Tag Archives: Writer

My Heart and the Alien – A Poem


fourchambers

My Heart and the Alien –

I have a four chambered heart much like most everyone else,

I am a nerd in one heart,

a romantic in the next,

a perv in the third,

a  dreamer in the last.

I am fading into your moody blue alien eyes.

as the cold night embraces an already

cold day.

All the chambers of my heart smile

back at you.

And beat with an unnatural warmth not

found on this earth.

You don’t belong here on this world,

and you are soon to leave.

Forever.

For that reason alone, I wish the

the sections of my heart would quiet itself

Each beat in quarter time to a tune

I do not recognize anymore since your

presence came to town.

Please leave soon on the next

spaceship out.

My heart is at war

and may soon burn it

self up.

Take to the stars, and then

and only then, can

my heart look to

them without doubt.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Novel Excerpt – Meet one of my characters “Ivy”


Below is an excerpt from my  novel, The Fourth World, for which I am looking to finish up soon. I wanted to introduce to you, another one of the next main protagonists in the story. A young woman that goes by the name of Ivy.

Soon in the days, I will introduce  you to another main character, Calvin in my novel.

I am about twenty-thousand words into my novel and hope to get to forty thousand by mid-January if not sooner. Hope you enjoy this little bit here of it.  Please keep in mind this is a rough cut introduction to her in the story and will definitely be reworked and tweaked a few more times before the novel is all said and done I’m sure. Let me know what you think of it.

Chapter 4 – Ivy’s Long Walk

Ivy kicked at a small rock on the dirt road she walked that led up to her new home off the main highway. She had started to love the walks from where the bus dropped her off daily after school to home. The walk gave her a small reprieve between both worlds, the first being school and all the people there, the other of her home and the people there as well.

Where it would take most people ten minutes to walk the drive, she took at least double that.  She had refused her parents offer of having her taken to and from school by their driver. She already stood out enough in school as it was. She just wanted to fade into the back ground while there as much as she could. A rich, imposing dark sedan pulling up at the school everyday would do exactly the opposite of not reminding the kids there, that she was just like them. Yeah, right.

She had even tried to dress down as to not make the rest of the students, especially the girls, think she was a snob for coming to school in the latest expensive fashions.  No such luck; the first morning of school she had walked down stairs wearing just a jeans and t-shirt, her mom about had an epileptic attack at the breakfast table. Apparently if the ensemble cost less than two-hundred dollars, and that was not including the shoes, it wasn’t fit to wear except for laying around the house; when no one was else around mind you. At first, Ivy had fought it every school morning, but it ended up being a draining knock down fight with her every time she went to school. She didn’t want to stand out, couldn’t they see that? They never saw the big picture, she thought bitterly.

Ivy outsmarted them though. She layered up. She started picking out all her clothes the night before. Laying first, her mom’s ensemble on the bed. Then her own ensemble she wanted to wear at school. She mostly wore her things under her  “approved apparel”, at other times she would just carefully fold up her stuff in her book bag and change on the road going out or discreetly on the bus as she was one of the first ones to be picked up in the morning. Many a time in the early morning if you had happened to be a bird sitting in a tree on that road you would see a girl doing a quick change routine, flinging off one thing then putting on another. She had it down to an art form already. Where most girls wanted to stand out and wear the nicest clothes and make-up and have there hair perfect before leaving the house. She ran from it as much as she could get away with.

These walks in their own small way were meditative. Each way, coming or going cleansed her of the previous nights or days encounters at home or school and prepared her for the transition into either.

On both sides she was flanked by tall pines, and spruce. The air smelled of them and assailed her nose fully as the wind blew through them. The sun sat low in the west this late in the fall season, but still shone brightly through the tangled mass of trees upon its track towards the horizon. Soon, day-light saving times would come, and time would fall back for them an hour, what a weird concept, almost laughable, like you could control time in such a way. She worried though,  these walks might be taken from her, at least the mornings. The time-change would make the road dark for  her morning walk to her bus stop. She feared her parents would insist on having their driver take her the distance to at least where the bus picked her up at the end of the road where it met the highway.

