Give Me My Scallop Shell of Quiet

I’m about ready to depart to Thanksgiving Day festivities back in the old neighborhood.  It will be a loud and lively affair which I fully appreciate and am thankful to partake.  But since yesterday noon, I’ve been making art in my journal, and I realize how much I was in need of that quiet solitude.

I went to the second prompt, “Unleashing the Monsters” and did the Shell Guided Imagery.   I didn’t have a real shell on hand but I picked up one in my imagination.   The image was formed around the words that came to mind.   No monsters were unleashed.  In fact, what came was quite unexpected.  Here is the text in case you can’t read it.

I don’t want to go inside a closed shell.  It’s dark and wet in them.  I want to pilgrimage in the sunlight and pick scallop shells off the beach.  Scallop shells are open to the light.  They welcome the light.  In fact, I heard somewhere, in a movie I think, that the Italian word for “birth” means “welcome to the light.”  Shells are like that – they give birth to endless possibilities.

The centerpiece of the image is the first line of a poem by Sir Walter Raleigh:  Give me my scallop shell of quiet.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving Day and may you always be in the light.

Image and text:  L. Gloyd (c)  2009

There is No Road

“Where I Go, There is No Road”

Mixed Media Collage on Paper

Now that my NaNoWriMo writing is over, I have decided to go back to doing artwork for a while.   I am using as inspiration the posts that Heather has been uploading at Trains of Thought,  where she takes us on an Alice in Wonderland (or is it Oz?) journey through the halls of the Soul Food Cafe.  I’ve been a wanderer in these hall for over three years and I am still stumbling over wonderfully inspiring prompts.  And I so excited that Heather has decided to take us on a guided tour.   I’ve got my bags packed and my ticket in hand.

I’ll be starting with Once Upon a Time and Heather’s description of how she taught this lesson with her students has provided the format by which I will embark on this journey.  Heather writes:

I went out and bought a pile of 128 page notebooks.  I found an old  science trolley and filled it with these books, old glossy magazines, scissors, glue,  a roll of the clear contact used to cover library books and my ghetto blaster.

With this bit of inspiration, I acquired two new art journals, both Moleskines, one a landscape watercolor book and the other a portfolio with plain cardstock pages.  I will be doing mostly painting and collaging.  I’ve also gathered magazine and scraps of art paper in various textures and colors.   This past week I’ve been priming the pump by watching YouTube videos from various art journalers and paper artists (during breaks from writing).

So my response to being “Wild” was the image you see above.  The quote is something I heard explorer Josh Bernstein say in one of his episodes and it just resonated with me.     Really, when we create — whether in visual form or in word or by movement or with sound — we really do access the wild parts of our nature.   And with any real wilderness areas, there are rarely any roads.

So that being said, I am off on a new voyage into the uncharted regions of my psyche.  Wish me traveling mercies….. or better yet, join me on the voyage.

Image:  L. Gloyd (c)  2009

————–

And one more thing….   for some instructions on getting started in an art journal, take a look at artist’s Suzi Blu’s video.   She’s an interesting character and I totally agree with her point of view.

I Did It!

It’s 2:25  in the morning.  Tomorrow, let the revisions begin.

NaNoWriMo Progress Report: Another Excerpt

Okay, so next October if any of you hear me talking about doing NaNoWriMo again, someone please smack some sense into me.  It seems like almost every moment I am not at work, I am at my computer writing.   My home is a mess (more so than usual) and I just now got around to doing some laundry.   There is, fortunately, an end in sight.  As I type this I am at 42,503 words.   When I reach 50, 000 which I hope to be about Tuesday or Wednesday, I will not have finished the novel but at least for the first time I have something meaty enough to work with for the next few months.   To me, that was the whole purpose of this month long exercise.

So, here’s a little excerpt.  Let me give you the background.  The heroine, Ani, is a member of a persecuted group of refugees, the Katulavans, who are being hidden among the townspeople of Timeron.   A small group of Akkadonian Guards (the bad guys) are interviewing people in the Timeron town square in hopes of finding to where these refugees have evacuated so they might apprehend them.   (Please don’t laugh at the names — you don’t know how hard it is to make up stuff like that).  Anyway, here goes:

“Have either one of you seen this man?”  The Guard showed them an image of Garrawon.  It was obvious that this was not a recent image.  Garrawon was only a teen in the image.

“This is a boy, sir,” Nula replied.

“Yes, this was taken a few years ago.  He is obviously older and now has a beard, so we’ve been told.”

