey is gazing at his woman and where his right hand is)
Love is an amazing thing. I find I write in a genre that is highly under-rated and often scoffed at, but at the heart of it, has assumptions that romantic love heals and gives hope and direction in peoples lives.
Sensuality and sexuality is not something I think can be taken out of that equation when writing about romantic love. The process of joining with another person when your feelings are deeply engaged rattles the cage of things deep under the surface.
I once read that ‘love brings up everything unlike itself in order to be healed.’ Over the years I have seen that unfold time and time again. It’s as if, when someone loves you there is a part of you that says ‘let me show you why I’m unlovable’ and ‘suff’ that is not easy for people to live with comes out. If they leave it just proves the point ‘I’m unloveable’ but if they stay….. if they stay and you have nothing left to throw at them to prove your unlovability, I think you enter a ‘state of grace.’ A place where you can trust at a deep enough level to simply be who you really are.
I like to write about that <3
All the writers I hang out with have a muse of sorts. When writers describe their muse it ranges from a distinct presence to a form of inspiration or internal guidance. Some relay a sense of communication from within and others that it is somehow greater than them and more connected to something universal.
No matter what form they take, writers agree Muses are all demanding and moody task masters.
I experience my muse as a sensation. We communicate through a link, a golden thread connected to my belly that sinks deep down until it gets to very dark waters and dangles into it. Communications come as a swell that travels through the thread and back into my gut, creating a kind of fullness that needs to be transmuted into pictures, words and feelings which then take shape on the page as characters and story. By the time they are taking shape on the page they are quite formed. I don’t consciously create and ‘make up’ the characters and dynamics. I also don’t feel that I ‘make up’ the story, rather that they are all given to me. My job is to express it and if I fail to write it, someone else will.
Having said that, I do think there is a ‘simpatico’ between my personal life themes and the stories I am given. As if by the very fact I have the resonance of those themes I call to me stories with a similar vibration and frequency, if that makes sense.
I’m a pretty amicable sort but I regularly manage to upset my muses. For something so anciently archetypal they are pretty thin skinned, or maybe just inflexible task masters. Generally this ‘falling-out’ happens when I want to take the lead in the story and say something like “no, no we aren’t going to go that way, this is much more interesting… or this is closer to genre” well they dig their heels in and the swell stops and that great idea I had sucks and the swell that feeds me is gone. Eventually I head back to that awful idea the muses’ had and start it up again and wham, in comes the swell. I feel like I’m the typewriter and they are the fingers…
I asked some writer buddies to express some of their experiences and grumbles about their muse.
So, when I started writing I didn’t realize I was getting into a relationship with this motherfucker called Muse, and I say that with affection. Well, some affection. You see my muse and I have been at war since August last year. Mother. Fucker. Just once I’d like my muse to be easy but he/she never has.
Most of the time I think of my muse as a he—there is an abruptness to him, he comes when he comes and when he wants, he stays away. There is no cajoling him, no bartering, no demanding. It’s his rules. When he does show up, he likes to express himself in visuals, like watching a movie scene with the sound off but I can feel the characters emotions—joy, lust, pain, as if I waked in their skin, living inside them. Sometimes my muse does talk, not a voice but still in visuals. I see the words, like white lines on black, just dialogue with nothing to anchor it to a scene or place in the book. All of what my muse gives me is just seconds. Flashes. Random. A spark because he really has no interest in doing the heavy lifting, getting involved in the writing. He feeds me crumbs and the writer in me tries to fill up on it. And I can’t. The truth is writing is craft and mastery; the greats have unwavering discipline and my muse … my muse is all whim. He has moved on before I can even sketch what he’s shown me. Before I finish the book. Before I even germinate the story—the crumbs in my mouth turning to ash.
When I started writing I thought my muse and I were dancing. I didn’t see that we were not courting, or the battleground we were drawing. I didn’t understand that my muse is not my lover—someone I could call with a touch of my hand or still with my company. In some ways my muse will always resist. Always be an adversary. Always be a wonderfully, wild thing.
You can find more about Nicci HERE. She writes HOT BDSM and is working on a Anne Rice type Vampire series that I gobble up when ever she shares scenes of.Follow her on Tumblr if you like to blush while checking your phone.
Cassandra L Shaw
My muse as writers call what gives them story, has lived inside my head, taking me to wild worlds all my life. A mysterious creature, she cannot be found at a whim. She has no address, no phone number, no Facebook account or email.
