Fantasy writers create worlds within worlds and story scenes inside the mind at any given moment. It’s just what we do. And when it comes to our real life…not much different.
1. Imagining a rude, condescending boss tied to a chair, mouth taped, as we peacefully finish our work. Disclaimer: No bosses were hurt during the writing of this post or thereafter.
2. A traffic-free expressway/highway.
3. No line at our favorite restaurant for lunch.
4. A quiet spot in the house where everyone around us is floating overhead in slow-mo and on mute just to be able to get a few moments of writing done.
5. The day the youngest child becomes of age–the ripe old age of eighteen (okay, so this was my favorite one anyway).
Yesterday was that day for me and it failed in comparison to what I imagined years ago. There was going to be a party…for me, celebrating my new independence. But alas, the day came and instead of partying, a slight whimper escaped my lips as I repeatedly glanced over at my baby girl all growed up.
The parental tears of empty-nesting were falling like icicle daggers, realizing that she wouldn’t need me anymore because she was coming into her own. This was supposed to be a good thing, I thought. Is this what happens when real-life and fantasy don’t see eye to eye?
And then it happened, she looked at me and asked if we could get matching tattoos. Oh…the honor felt that she would let me, her mom, share a piece of her hip, new adult world and there was no prouder moment.
Not quite ready to release her out into society just yet, so I’m going to keep her close a little while longer. Now, onto new fantasies in the true fashion of, “be careful what you wish for,” or fantasize about.
How did your fantasy-to-real-life moment play out? Was it close to, true to or not at all what you imagined?
Charles John Huffam Dickens rise to fame came from a serial publication called The Pickwick Papers in March of 1836, skyrocketing him to international literary celeb status a few years later. Seven years after The Pickwick Papers his novella “A Christmas Carol” was born and went on to long-standing and still-standing popularity.
The energy around the holidays coupled with tidings of good cheer, a roaring fire or a lit tree, a comfy blanket on top a sofa nestled with the Christmas classic makes the season complete. But don’t forget the punch or eggnog for some.
At first glance, it appears to be a dark haunting of a bitter man (Ebeneezer Scrooge), who counters with “Bah humbug” whenever someone mentions Christmas or greets him with Merry Christmas. “Who would say such a thing about the most cheeriest holiday?” a small child says.
Upon further review, it becomes more festive with the past, present and future visits from the spirits and realizations, and then in the end–the laughter and joy of having time to change his evil ways. Oh, no! He dashes from his bed and starts the journey of charming his way back into the world where he was once happy. Charming indeed, that Ebeneezer Scrooge has charmed his way into the lives and homes of the masses. Thank you Mr. Dickens!
The first film adaptation was a short British film version in 1901, titled: Scrooge or Marley’s Ghost. And in 1938 Reginald Owen starred in the first “talkie” silver screen production of A Christmas Carol. I favor the one w/Alastair Sim and of course the stage play production put on by The Goodman Theatre every year. This year marks the 35th Anniversary of A Christmas Carol at The Chicago Goodman Theatre.
What’s your favorite part of A Christmas Carol? Will you and your’s be watching it or going to see it this holiday season?
I would like to take this time out to thank all my followers and fans. This is also an invitation to check out my new author’s blog on WordPress titled Realm Play at realmplay.wordpress.com
I created Realm Play as a mainstay for my novel series, upcoming projects and to journal my journey so far. Thanks for taking the journey with me! Feel free to interact on the T.O.O. Throne of Olympus Fan Page, browse around and get to know the characters, the myths and their realms. Let me know what you think and if any of you have tips on how I can make the site better, please let me know. Suggestions are welcome!
As for A Novel Perspective, I will continue to post on this blog. And sorry I haven’t been posting much lately, but with the release of T.O.O. and recovering from a nasty stomach bug…been swamped. Hope Realm Play will make up for some of the lost time and it will updated and more content added as it becomes available. Thank you guys so much for reading my posts, your support means a lot to me.
~ A.M. Day
Christmas holds different significant meanings for people: religious meanings, commercial and of course the favorite one for children…the fantasy behind it. Well, raised on the two topics not to discuss–politics and religion, the one I would like to shine the spotlight on is the fantasy one.
We never had Christmas in our house growing up. No tree, Santa who? No decorations, unless you count the candy canes and glitter ornament-adorned evergreen trees I would make out of red and green construction paper. Mommy would let me tape a few to the front window. And I tried hard to believe in Santa Claus. It came as no surprise that not only would Christmas be brought to life in my own home as an adult, but the fantasy of it would be so great. I used to want to live in an actual Christmas Town, where 24/7 it would rain, sleet and snow Christmas any and everything. My town had lights that never went off, snow-covered cottages with ample color and candy accents (think old-fashioned Gingerbread houses). And every house had a brick fireplace.
Share how you see your Christmas Town? Would it have reindeer? Would it be a Christmas Farm? Would it look like a scene straight from How the Grinch Stole Christmas’ Whoville?
by A.M. Day
Recently, while on a river walk, I stumbled across something huge—the undeniable urge to write about what I rediscovered…Muses. Like other writers, I sometimes have more than one. They tap and hammer and hone in on my frequency, sometimes all at once—especially, if I’m ignoring them to quiet my mind. And I have been ignoring them lately…my own Muse included. I found a way to silence them when needed. My Muse had been resting comfortably during her forced hiatus as I began to reflect on this year so far. She usually shows up when I’m truly in need of some Muse musings, inspiration.
But the last couple of months…nothing. Not a peep out of her or the other Muses. I searched deep within the walls of my mind, my heart. She wasn’t there. This dragged on, forcing me to do whatever I had to in order to revive her spirit. I walked and ran, hoping she’d pop in with her regular chatter and rattling off as the endorphins opened me up. And still, no Muse or Muses. She was snubbing me, giving me the cold shoulder, like I had been doing to her.
I killed my Muse! I remember thinking. A feeling of loss came pouring in as I sat on one of the nearby benches. The river rippled and something gushed from underneath, pushing bubbles to the surface. As I took off to finish my walk, a song played out against nature’s tapestry, enticing me to take a closer listen. Every step felt as if something were touching me, playing tag with my soul. It danced a circle around me, in front of me and behind.
Something was with me the further I walked through the lushness of the tree-lined path. My ears became hyper-aware as the droopy tree branches on either side of me began to sway synchronously. The soft, colorful fall leaves and the stiffened, brown ones blew underneath my feet, racing me, as I lifted one foot after the other. There was a lively jolt further in that became dormant when I passed the thicket, toward the opening to the end of the path. I turned to go back the way I came, only to find that my Muse had warmed up to me again and invited a few of her Muse friends to play.
“She’s not dead! I didn’t kill her!” I sputtered inside. All the joy came flooding back to me. Gleeful whispers passed my ears, and then I heard it…loudly, distinctly. “You would not like it if someone tried to quiet your voice. Why would you quiet our voices? Never turn your back on us again or we might have to leave you for good…for someone who will appreciate our gifts and who enjoys playing with us.”
“I have learned my lesson well, Muse. And I will never turn my back on you again,” I replied.
If you lose the Muses, remember, they play all around us and within. We just have to be willing to pay attention, respect them or begin-the-begin.