Be A Bookmark

People are like bookmarks.

          Or at least, that’s what I’ve started to think, for many reasons. For instance, everyone is double sided, and you can only see one of these sides at a time. Also, everyone is made up the content that is displayed on the outside, and a whole lot more that you can’t see just from the surface. Continuing with this thought, we are all stuck in one place in our lives, the same as a bookmark can only be stuck in one place in a book at a time.

          Like bookmarks, we’re all useful and different. We’re all stuck into different worlds, different lives, and display different content.

          Yet, remarkably, we’re all the same. Our greatest, overall purpose is the same from person to person, all around the world. We were created to do the same thing. Like a bookmark’s purpose is to hold your place in a book, we were all created to glorify God and love Him and be His.

          And, like bookmarks, sometimes we stray from our purpose. Bookmarks can end up on the floor, in drawers, under beds, on top of refrigerators, outside, and in who knows how many other places. When they aren’t fulfilling their purpose, they’re useless. They become bent, ripped, torn, dented, and ruined. Crushed by the weight of all the things around them, stepped on, and forgotten.

          When they are used for their purpose, however, they’re lovingly, safely pressed between two pages. They remain straight and, when properly cared for, unbent, unripped, and unsoiled.

          Likewise, when we’re not fulfilling our purpose, we can become crushed by the weight of things in this world. We can become those bent, ripped, broken things, laying forgotten in some corner of the world.

          However, when we’re fulfilling our purpose as God’s children, He carefully cradles us in His hands. He protects us, takes care of us, and mends us if we stray from His Word and become bent.

          Don’t be a bookmark under the bed.

          Be a bookmark in a book.

Azalei's Riders - Poster

Lately I have been navigating the world of Photoshop, figuring out how to create promotional pieces for my new book. I've never had any training in it, but as my dad always says, "Look it up on YouTube." Surprisingly, he's correct. I've found most of what I couldn't learn on my own on YouTube through instructional videos.

Anyway, this poster is one of my newest attempts.

Writing - Science Or Art?

 

 

          “Where has the art in writing gone?” I often ask myself, as I scroll through page after page of writing articles. “Where has the freedom in it been sent?” I ask as I skim paper after paper.

          Things such as ‘italics make you amateur’, ‘you must follow an outline’, ‘your plot must include…’ etc., fill my vision. Everyone has an opinion, everyone has a do or don’t do list, and everyone states these as absolute fact. With every article they place before me, and every book claiming to be the perfect guide to writing, and with every lecture I hear, it becomes more and more firmly placed in my mind that they’re taking the joy out of writing.

          You see, for some reason, our world has turned writing into a science. A perfect, well-measured, perfectly placed, everything-in-order science. The critics are everywhere, cutting down every method of writing imaginable, all trying to fit it into the box that is their own opinion on how it should be done.

          While some of these tools are useful, you can read two separate articles on the same topic, and find two completely contradicting opinions masquerading as fact. Is it any wonder that many people feel overwhelmed by the idea of putting words to paper, when so much is required?

          I look back on the classical writers of our pasts, who were given the freedom to invent their own words, misspell words for the purpose of making them more eloquent, and experimented with their own forms of distinguishing dialogue, thought, and narration. Then I wonder why those same freedoms have been crushed between the weight of creating a ‘perfect’ book.

          When did writing stop being an art?

          When did writing become a science?

          Even the idea of using actual numbers instead of their word equivalent is unheard of, despite it only being a stylistic choice. I know this from experience, as I just published my first novel recently and decided to use this stylistic change to make my book more unique, and already have heard many people call it an amateur mistake. If everyone can still tell what you mean by an alteration to the usual format, why is it such a big deal in our minds? If it is still something we can understand, is it really such an outlandish idea to change up the way things are done, now and then?

          We say we’re such an open-minded people, who accept doing things differently, who claim to applaud those who try new things. Yet, when it comes to writing, these things are considered not only wrong, but condemning. Only an amateur would make such ‘mistakes’, we say.

          Then is the Bible written by an amateur?

          Are all of the classical works?

          Is Shakespeare considered full of errors and holes?

          It just makes me wonder how many people are out there, who given the chance would be amazing storytellers, and yet remain hidden beneath the layers and layers of rules and regulations. It makes me question if there’s another of our great classical writers out there now, who has not sent his or her work out into the world for the fear of criticism. I wonder if their work will ever be noticed, hundreds of years from now, and appreciated, as Van Gogh’s paintings were considered outlandish and odd in his time, and appreciated in ours.

          I’m not saying everyone with a manuscript of gibberish should be an author. The rules of grammar, for the most part, should be used so that books are readable. Commas, periods, question marks, etc., should be used with care and understanding. But I question, many times to myself, why many of the other rules exist at all.

If it does not create confusion in the minds of your readers, is it really a rule, or a preference set forth by those before?

Azalei's Riders - A Sneak Peek

Recently, I published my first book (Azalei's Riders) on Amazon Kindle. I thought I'd share a little more about it on here, and then preceded to think, "What better way is there than to let them see some of the content?" So here are 10 of my favorite quotes from the book.

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If you enjoyed this and would like to purchase a copy of the book, you can find it on Amazon or simply follow this link. Azalei's Riders - The Fire Rain Chronicles - Purchase

The Answer Breeze - A Poem

 

The wind flies across the plain,

 It dashes through the trees,

 It flutters passed the lazy creek,

 It plays with the bumble bees.

 

Then, in its ever present march,

 It zips on to the mountains,

 It echoes in the hollow caves,

 It splashes in the fountains.

 

And, still, still, still,

 It continues on its way,

 Until still it reaches,

 Where a child prays.

 

 

A quiet tear rolls down her cheek,

 She's as still as still can be,

 All but her lips, which move again,

 Eyes lifted so clouds they see.

 

She's kneeling in the grass and dirt,

 Waiting, waiting, waiting...

 Where is the answer to her prayer?

 It is waiting, waiting, waiting...

 

Waiting, waiting, waiting for what,

 While flying, floating, zipping, bending?

 Waiting for the child to see this:

 That it is here, her tears for mending.

 

You see, the child's prayer was simple,

 She wished for a soothing hand,

 So Jesus sent her, her very own,

 A breeze, a wind, around her to land.

 

He'd planned it days and days ago,

 And sent it a long, long ways,

 Over all sorts of countryside,

 And through many difficult maze.

 

And it got there just in time, oh yes,

 As her small prayer went up,

 "Jesus, just one small sign,"

 She prayed, with overflowing cup.

 

And that small, valiant breeze,

 Over and around her flew,

 It stroked her hair,

 Brushed her cheek,

 And tickled her toes, too!

 

But she didn't hardly even notice,

 Because praying too hard was she,

 She angrily told it to stop, and right now,

 His answer to never feel...or see.

 

© Miranda Marie 2016