She’s one of those friends who float in and out of your life when it suits them. The crazy friend who is fun and wild, and a tad whimsical, a little dark inside. She’s that friend who plants a goofy smile on your face and leaves your heart fuller as they waltz out the door, leaving you wondering or in this case—writing, until they once more return.
My fey mysterious friend often arrives when I’m writing a different story, urging me to change what I’m writing. She’s the one that whispers in my ear, no don’t write that, write this.
She throws open my door and waltzes in, wafting scents and images of other worlds.
It’s the images I write from. Pictures and flashes of scenes that play in my mind – as she urges me, write this down right now.
She’s like your favourite song, dragging you back to the dance floor even though you have blisters on your feet, or need to go home—or finish the story you’re writing.
She’s the reason I have several dozen partially written stories, just to get her images out of my head, the ideas down. But after messing up my routine, showing me alternative tales I try to ignore, she leaves.
I rarely disagree with her ways, though sometimes I have to dilute her dark side. I do however consider that a little dark makes the light seem brighter.
Cassandra Shaw writes Urban Fantasy, Shifters and Time-slip Romance. I love her writers voice, its versatile and strong. You can find more about Cassandra HERE.
Cathrine Winther Poetess and dark, dark writer shared this on troublesome Muses.
This is a very personal, reflective piece about my process with my muse. It is not a generalization to how other people experience writing or their muse.
My muse is a bastard. I love him but he is a bastard. That said, I wouldn’t change a thing about him. He is what he is and he does what he does very well. He feeds my creative drive. However, he largely does it on his own terms and in his own time.
I am not someone who sits around waiting for inspiration to strike. I write when I want to write, and if I have done the hard work, inspiration and my muse usually turn up. However, I am often writing blind. I tend to have a vague idea of where I am headed but many vital details are hidden from me until the moment comes that I have to write the details of that particular scene or character. This would be fine except for the fact that I co-write a lot of my books. My co-author (Leon) places a lot of trust in me that I will pull a rabbit out of the hat at the last minute when we write. In our latest novel I had to assure Leon that the villain of our piece would be fully fleshed out and present when it came time for me to write him… even though I had no idea who he was or what he was like right up until the day came and I had to put pen to paper. But, true to form, my muse pulled through and Malick, our villain hit the page running.
However, probably my longest ongoing ‘dispute’ with my muse is power. My muse doesn’t do things by halves. He loves writing very dark, powerful, dominant males. Although I value all characters equally, for me, there is something far more intense happening when I write these edgier characters. While this is exciting it is also incredibly mentally and physically draining. I tend to compare it to the idea of sprinting for two hours instead of slow jogging for two hours. After writing one of my typically dark and dominant males for two hours I feel like I have just done a two-hour sprint. As an ex, semi-pro sprinter I can confirm that sprinting for two hours is just about impossible.
Working through this issue is an ongoing, very conscious compromise between my muse and myself. I find it all too easy to sit down and start writing and before I know it, two hours have gone by and I have spent the whole time in the headspace of a dark, dominant male. More recently I have found ways to manage this better through routine and goal setting, but it is a battle because I am fighting instinct and emotion to keep my muse in check and take care of myself and my stamina. And in short, my muse is quite wild and doesn’t want to be controlled. Part of me loves that about him, the other part of me just rolls my eyes… Just like an old married couple.
You can find more about Cat HERE. I love her pomegranate banner image, the seeds that kept Persephone in the underworld with Hades.
Luckily, I am broken. I have been broken for most of my adult life.
They say your life runs in 3 and 7 year cycles, well I had a 7 year cycle from 15 – 22yrs which broke me three times. Breaks that each irrevocably shattered a chamber of my heart. I have written about a bit of that process HERE (there are three parts the links at the bottom of each post)
I have perhaps been overly protective of the forth chamber ever since. And having glimpsed people who have had the four chamber broken, I am not sure I am brave enough to walk that path.
Instead, much like the art of Kintsugi I have held the cracks and fissures together with gold. Valuing and allowing the beauty of those marks to shine as part of me.
When I run my hand over the past, over the raised scars, it still hurts. Yet that pain has brought with it some of the deepest wisdom and compassion to my character and life. It has given me a personal well to draw on, one that informs my life. And even more so my creativity. Ironically we don’t often write from the lighter happier experiences, more often we write from aches. We reach out into the collective unconscious and find the collective experience of that ache and work with it.