They can’t, she thought viciously. They just can’t take it from me. She found she needed it now. She kicked violently at another rock and bit her lip at the pain it inflicted. Serves you right, a negative for a negative as her old math teacher used to say.

Thinking of negatives, Omar, the rude boy from her English class and unfortunately her Science as well, came suddenly to mind. She tried to push him out, but he wouldn’t budge from her thoughts no matter how she tried.

“What an ass!”  she yelled at the trees as she continued to walk the road.

Calling me a bitch! Where did he get the nerve. She didn’t think she had been that rude.

But even so. She had seen his type before. Arrogant, surly,  bad news walking as her mom would have aptly put it. For the briefest of moments she had been afraid of him. She had thought she had conquered her fears. Her therapist had warned there could be triggers she might not be aware until it happened. The word “bitch” had been it for sure.  She wrapped her head around the word.

“Bitch.” she said it aloud. Her therapists said to take the power back by embracing the very thing that held it. So, she walked the road saying the word bitch over and over and over again like a mantra. She lost herself in the rhythm of the words unconsciously timing her own footsteps to the beat of the word. Left (Bitch), Right, Left  (Bitch) all the way down the road until she reached the very where dirt turned to asphalt and curved its way around to her house.

She would be ready next time if Omar or anyone said that word again. She would not show weakness ever again. She was in control of her destiny, no one dictated her course. Feelings or otherwise.

As she walked the curve of the drive to her home weight slowly lifted from her chest she knew had been there but couldn’t really define. Now she had realized what it was. Yes, the walks helped in such small ways. Her own private personal therapy. She couldn’t lose them, coming or going.

“Don’t you look determined Ms. Knight?”  a grizzled voice followed  by much more grizzled looking face popped up from behind the dark car sitting at the top of the drive as she approached it.

She smiled involuntarily at the old man, he was the only one who could catch her off guard like that and bring that out of her. He was also what made the house bearable to come home.

“Hello Max, shining up the car for the seventh time to day I see?” she said with a sly grin that wasn’t forced like with most others she talked with.

“Aha, you cheeky monkey.  If I was actually allowed to drive the Misses around I might not have to putz around this car like a car wash jockey on a daily basis now would I.” He returned the grin playfully with crinkled twinkle in his eyes for her.

“You’re to tall to be a jockey and a little to round around the middle Max,” she said.  “But don’t despair mon ami, I will need your grand chariot tonight” she said walking by and up the steps to the house.

“Or did you forget it was Thursday?” she said pausing at the door looking back at him smiling.

“Oh, I never forget an appointment Ms. Knight.”  He tipped his cap at her like he always did and smiled squinting in the sun which peeked at them both across the vast yard that was their property that the house sat on. She did like the view. Especially from her bedroom she could see forever a sea of trees as far as her green eyes could carry to the north.

“Good. Because tonight’s a special night you know. Did my parents say if they were going to make it there tonight Max?” Ivy looked at Max intently for an answer.

“I do know its a special night for more than one reason,”  He smiled up at her still squinting.  “Last I heard, they said their flight was on time. They should make it darlin’. I didn’t think you cared one way or other if they showed.” All smiles gone from his face his voice suddenly serious. Ivy knew Max was upset at what she had said to them before she had left.

She had grew to be upset with herself as well these last two days since they had left. Time and distance does funny things to feelings, she thought.

“Even I can admit to being an idiot sometimes.” she smiled shyly at him, not used to be called out by him. They usually got along so great at most times.

“Whoa, stop the presses, what’s that I be hearing? Ms. Ivy just shook the earth with that  bit of news. I wish I had thought to bring a witness for that admission.”  this time his smile returned in full force. And it warmed her deeply.

“Now be about your way lassie, oh, I almost forget. I scrimped up my pennies and bought you something. It’ll be on your bed. It’s nothing really. Just a token. Now don’t look at me that way. A girl doesn’t turn sixteen but once ya know and I’m an old man who can spend his money on anyone I please.”  he said stammering almost at the end.