Ani looked at the picture.  Garrawon had been right.  His “father” seemed not to have cared enough about him to even have a recent image of him — until now when Garrawon was missing and no longer under his control.

“No, I have not seen any man that resembles this boy.  Have you, Zera?”  Nula addressed Ani with a name common to Timeron females.

“Uh, no, Lady Nula, I haven’t.”

“What about Katulavans?  Have you seen any of them?” asked the Guard.

Ani feigned a laugh.  “Katties? Not around here, let me assure you.”

The Guard closely scrutinized Ani’s face. “And you haven’t seen any Katties on your travels?”

“Travels? I don’t know what you mean.  I don’t leave town all that often.”  Ani tried not to let her voice shake.

“You have the look of someone who has had a lot of sun.  It just occurred to me that you might have been on the roads around these parts and perhaps seen something unusual.”

Nula interjected.  “I am the domus’ healer and Zera is my assistant.  She spends a lot of time working in my medicinal garden.  She indeed gets a lot of sun but not from traveling.  My dear, you look a little pale.  Are you getting enough nourishment?  I have a special tea that would be just the thing to invigorate a young man like you.”  Nula lowered her voice “It will even help you with the ladies.”

The Guard straightened up.  “No, Madame Healer.  I am perfectly fine in that department. Thank you.”  The man closed his writing pad.  “You’ve been very helpful.  I appreciate your time.”  Then he hurried away.

Ani suppressed a laugh.  “Oh, Nula, you are so bad.”

“Yes, I most certainly am,” she replied.

Thanks for reading.

L.Gloyd.

This excerpt and the characters and names therein are copyrighted by Lori Gloyd (c) 2009 and may not be used without permission.

NaNoWrimo Progress Report: A couple of excerpts

It is the wee small hours of the morning on Day 14 of my great novel-writing experiment.  I did crack the halfway point yesterday but I did not get as far today as I had hoped.  I found myself sketching characters and falling asleep on the sofa this evening rather than writing.  I really need to get cracking tomorrow.

I thought I would give you a couple of excerpts that introduce my two main characters.   The heroine has been strapped with the responsibility of taking care of a group of refugees who are hiding out from the “bad guys”,  the technological sophisticates who want to enslave these people.  The hero is the local nobleman who has come to lead them all to a safe place.  The hero and heroine first meet in chapter 1 when he catches her siphoning off energy from his stash.    They knock the snot out of each other (literally).  Not the best way to start off a relationship.

So in this first excerpt, the hero has come to evacuate the refugees.  They officially meet but this too disintegrates into a cat-and-dog encounter.   The heroine stomps off in a huff and he comes after her.  Here is what happens next:

Ailen rode up beside her.  His face was stern.   Anihinda said, “As you can see, we are mostly packed.  They just need to load up their hearth stones.”

Ailen nodded.  “Uh-huh.”

“As I said before, we do need some help moving the altar stone.”

Ailen dismounted and ordered four of his men to start loading the stone into one of the wagons.

“Anything else, Madame?” he said with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Lord Timeron –“

“You can call me Ailen.”

“Ailen…look, I’m sor— well, what I mean is, we’re very grate—“   She stopped again. He was looking at her with bemusement forming on his face.

“What I mean to say is —“

“I know what you’re trying to say:  ‘Ailen, you were right and I was wrong and I’m very thankful you are here to save us.’”

Anihinda slid off of Syren.  “You’re an insufferable ass.”

“You’ve determined this after just ten minutes?  It takes most people about fifteen.”  He was broadly grinning.

Anihinda shook her head and fought back a smile of her own.

***

The hero and heroine do actually stop sniping at each other long enough to start appreciating each other.  In this second excerpt,  the heroine who has the ability to heal with her hands (think Reiki on steroids) assists a refugee:

They came to a small cart.  A woman knelt next to it cradling an elderly man who was propped up against the wheel.    The man’s face was pale, and his breathing was rough and uneven.  The woman said, “Lady, he started feeling poorly a couple of hours ago.  He seems worse now.  Are you able help him?”  Her face was knitted with concern.

Anihinda knelt down next to the man and laid her hand on his forehead.  He was not hot with fever; in fact, he was cold and clammy.  She closed her eyes and began to feel for his life force, a small orange ball that rested behind the navel.   Scanning with her mind, she found it.  It was diminished, common for a man of advanced age, but it held a steady glow.  Her mind engaged it and she imagined the ball getting stronger and brighter.  She began to breathe deeply, and after a moment, the old man’s breathing fell in sync with hers.  His breath lost its raggedness and became deep and relaxed.   She picked up his wrist and felt his pulse.  It was strong and steady.  A moment later, he relaxed and drifted to sleep.

