Sunday, 17 May 2015

The Loft... In My Mind.

Picture kindly shared from Pinterest.

The loft in my mind is open 24/7... It’s a place for characters who want to transpire in my next story, or book. I’ve heard them say they chose me to ensure their story is heard; they need a connection, oh and a place to stay... It’s disappointing but I've had to disengage from a couple of characters; they were dark, too dark to live in the loft. With help from the rest of the residents, their removal was relatively quick because the lofts residents won’t put up with anything, or anyone who tries to take over... Dear lord, don’t ever let anyone try to take over.  The chances are the residents will take over, and we won’t see the character again.

(At first it was as if the statement below was heard through an old radio)
“My dream multiplies; it looks, sees, and wants what it wants all of the time”.

These words greeted me last night as I tried to relax. Initially I attempted to ignore them because I knew this had to be a new character trying to move into the loft but I'd been writing all day, I wanted to rest.  
“If you don’t listen then I’ll keep saying it, my dream multiplies, it looks, sees, and wants what it wants all of the time” (Silence)

(Someone) breathes a heavy Sigh... 
“My dream multiplies; it looks, sees, and wants what it wants all of the time”

That someone is breathing to the point where I can literally feel its frustration as it seeps into my bones.
“My dream multiplies; it looks, sees, and wants what it wants all of the time”

I should speak, maybe even acknowledge its presence but to be honest I can’t tell whether it’s male, or female. Maybe it’s neither, maybe it’s from the other side? I’ve had a few of them, and again, not a pleasant experience.
 “My dream multiplies; it looks, sees, and wants what it wants all of the time”

“Ok, ok... Bloody hell I’m coming”.
Reluctantly and with much annoyance I progress towards the staircase... here is where I always find them. Their either sat on the bottom step, draped over the banister, or persistently knocking on the lofts huge double doors, which by the way would never get an answer, because the residents have stopped opening the door to strangers. So they wait for me. 

The smell was atrocious ... I smelt him before I saw him, and I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see. A small skinny man with knobbly knees, he wasn’t wearing any trousers, however he was wearing shiny shorts. His white string vest had seen better days. I couldn’t believe the oversized trainers with no socks, and his small bony face housed dark sunken eyes, it was as if two thumbs had pressed them into an oversized skull.  On his head wispy bits of what looked like hair waved like seaweed, but for the most part he was bald. On his forehead he had a long, rather strange looking scar which was shaped like a bolt of lightning. His hooked nose protruded like that of an eagle.  I noted and quickly recoiled from his grubby hands, nails were bitten and black, as if he’d been digging dirt all day. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and lying on the floor by his feet was a small, brown, dingy looking suitcase.
Clearing my throat I asked what I could do for him.

“Ahh you came” he boomed.
Now there was a voice that didn’t suit this man.

“Yes I usually come when summoned, especially if a room is needed for the night”
“I need it longer, much longer, and maybe longer still”.

He stood, moving from one foot to the other in a most irritated fashion.
“What can I do for you sir?”

"I need somewhere to stay, and with someone who can make my dreams, nightmares go away”
Uneasy, he looked around...

“What are you running away from?” I enquired, (no point in beating about the bush)
"Nothing... no one, just down on my luck and need company”

“You wouldn’t be bringing any bad luck to my door now would you?”
No answer...

“Would you?”
“Of course not, like I said, need a place to stay and some company”

“Do you work around here?”
“Yes I work close by, came straight from there and needs me a shower”

Lip licking and nervous tension, (I didn’t like this...)
“Tell you what sir; I’ll see if there are any vacancies... I’ll be right down”

I knew I hadn’t made the right noises, his dark eyes smouldered as dirty, bony fingers twitched.
At the top of the stairs I knocked, a resident opened it a crack.

“Any vacancies?” silence rebounded as the resident stepped forward, and looked down the stairs eyeballing the character.
“Who wants to know” the resident replied hoarsely.