Ivy smiled fondly at him. “Thank you.” she simply said and went inside not wanting to embarrass him further.

She ran up the two flights of stairs to her room. Every night was a hike to get to her room. What she wouldn’t give to live in a one room shack sometimes. Wealth, money, things, made her feel uncomfortable. For some reason, ever since she could remember she had felt this way. Like she didn’t deserve to have them. And today, on her sixteenth birthday, she felt no different. Except, she was excited. Max had given her a present! He had never given anyone a present. She could only imagine what it could be….

Ivy dropped her book bag next to her bedroom door inside her room as she always did. She slowly approached her bed, a big four poster queen sized bed  which she had always thought of as too soft. It was covered by a big white comforter with bits of yellow petaled flowers adorned  across the fabric with no discernible pattern. As she looked to the bed for her Max’s present she didn’t see it.  What she did see, was one fluffy gray haired cat with olive green eyes staring at her as it lay sprawled out in seeming decadent contentment. Ah, to be a cat.

“Well, well mister. I see you’re in about the same place I left you this morning.” Ivy walked over and crawled up on her bed. The cat didn’t move an inch in it’s leisurely pose, but only continued to stare at her approach as she laid down next to him on the bed.

Ivy reached out her hand and stroked the cats fur.  No sooner than had she finished her second  stroke did he decide to start purring loudly and flip over her on his back stretching his front and and legs out in one long stretch.

“Ah, what do we have here?” She said grabbing at a very thin box underneath her cat’s languishing body. 

“Why do cat’s always choose to find the one place on the bed that’s different than all the rest, hmmm Willy?”   she asked him. He of course did not answer. He did stand and walk across the bed to stare at her as if in question of his resting place being so disturbed as he proceeded to plomp down on her pillow for probably his tenth nap of the day.

Ivy looked at the box she held in her hands.  It measured approximately three by three inches square and only about half inch thick or so. Plain white wrapping paper covered it, tied with crisscrossing gold ribbons, along with a crushed gold bow (thanks to Willy) affixed in the center of it.

She removed the bow throwing it at her cat, who reached out with a lightening grab with one of his paws to trap it beneath him and the bed.

“Hmm, your fast when you want to be little boy.”  she smiled.

Ivy delicately pulled apart the ribbons removing each. She carefully pulled at the tape and the paper surrounding the box underneath.

A black velvety box revealed itself. She ran her hands over it’s surface just enjoying the texture under her fingertips. She eagerly pulled at the edges of the box.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw what it contained, a Hidari Gomon.

It was beautiful. She picked it up in her hands and noticed the heaviness of the piece. It must be made of bronze, she surmised.  It was a perfectly round disc made of a yellowy dull metal about an eighth of an inch thick. The front was engraved with what looked like three black commas encircling the each other, interlocking and forming what was called a triskelion or a motif that looked like three bent curved legs. The top of the symbol was punched through with a hole for the leather cord that held it to wear as a necklace.

Hidari Gomon

Her finger felt something on the back of the disc. More etching?

She flipped it over to read three words lightly engraved on its surface.

“Courage, Loyalty, Spirit.” she read out softly.

“It’s perfect.” She whispered to herself….

 

Hidari Gomon

 

The Brain…my impressions..I put to paper.


brain-health

They say when you see a person in your dreams and you see their face that means you MUST have seen them in real life.

The mind will NOT make up a face. Some person’s face you ran across made an impression upon your brain whether conscious or not.

They say 25% of people dream in black and white.   Another astounding fact is that they say 75% of people used to dream in black and white prior to color movies & television appearing as a norm.

What does that mean?

Our minds are so malleable it seems. Impressionable.

I look for those impressions….I seek them out.  In place, events, experiences, but mostly people.

You see, I want my writing to be REAL. As real as I can get it. The flow and rhythm of conversation. The give and take. The voice has to be right. Else, the story is ruined for me. I have to believe the character and the situation I put them in.