Anihinda let go of his hand and opened her eyes.  “He’ll be fine now.  He’s just tired.  This was a pretty rough day for someone his age.”

The woman took Ahihinda’s hand, “Thank you, Lady, thank you. Marahinda said you would be able to help him.”

“You’re welcome.”  She was a little uneasy the reputation Marahinda was building for her among the people.  She said to the woman, “Now, you need to get yourself something to eat and some rest as well.  It has been a hard day for all of us.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  The woman gently laid the old man’s head down and slid a cushion behind it.  She pulled a pot from the bundle of her cart and headed off to the creek to get some water.

Anihinda stood up and looked around for Ailen.  He had moved off and was leaning against the adjacent cart.  He had a look on his face that she could not determine.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t mean to stare.   I’ve never seen a healer actually work before.  Aunt Nula usually chases us out when she is with a patient.”

“I’m not a healer.”

***

Okay, so it’s not going to win a Pulitzer, at least not yet.  It’s a rough draft and needs a lot of revision.

I’m at a point where the plot has settled into place.  I hope I can reach my 50,000 mark by the end of the month, but I figure even if I don’t reach the word count, I will have come out of this with more of a novel than if I had never tried.

Thanks for all you kind words of support.

Lori

These excerpts and the names and characters mentioned therein are copyrighted by Lori Gloyd (c) 2009 and may not be used without permission.

Sketch:  “Anihinda”,  Pencil on paper.  L Gloyd (c) 2009

NaNoWriMo Progress Report: Story Synopsis

Today is Day 6 of National Novel Writing Month and as I type this I stand at 10,319 words.   In a nutshell, I am writing a science fiction novel, with the science part being somewhat spurious.   This first draft is chock-full of every cliche’ imaginable from t.v. shows and action/adventure movies.  I’ve got the headstrong woman who clashes with the insufferable, yet oh-so-cute, leading man, who looks amazingly like the character Ardeth Bey from the Mummy movies.  

I guess you would call the novel an allegory.  The working title is Timeron and it is the story of  a once-upon-a-time technologically sophisticated society in an alternate earth time-line.  Its infrastructure is powered by the earth’s electro-magnetic energy which can only be channelled by individuals sensitive to this earth energy.  So what happens when this society has a shortage of such gifted individuals who can access this energy and there are no longer technicians who can repair the technology fueled by this energy?  That society falls apart and leaves groups of haves and have-nots who suddenly engage each other in terrible ways.  It leaves a society where science was once revered and now is feared by some as “magick.”  (I really hope no one has ever written a story like this before — if so, someone please let me know!)

Does that sound a little bit like something right out of the front-page news?  Fuel shortages, infrastructure collapse, social and political instability?   I did not intend for that to happen.  I really have no plot as I write the novel,  but the characters have taken off in that direction and I’m just along for the ride. 

I don’t know if I am going to finish this story.  It is labor intensive.  I write about 4 hours to achieve about 2000 words a day.  I don’t want to get behind because I know I will stay behind if I do.

I want to say that if it had not been for the discipline of a daily writing habit that I developed over the past three years working with the abundance of writing prompts and inspiration at Heather Blakey’s Soul Food Cafe (http://www.dailywriting.net/), I would not have even considered engaging in this project. 

Check back here for regularly progress reports. 

Thanks for all the support.

Getting Ready for NaNoWriMo

Well, now I’ve done it.  I signed up as an official participant in the 2009 NaNoWriMo.  NaNoWriMo is short for National Novel Writing Month.  Participants start at 12:01 am on November 1 and have until 11:59 on November 30 to write a 50,000 word novel.  If you win, you get nothing more than bragging rights and the satisfaction that you have now written that novel you have always said you would.    No one is going to read your novel, and considering you wrote 50,000 words in 30 days, that novel is going be in sore need of  multiple re-writes before you can ever even consider submitting it for publication.

Chris Baty, author of No Plot, No Problem, is the instigator of NaNoWriMo.  In his book, he advises in preparation for the month that one acquire a notebook, a “magical pen”, a word processing device, a totem, and special clothes, such as a hat,  to wear while writing.   This is all to make the process of writing the novel special.