I don’t think I would write what I do without those breaks. I don’t think I would live with so much optimism while still seeing the darkness. The interesting thing is as veterans of these kind of wounds, you empathise with the wounds of others that are different. You can somehow step more readily into their shoes and feel with them their break.
Poets and artists have long known the windfall of damaged souls. This damage propels you into a landscape of shared humanity, of a shared vulnerability. As strange as it sounds, you start to worry the pain will leave and you will be left in a state of numb pleasantness that is the death to creativity.
‘Kintsugi is a Japanese craft that both repairs and beautifies broken objects using gold leaf. By accentuating the break rather than hiding it, kintsugi honors the history of the object.’ more HERE
This is a great video to watch about the creative process. There is a part where she talks about how a poet talks about the poems and how they come to her… just brilliant.
There are other elements that underlie the talk. The idea that artists can walk into the flow of the creative force ‘to be touched by god.’ What is it like to have had that experience and wonder if it will ever visit you again. Her own fears of what if the best work was the work you have already done, that nothing else will match it. Made me wonder if it was harder to hope for your work to catch fire and speak to thousands or to have already done that with a work of creativity and never be able to do something similar again.
As much as being witnessed is part of the creative process, I think there has to be something at the core of it that you do because you can’t not do it. Because doing your creative process is a process in itself independent of the results.
Big Thank you! The Veiled Heart is climbing the Gothic Romance charts on Amazon.com.
Today it has reached some pretty good rankings * happy dance* 🙂
Thank you to all of you buying The Veiled Heart or reading it on KDP Select XXOX
The Veiled Heart is currently ranked #1 in Gothic Romance – New Releases
Amazon Best Sellers Rank:
- #4 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Romance > Gothic
- #7 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Genre Fiction > Gothic
- #9 in Books > Romance > Gothic
Thanks for your support. Hope you leave a review.
The video is called advice to the young, but if you are in anyway creatively driven it’s a good listen.
Marina, says something that I’ve heard for writing as well. She says about performance art: “do what scares you.” As a writer we often hear “write what scares you”. I don’t think many peolpe would expect that to apply to romance as a genre but it does.
I don’t think I have really chosen anything yet that presses a lot of my buttons but I feel myself working towards that. Yet things still challange me as I write. I find that writing the conflict in the story can involve a lot of getting up and walking around and forcing myself back behind the keys and forging through the tension and getting it on the page. I can be known to leave a conflict and start a new story in the misplaced hope the tension will ease… it doesn’t, lol.
To write you are connected to your characters, and in a way you channel and translate their experiences into words. The biggest faux par as a writer is to under cut the depth of the character’s experience because it is too uncomfortable to wade through it with them as their biographer.
Thematically, I am attracted to stories and characters that reflect emotional and personal courage and exploring the release of old wounds through acts of deep intimacy. They are areas we can easily talk about academically and nod our heads at their importance when living a meaningful life. However, it would be interesting to see on reflection if that is how we have actually lived our life. We are not given many opportunities to demonstrate emotional courage and to undertake and embrace acts of deep intimacy. In reality we may only ever have a few occasions in our life that demand we step up right then and there and be in the moment with courage and vulnerability.
I find both of these areas very challenging. And have fail more than once. I have also succeeded.
I admire my characters willingness to undertake those acts. What it means that I write them I am not sure…..
“A photograph is not created by a photographer. What they do(es) is just to open a little window and capture it. The world then writes itself on the film. The act of the photographer is closer to reading than it is to writing. They are the readers of the world. ”
I love shadows. I came to really appreciate them living in Japan where light and shadow was a strong part of their aesthetic. This small series of lace shadows I find very beautiful and remind me of Lily’s veils in Lily and the Mechanic. The mood a bit as well. My mind always wanders when I see something that attracts me. This imprinting of shadow… something that’s there and not there reminds me of memories. They can fall over you like shadows as the day passes.
You can find him here:
We’re 75% water. But I think we treat ourselves as if we were solid because it looks like and feels like we are solid. No doubt the cultural idea that we come from the earth and return to the earth contributes to this sense as well.
But we aren’t really solid at all…. we are fluid and space.
We are full of water and we have all these cavities like lungs and digestive system, stomach ….. they act like drums when we are around strong sounds too. Vibrating the sound around us deeper and further into the body.
Here is a video of the effect of sound on fluids and other things like fire and sand. Watch it and imagine what listening to your favorite music must do to you given that you are actually mainly fluid. Remember how amazing listening to great music feels. How loud concerts can snatch you up in their sound and really move through your whole being. Match that with the visuals in the video…it makes you think a little differently about your body and why music is so fundamental to us and how we enjoy it.