Yes, it  can be a fantasy and still be believable If I make you believe in it.

So I look for scenarios…places,  strange happenstances in real life… intriguing people. They may not even know they are intriguing. But they are.   I collect them all in here  (tapping the side of my skull with my finger now)  with this, my brain and catalog them for later.

So when I write.  I go to that well , that mega filing system of characters, places, things, events, and strangeness and  pull them up and out and  plop them into the story that fits. Like with most writers , it just comes. Journaling helps somewhat. It keeps the synapses firing and the memories sharper.

But mostly I just want to jump into things lately.  Experience it.  Anything new is the best…bring it on…  skinny dipping? I’m all for it.  Dancing…sign me up… Fencing with epee (sword)…I’ll take that class…more more more… I follow some of you bloggers, I have casual acquaintances on here and some I know pretty well through following and commenting and even emailing directly.

I want my brain to mingle in your flavor…taste it and get an impression of you….it’s fun to me.  I have made some friends through all this mingling of the minds I am happy to say and hope to make more.

So don’t be surprised as that almost old saying goes…be careful or you may end up in one of my novels…:)

NaNoWriMo First Fail for Me…..(and perhaps you as well?)


successkid

 

 

I’ve love this kid….

So I went to him and asked him what’s your secret. How do you do it?  Where do you get your gumption.. your gusto…your huptza.. because I needed it last night…

I didn’t get to the magic 1667 number of words for the day on the  NaNoWriMo contest yesterday.  I tried…but I think my mojo was way off. I did write and did progress, so that is something right Mr. Successful Baby? Successful baby? What’s wrong?

Oh, you have a fistful of sand in your mouth?….Got it.  I’ll just let msyself out….thanks …good talk Successful Baby….don’t worry I won’t let you down again…Promise

 

Images to JUMP start that brain for NaNoWriMo !!!


Don't be afraid  to embrace a stranger....meaning the words you haven't met just yet.
Don’t be afraid to embrace a stranger….meaning the words you haven’t met just yet.

NaNoWriMo Bitches!   and I cannot yell it loud enough!  (sorry I’m channeling Jessie from Breaking Bad there)

I thought I would root through the web for you guys and  JUMP START YOUR BRAIN;  to  INSPIRE, to PUSH, ENCOURAGE,   to SLAP you awake,  or to  SHAME you to write and KEEP WRITING!

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Whatever it takes to get you to keep writing I’ll do it …so don’t be a slacker….I mean it. That means you.  Who me?  Yeah I’m talking to you.  Get off that porn site or those fuzzy little kitties playing on  YouTube.   Or those Fuzzy little kitties watching porn…WHAT?…never mind…just turn it off and get to work!

Grump

We are already nearing the second week of the contest very soon,  that foot should still be on the gas pedal ….I don’t care if you’re  ahead of  the word count or not….no coasting BITCHES!

I pull out my Uzi and lay them low...one by one RAT TA TA TAT the words just flow...BOOM!
I pull out my Uzi and lay them low…one by one RAT TA TA TAT the words just flow…BOOM!

Like building something with Legos when you were a kid, you didn’t know what is was going to be, but that didn’t stop you.

Progress so far in my NaNoWriMo Contest – A Short Synopiss of my NOVEL


Working Title-   The Creature in the Culvert

Culvert

Calvin Williams is a very  intelligent  misunderstood teenage boy who is bullied constantly at school because of his eccentricities that mark him as different there. Him and his brother live with a mom who is doing her best to make it work.  A sometimes violent undependable  father lurks at the edge of his life causing more stress for his already stressful life. Through all this Calvin finds refuge in a world he has discovered. A magical world of his own making? Or is it something more?

Carlos Escobar, a tough kid, the youngest kid  from a big family with high expectations for him to make it when all the rest have not. But he has fallen in with two others that have brought out the worst in him in his need to rebel  against what others want of him. And there is secret which no ones about that is slowly causing him to unravel.