I do have a word processing device so that’s covered.   I am making notes in a ordinary composition book that I have decorated for the occasion with the picture of a toilet — a toilet because this notebook is a big dump of my ideas.  There is nothing clean and neat about the inside of this notebook.  When I have a thought about the story, I jot it down.  It’s perfect

I don’t think I’ll  wear special clothes either — that would be too distracting.  But don’t worry, I won’t write naked either, if that thought came to your mind.  No, sweats and a t-shirt, that’s the most comfortable ensemble for me.

I might have a totem, though.  I’ve always been partial to pelicans.  I have this alebrije, a little Oaxacan wood carving of a pelican, brightly painted and just perfect to set above my computer.  Yep, he’s going to sit there and cheer me on when I get stuck.

I think the one special thing that I will go out and buy today is a “magical pen”.  Borders and Barnes and Noble always have some cool pens next to the check-stand so I might splurge on a fancy pen just to mark the occasion and kick off the month.

I think one more thing is needed to start the month.  First a time of reflection.  Recently, I discovered the library in a neighboring city.  What an amazing place… better than the dumpy library in my town.  So I acquired a card and am going there this morning to sit in the stacks, read up on some material I need to start the novel, and just be in a quiet, literary space to contemplate the undertaking.

Second, a celebration is always needed whenever a special undertaking initiates…. I’m getting together with some friends tonight for Halloween.  It seems appropriate since Halloween is the celebration of the Celtic New Year.   It seems to me the perfect send-off for a month of monastic-like seriousness.

So, if you don’t hear from me for a while, you’ll know what I’m doing.   I hope I reach 50,000 words, but if I write only 500, that will be fine too

L.Gloyd (c) 2009

PS:  I’ll be posting my word count here on my blog (in the left column) so check back from time to time to see where I’m at.  Thanks.

Red Sky in Morning….

I was driving to work yesterday and pulled over to take this amazing sunrise image.   I did not manipulate the color on this photo in anyway.  It is as it was.    I couldn’t help the rhyme running through my head:  “Red sky at night, sailors’ delight; red sky in morning, sailors’ take warning.”   It did, however, turn out to be a very beautiful and bright autumn day.

L. Gloyd (c) 2009

El Dia de Los Muertos

The Day of the Dead celebration, El Dia de los Muertos, is a practice that goes back thousands of years in the cultures of the indigenous peoples of Mexico and Central America. When the Europeans came to this area, the celebration was blended with the observance of All Saints Day and All Souls Day on November 1 and 2. Elements of pre-Christian and Christian symbols were merged and the celebration became one where the observant remember their deceased loved ones. Today this celebration is observed in many Latin American countries as well as Latin American communities in North America.

I came across this Day of the Dead altar in my community. Passerbys were invited to write messages on pieces of cloth to honor and remember their loved ones and pin them to the altar. On the altar are marigolds which were sacred flowers to the ancient Aztecs, comical skeletons as a reminder that death is not to be feared, candles to represent life and hope, incense to purify the space, food as an offering to the deceased, and crosses to show that Jesus has triumphed over death.

 

L. Gloyd (c) 2009

Nazars in Hamsas

“Nazars in Hamsas: But the Real Protection is Underneath”

Mixed Media Painting

A little something from my art journal, inspired by a photograph by Traveller.    Thanks, Carol.

L. Gloyd (c) 2009

In the Sound Room

As I’ve mentioned before, a friend of mine has been installing a new sound system in our church, and I have been assisting him. Well, truth-be-told, my help mostly consists of keeping him company as he works, so that’s pretty much what I did after supper last night when we went up to the church to hook up and test a new microphone he had just acquired. It was around 9 p.m. when we arrived. As I have stated in previous accounts, I never, ever go up into the church sanctuary alone at night, and even with a companion, I was still a bit jittery. Every creak of the old building had me swinging my head around and looking for phantoms.

There is a security camera mounted high in the sanctuary and the various technical paraphernalia associated with the camera are in the same room as the sound equipment. My friend was curious to see how well the camera worked at night. (Wouldn’t be much of a security camera if it didn’t work, right?), so he flipped off all the lights in the sanctuary, and we crowded around the closed-circuit monitor. We were quite pleased to see that the camera’s infra-red capabilities actually showed clearer images in the darkness than during the day. Satisfied with the camera, my friend started busying himself with the new mic. I stayed in the chair in front of the monitor and made small talk. A few minutes later I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye. I pulled my full attention back to the monitor and watched.

Out of nowhere a white blob emerged in the middle of screen, flared for a moment, and then disappeared.

“What was that?”

My friend stepped back over and looked over my shoulder at the monitor. “What?”

No sooner did he say that when the white blob flared again.

