A Mind in Motion

         Music has always had a way with me. It's like it grabs my imagination, with each instrument and rhythmic beat, and takes it on a journey from one story to the next. Often lyrics tell the story the music wants you to know, while instrumental pieces themselves give you the freedom of exploration in interpretation.      There is a particular song, lately, that I have fallen in love with.  Experiences by Ludovico Einaudi  seems to sweep me up, splashing from one scenario into the next like a never ending dreamscape. It doesn't just tug at me artistically, but emotionally as well. The journeys that seem to unfold out of nowhere are beautiful, tragic and achingly honest.      Perhaps it is just the way the strings of the violins come together with the steady pace of the piano. Maybe it's the tender moments of quiet in an otherwise resounding piece that nestle in my mind and begs me along. Maybe I just experience mu...

     They carried on--their masks coin bound, their poisons quick, their daggers sharp--the beat of their drums and lyrical guitars swaying bodies in rhythm to deals made in the dark.       Assassins of beauty and grace in the honest lines of smiling faces, they sweep into balls and creep into chambers leaving nothing but ghosts of their misdeeds screaming of plunder.       And always they carry on--moving forward to the next town--to another series of faces enraptured by the mystic of their wagons and temporarily relieved to be free of the sins of their crown.      Their feet never rest, the cloud of Dust that trails behind them never tires--they never hunger for more than their needs, though their hidden treasures rattle with gold and sapphire.      They sing into the night, haunting melodies licked by flames, of days gone by so their history remains. They know not when, if ever, they'll settle, ...

     Time Travel fascinates me.      Especially when it is a part of a much bigger notion or tool in a story. It's often used as a means to fix something or reach an axis point where the direction of a moment can be encouraged onto a new path. The conditions or the reasoning are often selfish, even hidden under the guise of doing so for " the greater good" . On rare occasions, the traveler(s) are also curious explorers, fascinated (like me) by the many ripples that exist even within a fraction of a second of time.      But what if a traveler or two are just individuals who have accidentally crossed paths and, drawn by strong emotions, like love, find themselves breaking the barriers of time over and over again to forge moments together? What if they defy the notions that they could never be together like tragic star ( or in this case time) crossed lovers and don't just travel through those ripples but literally build new bridges wher...

     There are certain lines or mingling of words you hear that just reach into you. They inspire, tingle your senses, and tug on your emotions. It's like your mind never realized, until that very moment, that you needed to hear those words, that you had been missing out on their effect upon you. Sometimes they are a line from a book, a lyric in a song, or a simple misunderstanding of words in a conversation that nevertheless stay with you.      For me, it was a song lyric. Apparently the singer has an accent and it was influencing the way I heard the words. It wasn't until I looked it up that I realized I was wrong in what I was hearing and then I was disappointed. The song had moved me, I was drawn to it, but only because I had heard the refrain wrong. Still, I couldn't let the words go. I had to put them down. And then they inspired me on to a second line, to give them a place or purpose that I had previously felt.       "I hold you do...

An excerpt from The Diary of Mina Lifetimes have passed since I have put words to paper, I dare say even, since I have been brave enough to share my voice with others. Nay, I have not been mute all these years, but I have left my internal struggles unspoken. Until now. I cannot hold the devils tongue that cries so loudly for me to share the world I have come to live in any longer. Though once vial and the damming fiend that took my soul, he is now my only true companion, a lover that has never left my bed nor my side. His whispered desires turned me away from the life I once lead and pulled me across oceans and vast mountainscapes to this still foreign country I call home. As I write this, recounting so many years gone by, I am sharing space with three ghosts who occupy, not just this very room, but so much more than time. Their voices are just as loud as his, each with tales so tragic, so heartbreaking I fear that once I have shared them all I too will break, but I can...

Frustration. That is a word I see being used more and more today by audiences, whether they are reading a book, watching a movie or binging on a web and/or tv series. They are frustrated--with the story, the characters, the writing style, the special effects--you name it, they have a frustration about it. Funny thing is, growing up as a kid, a teenager and then as a young adult, I found very little frustrations in stories myself. Even as a budding writer, I had few issues with whatever entertainment caught my interest. So what's changed? Is it us? Is it them? Is it all of the above? I don't know. I've previously talked about the changes I have seen in storytelling on my  tunblr  and how the  Dorothy Implicit Characterization  has been affected by it. But now, sitting here as I've done more writing in the last year than I have since my childhood, I'm wondering about the responsibility of the writer in making sure our character's construct is clear a...