“I do” came the skinny mans booming response.
“Come closer and we’ll discuss”

The skinny man dragged his suitcase up the stairs; his eyes never left the resident.
"I’m looking to stay for a few days, need company and some routine”

“Is that right?” said the resident as a few more voices vibrated from the door.
“Well this is how it goes, we don’t like noise, disrespect, or parties; no strangers are allowed, and no smoking, we have a rota for cleaning the kitchen and bathroom daily, any problems with that?”

“No problem at all, I’m not after looking for any trouble, just need accommodation”. The resident made way and made a gesture with his hand towards the door, and as it opened all that could be seen from within was dark shadows.
Just as he got to the perimeter of the door, skinny man looked around, winked at me as he whispered,

“I’ll be seeing you”. He was gone.
“You’re letting him in then?” I nodded to the resident.

“Yep, any funny business like the last one and you’ll hear from us soon enough or maybe you won’t”.
As the resident blinked green, lizard like eyes, I rubbed my chin as I considered our new character, a character that will certainly get creative juices flowing; he obviously has issues, possibly some interesting history. Doesn’t really matter, he managed to get his oversized, sockless feet through the door to the loft, and if you knew the Loft’s residents that is indeed a massive achievement. 

Stay tuned for updates.

©2015 Jane Ewen




Sunday, 10 May 2015

How Writing Has Positively Influenced My Life...

My own Image used.

“I am participating in a Writing Contest: and it’s all about:
How Writing Has Positively Influenced My Life ~ Hosted by Positive Writer.”

Memories are sometimes beautiful and often painful... but in my opinion they are oh so necessary, and help to make us who we are...  

Addressing the question, in what way has writing positively influenced my life?
I am showered with immense possibilities...

Mist descends as my mind becomes a black and white film-show; it takes me back to unimaginable years.  Bleak rooms, with bad people... I owned a voice that was never heard, and an imagination never nurtured but despite all of that I miraculously possessed a burning desire for the impossible.   In dark days I walked a lonely path where I made up invisible friends. It was only when I learned how to read and write that I sensed real magic. As a child I stayed with that magic as reality was cruel. I recall making lines and circles, and then pretending to write amazing stories, I could be whatever character I chose to be, but always I wanted to be the mummy.  Some years later I was surprised to hear that the authorities believed what had saved me, was my gift of holding my hands over my face to pretend I was invisible.  

When I was  fifteen years old I put pen and paper away, I destroyed all the stories which promised someone to love me, and I threw away precious magazines, and books, because the time had come for me to look after myself...

I didn’t know then that it would be quite some time before I picked up a pen again, and feel those long-lost stirrings of my own magic, but I did and I never looked back. I realised even then, that writing, sharing, and caring was an extraordinary way of connecting, communicating, planting seeds, to learn, and show those that are interested it’s possible to connect on another level, a deep level where a writer is able to express, or better still give a piece of themselves.  As you may imagine when I started to write again, it was like I couldn’t stop, my heart, head and hand just produced all these thoughts and words, my blog received some and the rest I filed away.  

During my absence from writing I did not waste time, I had a career, married and I became a mother. All those dark years of pretending... finally a mother and I confidently say I’m the best mother I can be. During those wonderful years my yearning to write did start to tap-tap me on the shoulder but I was fulfilled and happy for the first time in my life. I had a family. Then a crisis, a heartbreaking tragedy struck my heart. One afternoon for five hours I waited by the hospital bed of a loved one, I went over my life; I made promises to god as I begged for help. I also made a promise to myself that I would no longer put my writing on hold, and I would write as often as I wanted. Within that writing I knew I would always spend time to pass inspirational messages on to whoever was interested, because as a reader I also knew that we often read things, they strike a chord and again those random words touch a place that helps, and heals.

Of course I have dreams... I happily work on projects with the vain hope that one day when the time is right they will be released, but for now all I want, is to see my words flow and know they mean something to someone. As a writer I also understand words can be powerful, and I will always remain mindful to make sure my words won’t hurt, wound or maim, aha, unless of course I’m writing a story.   

In a flurry of writing I am clear that for me there are no expectations, in fact it would be fair to say that despite no expectations, my beloved writing has indeed healed me, and it’s in that gratitude I want to share my positive journey.

~Jane Ewen~