“That! Did you see that?!” A couple of more orbs flitted across the monitor. “Orbs! Lots of them!”

“Oh, Lori! Do not start using the ‘G-word.’ The place is not haunted.” He made a short explanation of the effects of ambient light and dust particles on an infra-red camera. It sure didn’t look like dust particles to me.

I told my friend that if the SyFy Channel ever needed another de-bunker for the Ghost Hunters show, he would be a perfect candidate. Of course, this did not stop my friend from hurrying over to the circuit breaker box and turning on all the lights in the sanctuary.

The sanctuary now being fully illuminated, there were no more “dust particles” on the monitor. My friend returned to his puttering with the new mic, and I dug up some games on an old PC in the sound room to amuse myself. A few minutes later I heard some noises coming through an open window in the sound room. I asked my friend who was closest to the window, “Do you see anyone in the courtyard?” He looked out the window and down to the courtyard (we were on the second floor). “There’s someone going into the church office,” he said.

“Is it the Pastor?” I asked.

“I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t make out any features.”

Great, I thought. Now we have shadow-people.

My friend left me in the sound room while he went out into the sanctuary to hook up the mic. As he worked, I started playing computer solitaire to pass the time.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang. I jumped up from the chair and screamed. My friend rushed back in. “What!”

I pointed to the corner of the room. “There was a loud noise from over there!”

“It was just the lid of my tool box…..” He went over to a heavy plastic hinged box, lifted the lid, and pressed it down. “Was that it?” It was the same sound. “I probably didn’t have the lid all the way up and it just fell on its own…” He lifted the lid halfway up and let it go. The hinges held the lid in place. It didn’t move. Finally, he had to push the lid down to make it shut. Gravity, my eye.

He quickly finished connecting the mic and we ran a few sound checks. With everything working properly and the hour getting late, we wrapped things up, locked up the church, and left. While loading things into the truck, my friend said, “Let’s go see if there’s anyone in the office.” We went around the back of the building. No surprise: the office was dark and deserted.

I am going to ask the pastor when I see him next if he was in the office last night. And I am so afraid of what his answer might be.

L. Gloyd (c) 2009

Playing Tourist

When we were kids, we rarely went up to Hollywood.  It was a seedy, tacky place of lowlife nightclubs, shady ladies, and other bizarre people.  But gentrification has set in and it’s become a trendy place to be, tourists not withstanding.  My sister and I took the subway up there yesterday and played tourists.    Here is my sister in a very touristy pose  in front of the Babylon Court at the Hollywood & Highland shopping center (home of the Kodak Theatre).

The court is a tribute to D.W.  Griffth’s vision of Babylon in his 1916 film Intolerance.

We strolled along the Hollywood Walk of Fame:

and ended up in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre,

where we encountered some interesting folks:

Now let me just say something about this.  These are actors who on their own (not paid for or endorsed by the theatres or local businesses) just show up each day in front of the Kodak and Grauman’s and pose with tourists for tips.  This is fair — except they don’t tell you they want tips until after your snap the picture.    My sister and I found this out when we got chewed out by an obnoxious little man dressed up as Chaplin.  It was very bizarre since neither my sister or I took a picture of him and didn’t intend to take a picture of him.   He just started mouthing off at us for not taking his picture and tipping him.    Anyway….. only in Hollywood, I guess.

Here’s one more image I took especially for my colleague Heather who lives in Australia:

I thought you would like that, Heather. 

Signing off,

Your Hollywood reporter……

LJG. (c) 2009

Radiant Lenore

This is my visual rendition of a passage from Poe’s The Raven, where the narrator laments over, and is haunted by, his lost love, Lenore.

…Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ — Edgar Allan Poe

L. Gloyd (c) 2009

Some photographic elements are from Morguefile.com; others taken by me.

Let Us Not Forget

In memory of the victims

and their families

September 11, 2001

World Trade Center, late 80’s

Lori Gloyd (c) 2006-2009

Fire Storm

There is a wild fire in the Angeles National Forest.  Usually, when there are such fires, the smoke makes a yellow ashy haze.  I’ve never seen smoke form clouds like this.   One report I heard says that the smoke plumes are about 25,000 feet high.    It looks more like a volcanic explosion.  This is a bad one, folks.  Already people have died and homes have been destroyed.  The fire is heading towards a mountain top that has all the local radio and television broadcast transmission towers.  They most likely will burn and some of our communications will be disrupted.

It is sooooo hot but it is supposed to cool down this week.  I hope so.