Time For Reflection...

It's hard to believe my last post was the middle of December. Thank you so much for your messages. There's been a lot on my mind. 

I've been thinking about being real, and in studying that I knew it was time to reflect... let things go that weren't serving me, and make a conscious effort to be real. I discovered I was spending much to much time on social media and not accomplishing anything, wasting precious time, which I could use to be doing other meaningful things. It's so easy to get into the habit of wasting time, and it's strange because I can hardly believe how liberated I feel, knowing I can now take time out to do the things I felt I didn't have time for. 

There is a list of things to do. I have a project on the go that requires more research, so now I will focus and be able to continue writing with gusto... Once I have a new excerpt I shall blog again, and hopefully connect with like-minded followers.  Lets face it, most of what happens on Social Media, isn't real... I think once we connect with another who is 100% authentic, and feel the same vibe, its important to stay in-touch. There are not many genuine individuals out there who feel as we do.  

Signing off with love... 

MJ Ewen 

The Gypsy...

Just imagine... 

your walking along the road to nowhere, you know somethings got to happen because your life's in the gutter, and, you also realise that If you disappeared right now, no one would miss you. You've accomplished nothing. Your thoughts and mood, have been dark for a long time. 

You look around but your vision is cloudy, you're walking, aimlessly. Then it starts snowing. Within a couple of minutes the snow begins to fall hard. You're not dressed for winter, you left the house in a hurry.  Music, you hear music. It's a Christmas Carol...  we wish you a merry Christmas... we wish you a merry Christmas...  its Christmas!  Is it really Christmas? her intuition tells her to follow the music.

In the distance the glow from fairy lights cuts through the haze of falling snow. There are voices, music, and laughter.  It's been so long since I laughed.  I wonder, could I do that again? ... Maybe not.  Since you left, the world's felt lonely, and the way you left confirmed my importance.  Since then, my time has been spent reevaluating who I am, my purpose, and where I'm going, or actually, do I want to be here? and like a recording, I'm stuck...  Death is final.  Its so inviting, but not to be taken lightly. I need to think everything through.  Mind you, its not like anyone will miss me, but have I finished, am I really done?

Gaiety is up ahead, the music sounds beautiful, but can I feel beauty, right now? So many questions, so much uncertainty. The music alters, it's gypsy music, violins, and fiddles, jig out the beautiful, and the dark, reminding me of how we use to dance. 

Wiping snow from my eyes, I'm startled as a tall lady steps out from in-front of her brightly coloured stall, 

"Hello my lovely, may I invite you into my space, I have a feeling you won't regret your visit"

Her dark curly hair, cascades down, despite being tied up in a bright turban scarf which holds golden coins that jiggle as she moves. Dressed like a Gypsy, her dark eyes softly stare. She's waits for an answer. 

What do I have to lose? I whisper to myself. Her patience is inspiring,  I know I'm supposed to answer, but this overwhelming, inadequate feeling, monopolises my mind.

"Come, let's talk, I sense you need a friend"

Feeling comfortable, I reach out to hold her hand. The Gypsy pulls me through her sequinned curtain, revealing the smallest room which is beautifully decorated. A tiny round table, two blue velvet covered chairs, shelves, that home books, trinkets and treasures. In the middle of the table sits the most exquisite, crystal snow globe, which rests on a intricate, gold stand, raising it from the linen it sits upon. My senses heighten, I smell delicious aromas, and essential oils.  

"Please, take a seat, let your experience begin" 

Sitting down, I'm unable to draw my eyes away from the globe, its light reflects silver, and golden specs of incredible light, whilst tiny flecks of snow, float around a scene I can't quite see...

The Gypsy settles herself, and asks,

"Shall we begin, my lovely?" 

MJ Ewen

Writers Are Never Alone...

If I can help you see that beautiful light within then my purpose has been exposed, find that light, and find your magic, because we all have it... 

