Well, this is quite the benchmark. When I started this little blog, I never imagined that I’d be 130 posts in and still be finding things to jabber on about. I suppose it’s kind of similar to how a novel gets written. Sure, you have your plot, you have your basic characters, but you never know exactly how long it’ll be when finished, or how those characters will develop in the dire straits you place them in. I certainly don’t! While writing Greaveburn, I didnt know how it was going to end, or even how the second part was going to go. I think that’s the benefit of a blog; it’s open ended. While Greaveburn had to have a THE END, the blog keeps rolling out. And hopefully, it’ll keep on rolling as other novels and stories are written and published for you all to peruse.
With this post, I think I should do something I haven’t done in a while. This post is going to be about other people, rather than me and my characters (coz, in the end, who wants to listen to my drivel any more anyway?). So, without much further ado, here’s the first recommendation. A local (to me, at least) poet and writer who deserves some recognition. If it’s poetry and I can actually read it, it MUST be good. So here she is…Stacey aka Eve Redwater of Redwater Ramblings. Here’s one of her poems that has my appreciation:
My mother always said, That the milkman was the devil. The way he comes a'clinking, Every day at hellish hours, That horrid, loathsome rattling. That way he chugs Without a care. And we collect him, wordlessly- Grabbing necks, without thinking; Catching souls who are the last - Or are the first - to reach the steps, At darkish hours, even if the world Outside Is bitter with a cold. For all you know, He's sneezed his way throughout his life. For all you know, He's maybe sneezed into the glasses He so lovingly arranges, On every step, on every path- With a sultry smile that says: "I've seen your face somewhere before." He's grinning at the housewives, While snorting at their children Playing goose with their little shadows, As they run the street at midnight. In his stubby vehicle, he brakes before the Headlights Meets with their milky faces... A good excuse to take them home to wives, Without their precious lambs. Smiling As he spans the threshold Into your domain.
How creepy is that!? This poem literally gives me the willies. If I could have pilfered any poem to include in Not Before Bed it would have been this one. Lucky for Miss Redwater, I’m not the plagiarist type. You should definitely check out her other stuff. It’s all as good, and not al as dark. I just liked this one with my horror-adled mind.
Now, what else shall we talk about? As I try to decide, here’s a picture of a sandwich…
Tell me you didnt just get a little flutter of giddy, like you’ve just watched Molly Ringwald walk into the dance in Pretty in Pink, or when Cameron takes the heat for the trashed Ferrari in Ferris Bueler’s Day Off. Yeah, you can feel it can’t you?
Now, for the ultimate in variety, we go from poetry to music (via a bacon sandwich) to some great artwork. Images that have given me a little tingle lately:
Tell me you dont want to run out and get your Steampunk on after seeing that. What an incredible image. Next:
Talk about atmosphere! These are images I came across while looking for ideas for the cover of Greaveburn. There are others, but these two really stood out. Wouldn’t the word GREAVEBURN in gold across the top of these images look awesome? Hell, I’d buy it. But I’m biased hahaha. And finally I’ll leave you with an image that really moved me to strong emotion…that of laughter. I give you Phil Collins: The Younger Years
Thanks for dropping by the 130th Celebration! And, as always, thanks for reading!