Elizabeth (Lizzy) Preston,  new student to Two Rivers High School,  she’s pretty, strong, intelligent, and driven  but comes from a past that leaves her guarded, and borderline paranoid of people’s real intentions. High school is just a stepping stone to get on with her life and get away from a family she can’t stand.

Three distinct individuals on three very different paths will find themselves slowly spiraling towards a new magical reality they could only dream and a darkness that has laid hidden for thousands of years but now has been awoken with designs of its own with all three of them at the center of it.

WORDS WRITTEN FOR NOVEL SO FAR –  5,700  Words

Excerpt below from start of Novel –

Calvin had always believed in magic. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. They could doubt all they wanted. There was a hidden world which we cannot see sitting right in front of our faces, most everyone was too busy, too blind, or too stupid to see it. Calvin saw it in the trees as the ethereal distance winds kissed the leaves as it flew through the branches. He spied it dancing in the fire amidst the embers at night; little tiny sprites hopping from log to log amidst the flames. He smelled it in a wild rose growing in a crowded field of jostling weeds flinging its pheromones to attract the butterflies to alight on its silken petals. He heard it in the babbling brook as the water played upon the rocks behind his home whispering to the frogs as it traveled on downriver. He felt it in the rough stone he caressed in the palm of his hand; an ancient power from ages past unearthed from the deep bowels of the earth from the crumblings of a mighty stone titan long dead. It was everywhere if you would only choose to see. The magic spoke to him because he chose to listen and he almost understood what it was saying

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And yes that slip in the title to my blog is intentional…:)

I appreciate my Followers


PLUM2G

Just wanted to let my followers know  I appreciate you hanging on and your support .  I am writing writing writing  as always…thanks for your likes and your occasional comments!

New Short story to come on here and as always working on  FIRST novel that I am so TRYING to get finished for this year and ready for submission to Publishers.

So keep following, more great things to come…:)

Six word story Challenge!


Timber!  Town Flooded.  Beaver ran away.

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How is a writer created? More specifically How did I come to want to be a Writer.


I love a good origin story when it comes to the hero. BUT I am NOT going to bore you with the biography of my “exciting life”.  I will however key you into the  start of how someone like me turned to wanting to write in the first place.(so perhaps I may still bore you but I will try to keep it exciting by throwing lots pictures at you so your brain doesn’t get too tired with my ramblings.)

I will start out my “story” with a question.   WHAT shapes a person in life?  That brings up the next question to me, Nature or Nurture?

To me the logical answer is both…duh? –

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See those guys there above in the picture?  They are my  brothers of which I have two of.  I am the one on the left (with the cool lean going on ).  They  definitely shaped my life.  Mainly because I was the middle kid of that trio growing up.  I looked to my older brother (middle kid in pic) to guide me in what I thought was the way you should act as a boy, guy, a man, because  our father died when I was twelve and he was all I had for a role model.

In the end, he only taught me how not to act, to which in itself  now that I look back,was helpful.  My younger brother only ever gave me a sense that I failed him somewhat because I think he looked to me, somewhat like I did to my older brother; for some direction. This time growing up with them was pivotal in my mind because it made me realize  that if you want to  find the answers to a problem when people are depending on you, you have to do it yourself, because no one else was going to do it for you.

Creature_Featurestwilight-zone

The next picture above was going to be a picture of my mom. But I thought better of it, because  she’s not the focus really in my little story,  just a character to the side really. Instead, I wanted to show my escape that I went to in the early years before and after my dad had died. My family life  was in shambles from probably the age of four.  I remember the fights, the plate smashing, the bitching by my mom, in how life was never good enough or how we lived in a hell-hole. (I loved my hell-hole of a house by the way..I knew no different) .   I only remember my Mom in all this because my Dad was always the quiet one.  He just would sit there on the couch or at the dining room table  and listen to her rants until she calmed down which always seemed to end in crying.