Cymatics is the visible effect of sound on things.
Thank you to Dafni Ma a freelance Writer I’m connected to on FB friends for introducing this to me on her timeline.
Images Olivier Valsecchi Opiom Gallery
So come on love draw your sword and shoot me to the ground
You are mine and I am yours let’s not fuck around.
Because you are
the only one.
Angus and Julia Stone – Draw Your Swords – another great mood song. I’ve been known to put this on repeat when I write.
One of the things about many ballad lyrics and prose too, is that you don’t usually tackle them analytically to get meaning. They roll into you and you feel the meaning. Music adds to that conveyance in a big way.
I added Freda in here too. There’s something about the intensity of her and the brutal yet beautiful abandonment in the lyrics that go together. Like she’s daring you to slay her she loves you that much.
I think I’ve been very brutal to the ones I’ve loved the most in my life. Myself included. I’ve wondered about that intensity and ruthlessness, where it comes from and why we are driven to it. Probably explains some of the artists I like!
I feel deeply supported and appreciated, thank you!
It requires that I share Share 7 Lovely Facts about myself (Hmm how does a fiercely, private introvert manage that… Oh, I see …)
Well I guess that brings the list down to 6.
Ok, so the keys to my secret identity. Oh God the pressure!
- I think a tree must live somewhere inside my chest because I can feel other trees when I am near them.
- I am at my fourth heart. Unlike cats’ and their nine lives, we don’t have a whole lot of hearts to break. There comes a time when a heart breaks and you simply walk out of the ruins and never return.
- I have an addictive personality. If I like something I want it all the time. Music, I’ll listen to the same album till I’ve done it to death then listen again, mushrooms on toast – I want to eat that all day at the moment, and then yes there’s … him, but that’s secret.
- I am a moody hugger. Sometimes I will and sometimes I can’t. And I mean can’t. But I can always hug him.
- Kangaroos graze on my lawn, goanna’s try and eat my chickens and I have a python living in the roof. An average day in Australia.
- I believe some of the most powerful moments are embeded in the ordinary. I complement myself and others when I say we are, all of us, remarkably and wondrously ordinary.
So task two of the Award is: Link to 15 blogs (or as many as possible) that I enjoy reading. Nominate the authors of those 15 blogs to participate and do the same, linking back to the original Lovely blog. (That would be this page.)
You absolutely need to check Nicolette and Catherine out they are my super favorites.
I have many others I see every week that really bring me so much pleasure and I have selected a few below.
I shared something of this amazing book a couple of weeks back and here is some more for all the Nanorimo’s out there writing at the moment. I have just given key elements from a few paragraphs.
During movement into the imaginal, you experience a change in medium ….
The world that you are looking at is no longer a world of form but has instead become a living story filled with the mythic. At first what you are seeing is just a thicket of forms, symbols…slowly decoded, one at a time. But as you move more deeply into the analogical thinking, those textural forms soften, become transparent liquid, first viscous and sluggish, like a jelly of meaning, then ever thinner and more mobile, flowing faster and faster until, suddenly, you shift, and they are alive as you are alive, their interactive, communicatory expressions flowing towards you at the speed of thinking, until you can’t entirely distinguish the communications they are making from your own thoughts, so quickly do they move inside and become integrated by you.
In that moment the dreamer, that deep part of unconscious, becomes conscious…….. This is the place that Rilke often wrote of, and Baudelaire, and Goethe, and Corbin….
Once we enter this place, we begin to think not just analogically, but mythically. We immerse ourselves in the myth pool that Stephen King speaks of, the dark waters of duende cover us, black sounds reverberate, and imagination itself becomes a form of perception , of cognition, of understanding.
In this heightened state of perception you directly perceive, through both your feeling and visual sensing, the living mythic world that underlies the world of form…..
It is a place to which some part of us belongs, for we ourselves, come from an archetype that has expressed itself in multiple forms over long evolutionary time…. When we reenter the imaginal world, we touch that archetype one again….
And when you are in that state of perception certain things, of their own accord, present themselves for your gaze. There is some living thread which connects them all to the mythic your book is becoming.
Ok so have you ever read a line or a passage and it really moved you, more than the actual words on the page should have? I don’t know about you but when this happens it usually takes me by surprise. You are reading, immersed in the story, there is often an underlying tension that might be building and then you read this one sentence and wam you are hit with the emotion or the insight, like a damn was building up behind the words Buhner would say. That emotion or that deeper meaning was there under the surface, threaded along with the words and then all of a sudden it is on the surface. It’s pretty magical how that happens really. I’ve stopped and really analysed the words but it’s something underneath them that’s doing it.