MJ

Jumping off the stairs she lands on all fours and for a moment she resembles a monkey. In her crouched position she is paused... her mind is still, whilst her hair cascades across her face, but through the breaks, I see big grey, green eyes, and as her black lashes blink, robot like, she begins to stand.

It's been a while but another Character waits to enter The Loft... 

Leaning against the wall I relax into my folded arms.  I decide to wait for her to speak.  I'm usually the communicator, the one who draws them out of their shells, but I decide for this one I need to spend time observing, for future reference. 

There is something intriguing about her. The character seems familiar, but I'm sure I've never met her before. 

"May I speak?" She whispers,

"Of course"

"I'm lost, I don't know where I am" visibly, she shivers.

"This is The Loft, where people come to wait"

"Wait?" She queries

"Yes,  it's like a half way house, where you spend time before you're included into a writers world" and with that explanation out of the hat I smugly hug myself tighter, feeling secure that my explanation is enough. 

Silence... Confusion...

"Why would I come here to go into a story?  I don't understand,  I want to go home"

Flummoxed, I'm confused now...

"But you are home, anyone who lands here usually wants to stay,  although, I did once have a couple who decided to leave, however, it's highly unusual"

This will never do, I thought, sensing my own irritability...

"But I'm not a character to be placed into a book,  I'm me,  I just don't know where I came from, I feel so confused, but I know who I am, and I don't think I want to be inserted with words, in-between pages"

(Silence)

My mind works over-time, I'll have to let her work through this.

"My name's Mary, she offers, I'm a good person, I'm clever, I studied hard and have a degree in philosophy and English Literature. My life seems real hazy right now, and I feel fearful because my mind is overwhelmingly foggy about everything else"

"Its ok Mary, it'll all become clear, I promise... and being someone important in a writers mind isn't for everyone, sometimes it's something you'll grow into, sometimes it can be something you help your writer with, quite often writers need a helping hand to grow their characters, and that's where you'd be the perfect asset, I watch as her demeanour softens, you're going to love your new job, Mary, we can take it easy, and go at your pace, if it's not for you, then you can leave at any time, but usually, once here, you'll want to stay. The Loft is warm, inviting, interesting and that amazing degree you've worked hard for, it'll be helpful, because that means you're a communicator, and there are some characters in The Loft who definitely need help" with another warm smile, I wink in her direction. 

"I like to help, I love getting to know people and I especially like to understand others, hence my philosophy knowledge" she looks up towards the top of the winding stairs, where those double doors beckon to all of my clients, and the characters who nestle there know that at some point I'll need them. 

"Maybe I'll stop for a little while then, she looks at me and asks, what's your name?"

"It's Mary-Jane, but my friends call me MJ"

"Ah she cries, no wonder I've grown to like you, we share our first name"

"Why what's your second name" I ask,

And as I watch her face, I smile, knowing her realisation is but a word away... 

"My second name is, Jane" she splutters...

Sometimes you don't have to understand the way of the land, often times, acceptance is the key, but never think writers are lonely, because we're not...

MJ Ewen 

Isabelle...

 No one could predict the monster Isabelle would become, but its the backstory, and characters accounts that will help the reader understand the whys and wherefores... Even so, it's Isabelle's hard heart, and despicable treatment of those around her that will make it difficult to sympathise.  She's a twenty year old, hell-bent on seducing, her benefactor, Mr Arthur Essie. 

No one will get in her way... No-One. 

This week the word count has been healthy. The ideas and direction of Chapter 5, have flowed nicely...

Watching, and waiting from the perimeter of the Garden Party, Isabelle knew he'd arrive soon. She was fed up of hanging around, she had plans, and he would listen. It was her time.  Then, she saw him enter the party holding his wife's hand, smiling, as he introduced her to business colleagues.  

Isabelle's fury exploded in her chest, it burned, she felt as if she was on fire and it made her eyes water.

She never cried, not ever. 

MJ Ewen