The Importance of Slowing Down

So, this past weekend was Labor Day… and as any of you who celebrate it know– it’s meant for anything BUT labor.

I went “upnorth” as us Michiganders say, to Gaylord with my lovely Greg and his family.

Inevitably… like any time I take a slight haitus from the everyday hustle and bustle of life, I found a strengthening in my belief of the power of relaxation and disconnection from stress/ routine.

Often times I find myself stressing for no reason.

Okay head, what’s going on?

No response.

You’ve got homework…school…work…a bit of a family crisis

Hum of panic begins brewing.

Hey hey hey! But it’s nothing we can’t tackle like we have a million times before right?

And still… no answer, just a lingering sense of discomfort that threatens to grow hourly.

My mind doesn’t answer, because I’m still working full speed. I believe full well in the saying “Dreams don’t work unless you do”, so I’m always throttling full speed ahead– completing classwork, building a portfolio, working, blogging, and balancing my world of 300 some minions… all the while trying to make room for relationships and “normal” life.

But here’s the kicker: In order to experience life and hold substance behind our voice, we must slow down and live in the moment. It is only then that we are truly open to everything around us. 

Watching Fred (Greg’s pup)… it hit me. The scene was gorgeous. Not because he’s the beautifully handsome little man he is, but because he wasn’t concerning himself with anything other than what was happening right here, right now. 

I practiced Fred’s way of life completely for those two days… and what happened was breathtaking.

Soubi, a character of mine I have known for 11 years now stayed with me for the entire time. I learned the truth behind his life before me… wiped away false tales I had thought I heard in the past… found his mother and father who I didn’t believe were alive… and truly… really connected.

Because of this past weekend I have un-erasable and irreplaceable memories and experiences with him that have grown a better foundation to our friendship and ability to communicate.

That ability… to slow down and LISTEN… is the best tool I can possibly offer you to connecting with your characters and writing. It is priceless and will shape not only the way you write, but the way you live.

So instead of scripting out dialogue and scratching your head over where to go next or how so-and-so would react… listen to so-and-so! Let them tell you. Build a relationship with that person and part of yourself and open your own door to the world inside your mind.

 

That’s all folks! Join me next time!

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~Fioza

 

 

 

Chains of the Past

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“Shit” thought Aubrey. “Blood stained… bruised cat fur. That’s what it looks like” she decided looking at the skin on her arm absent mindedly for what must have been the fifth time since the sun came up that day. Twitching the muscles in her right hand, she waited for any response from her pointer finger- though the effort was fruitless. A thin drape of animal hides fell straight into the palm of her hand as the snow gusts outside blew the wall of the tent back to its rightful position. “How many times” she wondered, “can it look like that before it stops working”?

True, today was one of the better days. At least this time she had a delicate, dancing company from the baby fire in the corner furthest from where she laid. She sent out a mental plea for the fire to avert its face- as if to preserve its light. She stole a glance of warmth just before the body attempting to smash itself into hers shifted weight to get a better angle. She tilted her head back and resumed staring at the hole in the ceiling to avoid the wall of stench that had threatened to fill her nostrils. A few more awkward movements and the man was finished. Back to pulling up his wolf skin trousers. Back to tidying up the wrinkles and erasing the evidence. Back to his day like he had just taken nothing more than a food break.

“Thanks lady” the man slobbered, rubbing his sweaty cheek against hers. “Or should I say lentleman” the man laughed as he grabbed the penis- awkward and out of place dangling between her legs. Aubrey winced as Wolf Trousers turned his back and walked out of the tent confronting the icy tundra. A deafening silence flooded into the room as the door flapped shut, thickening with each breath and threatening to choke her. She was aware of her golden, messed locks of hair dreading beneath spit in her mouth. Even more, she was aware of the warmth streaming in small springs down her cheeks to the sides of her face– and yet, she felt nothing… heard nothing… said nothing. When had she stopped feeling, she wondered? Had she ever felt at all?

 

***This is the beginning excerpt of one of my novels,  Aubrey. The picture is also an original concept sketch of her. Please let me know… is this put too profanely? I suppose I don’t write about things this graphic often so I’d love some feedback 🙂 ***