ENSOULING LANGUAGE by Stephen H Buhner steps into this realm of writing and leads us through how it works and how any writing or art that is alive is a product of this process either consciously or unconsciously/intuitively.
Here are some samples from the book, they use writing but the same principles apply with other forms of art.
What he’s talking about in this snippet is the ability to write something while concurrently describing how it looks in the world but also how it feels in the world. And to do that as a writer you need to be in the feeling and the seeing of what you are writing about, in order to to express it. And when you are in that state it forms a kinesthetic dimension.
“Our capacity for nonphysically touching of the world opens up to us a different dimension of things beyond height, width and depth. A feeling dimension. And this feeling dimension of things will lead, if followed with focus and diligence, very deeply into the meaning of things in the world. Artists take this natural human capacity and go much further with it than most do; they do it as a profession. They begin to follow the touch of meaning upon them, follow their sensate perceptions of a golden thread, into the depths of the thing itself, into the meaning that underlie its surface form, its image.They then work to capture that in language.” ( or in music or photography or painting…)
Here’s another one about what happens when you write from this combined state of visually feeling it:
“A visual description then, in the writer’s hands, becomes infused with feeling. Simply by reading the visual description you have written, the reader feels the secret kinesis of the thing being described. Visual sensing, inside the writer ( and subsequently inside the writing), has taken on kinesthetic dimensions. And simultaneously, feeling has taken on a visual dimension. Simply by reading a line filled with feeling, a visual image or series of images unfolds within the reader.”
Buhner goes on to lead us through many other elements what layer into this process and consequently take us deeper and deeper into the process of enlivening our expression.
Anyway check out ENSOULING LANGUAGE it’s a pretty impressive read.
Virginia Rodrigues — Uma Histiria De Ifa
When I listen to this song, given that I understand nothing of the lyrics, my mind wanders in imaginary directions. I feel the words and music, and imagine what it must be about. Often where my thoughts go to say a lot about where I’m at
Have you ever sat with someone and neither of you spoke the same language and yet you had a conservation. A deep one.
It’s happened to me a few times. You can’t be sure you really understood each other but you both walk away feeling that a communication happened under the sounds you made at each other.
It starts of as exhausting, grappling to connect and understand. This is where the mind tries to form the bridge of understanding by relying on what it is the most familiar with, words.
When it fails, you either smile awkwardly get up and move on or you sit with it.
And if you sit with it, and I mean really sit with it. Something happens.
A part of you says ‘well I’m just going to hang out’ and after a while you let something inside you go. I don’t know what that something is but I have felt it looking at art or reading poetry. Like a switch that flicks maybe or that ‘the must understand things in this way’ part of your brain throws it’s hands up and walks of.
But whatever happens the result is that a different part of you sits down behind the wheel. And little by little you start to communicate.
Those parts of us which feel, read the currents that flow between all of us, knows the body language, the vibes, the moods and something else deeper still, when they all slip together, it clicks.
And YOU. KNOW.
You really know what is being said. Not a word by word knowing but as meaning that just lands in you.
No I haven’t been drinking. It probably sounds odd unless it’s happened to you.
To look at it differently, I believe nature reaches out to us in the same way. When you are in nature and something reaches into you and you are touched, there is a communion of sorts and it shifts you. That part of you that gets it, I believe is the same part of you behind the drivers seat I mentioned above.
We do it with animals too. And as I said with art.
Linguists report that humans communicate digitally with language and analogically with things like I mentioned above.
It’s something to cultivate I think…. a truly global communication perhaps LOL.
Anyway back to listen to Virginia Rodrigues!
What is it about this dark underbelly of emotion that gets me every time? I love slipping on my gumboots and rugging up to go out into this landscape. I think wandering into the areas of love, romance, heartbreak, loss, hope, longing… you know the list… means we rub shoulders with the human spirit. Often quite intimately. I think it is a landscape where our commonality as people comes to the fore and also one where your strength of mind, position in society and the world, have very little sway as to how well you will navigate through it.
Undoubtedly there are other arenas where this happens but for me it is the landscape of the heart which connects me to this common humanity. When I was about 9 I was living in the remote highlands of Papua New Guinea in a small mining community. There was a movie in the community center two times a week and on Saturdays I’d go with my dad. I remember walking back one night holding his hand as I cried my eyes out after seeing Romeo and Juliet. How was it even remotely possible that with so much love things could end so badly? … I think I was imprinted to write romance from that point forward.