So I escaped ….I would watch shows like Creature Feature, Twilight Zone, Buck Rogers, Speed Racer, or Scooby Doo, ….I fell into the stories and the more the fantastic the better. The more removed from reality, the more engrossed I became and nothing could take me out of it. I was in that world while it lasted.  These were worlds  that I could understand more than the ones right inside my own home.

Spidermanspider-man-wallpaper

As I grew older, I’d say about ten years old, I came  to love comic books. I discovered them in a little book shop across the street from our new apartment house (first of many to follow) in one of my mom’s flight to get away from my father .   For 25 cents and up, you could purchase a world where anything was possible and live vicariously through the eyes of a character and see what they saw and know what they thought. Needless to say, by the pictures above,  my favorite character in comics was Spiderman. But the thing is,  like I am sure like many other fans did, I identfied most with Peter Parker, his alter-ego. He was smart,determined, didn’t fit in because of his awkwardness,  had an Uncle Ben (father figure) who had died and they were poor.  Spiderman cracked jokes all the time.  So yeah, I  identified with him more less. And yes,  I am corny, I did believe in the phrase “With great power comes great responsibility” line.  I still do to this day and it shaped many of my decisions more than than once in my life. Not saying I’m a superhero jumping off buildings trying to save people.  I’m saying you could have the power of hurting someone’s feelings with the wrong word or you could instead instill in that same person a sense of something to boost their pride or keep their spirit going…everyone has value ….yeah I have always been a sensitive kid that way (to a fault at times).

adventurecover

The next logical progression after comic books for me was books…oh those magical books…I love the person who founded the library system and screw that YA author & actor Terry Dreary, who recently stated that libraries are not relevant anymore. I was a poor kid way back when and besides shoplifting I couldn’t have read a quarter of the books that I read in my younger years without that glorious thing called a library card. Those books saved me. Where my brothers found escape in running the streets, shoplifting, fighting, smoking, or drinking,  I found it in words. They wrapped around me like a cocoon where I grew and grew inside.  They helped form inside me  a vocabulary, a world, and a mystery only I was privy to.

I hit my teen years where life divided me into two worlds….those of my friends who to me ,had everything I didn’t,  to a family at home which was slowly disintergrating before my eyes; my brothers, my mother, and me to a degree. Where once I was kid who found possibilities, now I saw only wanting an escape. Home was not a comfort, it was a prison, a sentence to ride out until school or I visited my friends at their home.  I developed a complex about everything from the gap in my teeth, to the way I would sometimes stutter when really nervous, to the clothes I wore, and the place I lived. I never had friends for a sleepover because I was embarassed about my family and home. I always felt inadequate to the task; never quite good enough for the rich kids or smart enough to fit in.

So I studied and I studied. I got smarter. I forced myself to beat back the depression with knowledge and lose myself in asking the abstract questions. To question everything and challenge myself not to be led by others. I still didnt feel like  I fit in, but I had begun to have better tools to see myself as not as a joke in their eyes but more as an equal.

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After a few failed girlfriends and a couple of years in college I finally met the love of my life and married her….She turned me around (even though I didnt realize it at the time) and taught me the value of what life is.  She taught me the value of committment and compassion and that things mattered. No more was my story mine now it was ours and I wanted to share my life with her….

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Then he came along and made my life a living hell.  You know I’m kidding…. But life was a worldwind for a bit…Those years of him growing up, were fast and furious , and for some reason, writing really never entered my mind. But as I went from one  job to the next job,  to the next job in my  career I woke up one day and  realized very  strongly I didnt  want the path I had chosen and that I felt I was made for bigger things than the lot  I had fallen into.

I wanted more than the hum drum day to day life I was leading….so I went back to college and took Creative Writing & English Lit courses.  I got in with other writers and talked with them and learned from them. I started writing. I started CREATING.  Then that little butterfly that had waited so long to be formed and released from its Chrysalis broke out and flew. Now I’m blogging about my journey to be the next Stephen King or the next Ray Bradbury or the next Philip Wardlow….I may have come a little late to the train station but I caught the last seat in the car….and I’m settling in for a long trip.

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