Fear in a Handful of Dust

Evening lovely readers 🙂

Here is a guest post by yours truly exploring the concept of fear and phobias. Admittedly I have a few so I could pull from life but everyone should have a go at writing out of their comfort zone. I hope you enjoy and I hope you follow Helena for some great fiction with ooey gooey literary goodness 🙂

Thank you 🙂

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#Flash Sunday (you knew it was coming) – A Life Worth Living

Hello lovely readers.

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Well it seems I’m making a nasty habit of this. I always promise a post a day and that this is coming then or then or then and then of course something gets in the way. I kid you not; I’ve had to go out in search of missing nieces, I attended my friends wedding of the century and I’ve plain just been too tired sometimes. So, now I’m going to just promise I will be posting a heck of a lot just sometimes it may not be everyday lol 🙂

Okay, so I promised a #FlashFriday to celebrate gaining over one hundred new friends. Alas, tiredness and a wedding prevented me from doing that so here’s my #FlashSunday. I tried to not make it fantasy but failed miserably. I had thought to write a series of diary entries consisting of some of the hectic emotions I suffered over the last couple of years but damn I must have been boring lol 🙂 Anyway I hope you enjoy this outing better 🙂

 

A Life Worth Living

Alexiel had to sigh. What Bard worth their salt couldn’t come up with a tale? She was due before the King in one hour but her mind was still cruelly blank. A trickle of cold sweat travelled mockingly down her brow. What path was possibly left to her now?

Oh she knew where her mind block began. She hadn’t been able to create at all since Mikhail had crushed her spirit and then tried to literally crush her. The constant insults and attacks on her confidence she could handle but a gigantic floating boulder? Not so much. Damn mages. Should stick to the library where they belong.

She sighed again. She was wary when he had asked her to dance at the gathering. Mages always had some trick or other up their ridiculously long sleeves; but she had been flattered by the older mage and in awe of his handsome looks. She snorted. If only she had known he wouldn’t keep them.

She glanced at the throne room doors, half her brain worrying about her lack of creativity. The other half contemplated the six and a half years lost to the magical worm. She straightened her deep purple bards robes nervously, wondering how she’d let her mind focus on him. She supposed it was easier than assaulting her mind block, or part of her was angry at the loss of years, or heck that even now she worried how others saw her. She was a bard, her position alone earned her respect. Now however she knew her image had been affected what with being so wrapped up in him. She was severely disgusted in herself.

As she glanced at the throne room once again she was shocked to see the great oaken doors open. Surely it couldn’t be time already? She almost swallowed her tongue as her gaze met a mutual piercing ice blue one. A man had exited; he wore the fine velvet garments of a Lord but something seemed a little off. She couldn’t sense a magical aura but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. He came towards her with kind eyes and a wicked smile and she swore her heart leapt. What is this?

“Greetings Lady Bard,” he said in a mesmerising voice. “I am Lord Duna Ain. It’s a pleasure to meet you. The King speaks so highly of you,” he took her hand and pressed his soft lips to it. At this point she knew she should reply but her mind had turned to fairy mush. Wow, he’s one handsome man. It was evident he could see his effect on her as he smiled once again and said,
“I will see you soon.”
She could be wrong but did his eyes just flash ice blue flames? She watched as he walked briskly away. Wow what an ass.

She shook her head as she was called into the room and realised she had been staring a while. What a mysterious effect this Lord had on her. She found herself hoping they would meet again. She smiled with sudden brilliant clarity; she could now see her story complete with a dashing rogue that had a devilish grin and ice blue eyes. She loved her brain when it worked. Silently nodding her thanks she turned and entered the glittering throne room complete with over a hundred listeners. Every one was a friend and every one she loved.

Passion of My Life

Hello lovely readers 🙂

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A few days ago when thanking all you lovely people who have followed my blog I promised I would dust off my very questionable poetry skills and write something about my passion. I really love to write and use my imagination for strange and wonderful things, as you’ve probably guessed from previous posts lol 🙂 Forgive the calibre of the poem, it’s been a long time and it only took me thirty minutes to write lol 🙂

 

Passion of My Life

Like many in this life who think
To do what they do love
I pick up my large frosted drink
And thank the powers above.

 

I use my brain to think up stuff
With such a happy fashion,
With a sigh and heave and huff
I carry on my passion.

 

Believe me when I come to say
There’s something just so good and bright
When I spend the entire day
With the beautiful, deadly chance to write.
 
And there you go. I told you I was very rusty 🙂 I hope you enjoyed it. Now I must dash as my eight month old is screaming the house down. I guess it’ll have to be a #FlashSaturday again. Sorry 😦

Thank you 🙂

 

 

Passion: Underrated or Over Used??

Can you ever have too much passion in your life? We always see it as such a positive emotion to have about your work (and life), be it writing, playing an instrument or anything else. If you have a love for what you do, surely the creative energies will simply flow; but what if too much passion isn’t such a good thing?

I was recently having a conversation about writing with my friend and fellow author Jex (mentioned in the pervious post) and we fell onto the subject of passion. I mentioned that what I admired about her work is she puts so much effort and love of the craft into every piece that you can really see the story unfolding in front of you. She replied that she felt like she waffled too much as the story runs away with her (she has never waffled), much as it has done to many of us.

I can understand her point though. If you find a part of the story you love you tend to run with it and try to get across to the reader your pure pleasure in the writing but you can risk losing the reader should you get too carried away, but it’s so hard to reign in the passion. As writers we need to focus, combining the passion with structure, story and love for everything written and I like to think that Jex, our writer friends, and myself pull this off well without sacrificing anything.

As both a singer and a musician you have no idea how hard it is to say that.

What do you think?

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