Keep your head up, keep your heart strong.
‘We all break in different ways.’
© Elsa Holland
This quote has so much appeal. I wondered about that, why it rang so true for me and many others. Personally I think it speaks to the dilemma that in highly emotional situations you never really know if you are making the right decision.
It’s the hesitation.
The final desperate grip as you both move away.
That moment when the surety of your decision wavers.
The impact of what you are doing hits you and you loose your nerve,
just for a second,
and you tense up and grab hold.
But it’s too late.
There is a momentum that you haven’t really committed to stopping.
In the end there is blood on the floor and skin under your nails.
© Elsa Holland
© Image by Dascha Friedlová
I think we can all agree that tattoos have gone viral.
There is something very fundamental about choosing your symbols. They are our protectors, our journey markers, our identifiers and our story.
Whatever the reason you get a tattoo, ultimately it is a symbol of something which has a meaning to you. Being tattooed I think is us wearing our symbols on the outside. Equally and ironically, this makes our inside world and our life markers ( the things that often only those closest to us knew) a highly visible outer cloak. Perhaps something which is overriding an even deeper layer of self or maybe freeing us up to live a more authentic life with our values and life experiences openly expressed. Some people I have spoken to mention an increase in their sense of personal power, their belief in themselves.
I was attracted to the idea of writing about tattoos in what is now becoming the series called The Painted Sisters, early 2011 ( yes it has taken me ages to write the first one, what can I say life!!). As I started to work with a story around a surgery in Edinburgh, I found* that my Victorian heroine had extensive oriental tattoos and was OCD about buttoning up and scrubbing down. Hiding them of course given her time in history.
*Yes your characters surprise you all the time…’What you’re tattooed?? How come, you’re a Victorian woman…. What? They did that, then they what??? OMG let me write that down.’ Yeah that’s how it can go.
As a romance writer I liked the idea of exploring how this would affect intimacy. For example, when we are tattooed extensively like a full torso, we will never really be naked again. We will always be dressed to the eyes of a lover. In fact with time we would forget what we looked like under our symbolic overlay. But equally the magic of our experiences, symbols and identifiers rippling over our muscles would add a beauty and life that is not seen in someone who is not tattooed.
I have talked with many people who are extensively tattooed and some tattoo artists. I found that it is different for everyone what draws them to the art and what direction they choose to go, i.e. small, large, tribal contemporary…. What I did find was very common was that it often sparks off a burning passion to get more.
I’d love to know what you think about tattoos.
If you have time do the survey below and leave comments you’ll make me a happy woman.
© Elsa Holland
Just got a book in the mail.
How Forests Think by Eduardo Kohn.
I feel like I want to stalk around it a while before I pick it up and start the read. I can already feel that its going to do something to the way I see things and think. Love that about a book but its also hard work. A commitment to go on a journey, rearrange all the closets in your mind.
I don’t know about you but I store ideas, stories, facts and experiences that may not ‘fit’ in any particular world view I hold but never the less are pertinent or intriguing in some way that I want to keep them handy. Like a jigsaw piece that you put to the side and wait for the moment when its space is created and you can fit it into the whole. I tend to do this a lot with my relationship with nature. You can probably tell by the imagery in my blog and my prose that this inter-phase with nature and self is an important theme for me.
There are 3 things that are floating in my mind as I think about starting this book. A kind of anticipation “will this book go part of the way in helping me to add these pieces together” They are pretty ‘out there’ and a bit of a ramble to explain so I’ll spare myself the disclosure. But the interesting thing is having not thought about them for years they are brushing off the dust and eager for me to start the read while taking them into account.
I find a similar thing happens when writing romance. Themes come up and coalesce and they seem to awaken pertinent things that connect; an article I read, lyrics to a song, a mood, images, a movie. They all seem to step forward to bring a symbolic wallpaper around the desk as I write infusing the story and characters.
These more anthropological/shamanistic reads like How Forests Think, do the same thing but on me directly rather than a manuscript.
Anyway perhaps I’m just procrastinating…..I’ll have to put genre aside for a few nights and sink into the amazon…. the book promises.. ‘to call into question our central assumptions about what it is to be human’…. hmmmmm. I definitely see a mental spring clean to assimilate even a fraction of what that promises.
If I get excited I’ll share.