Author: a.catherine.noon

  • A Poem for the Day

    Water
    Not air, liquid oxygen
    A reflection of sunlight’s sparkling joy
    Lifter of souls, this swimmer’s buoyant delight
    Not sky, sometimes as if inverted they merge
    Life itself, both giver and sustainer
    Infinity and mystery, it’s nearly 75% of me
    –

  • Writer Wednesday – Why We Write


    These days I’m enjoying a friend’s gift, a creative writing book called “Rip the Page”.  Geared for the young and young-at-heart, exercises range from the lighthearted (zany word associations) to those darker (like writing about a huge hurt in our lives – powerful mojo there, let me tell you).  Doing them helped me get through Julia Cameron’s prescribed reading deprivation during “The Artist’s Way” workshop.
    Published authors provided encouraging notes, as well.  Young-adult historical writer Karen Cushman inspired this post.  Her final line superbly sums up why we write.
    “The best reason to write is just to find out what happens.”
    That simple truth staggered me.  I think I’ll go write now (right now, in fact), though I don’t see using so much alliteration as in my title.  ~grin~  Happy Wednesday!
    –

  • Reading Deprivation – An Artist’s Way Dilemma


    Entering week four of the Julia Cameron “Artist’s Way” workshop, my friends and I face a difficult challenge.  For this seven day period we are not supposed to read – at all.  Already I have fallen back into my word addiction, haunting the aforementioned forum this fine Tuesday afternoon despite best intentions.

    I succeeded better yesterday, putting back the magazine in my dentist’s waiting room unread.  The periodical leaped into my hands, I swear.  Seriously, without a novel in hand, my brain automatically sought another distraction.

    And mental distraction is exactly the thing Ms. Cameron wishes we would avoid.  Without constant informational inflow, our thoughts might turn inward.  Scary notion, huh?  Less frightening, we might find ourselves doing something constructive.  She hopes a new outflow will nudge aside artistic blockage.
    Admittedly, I still spent some time watching television last night but I’m keeping such mind numbing activity to a minimum.  As a result I found some positive and even playful substitutions.  In one day I enacted several reading alternatives that would not have occurred to me most other weeks.
    Waiting while a loved one received a physician’s care, I called my parents.  Later I flipped through a photo album before recreating a favorite image on manila drawing paper.  The resulting art is amateurish, certainly, yet the process was fun and rewarding.
    A friendly, self-proclaimed comedian friend of mine pointed out that I’m actually reading as I prepare this post.  I had to laugh.  Even Julia Cameron’s writings offer some contradiction.
    For example, in one paragraph she warns against filling our inner silence with things like television (as I mentioned above), gossipy conversations, or constant radio chatter.  On the following page she lists some other things people can do besides read and tops the list with listen to music.  Perhaps her mention of the radio refers to talk shows, for that matter.
    At any rate, I intend to do my best at promoting inner quiet.  Who knows what new activities my brain might cook up next?  On that note, it’s time to check the mailbox and maintain the silly hope my postman didn’t delivery a tempting new comic book.

    –

  • My Quote of the Day, by Darla M Sands


    A lucky accident today led me to a documentary about English writer Alan Moore.  I’d been trying to find an airing of a movie called “Mindscape” when “The Mindscape of Alan Moore” popped up in my search.  Intrigued, I began to watch.  His 1980’s contributions to the British comic “2000 AD” amazed me well before Hollywood got its claws into his art.
    As much as his story drew me in I suddenly stopped, compelled to share a quote.  I love this:
    “Quitting my day job and starting my life as a writer was a tremendous risk.  It was a fool’s leap; a shot in the dark.  But anything of any value in our lives – whether that be a career, a work of art, a relationship – will always start with such a leap.  And in order to be able to make it you have to put aside the fear of failing and the desire of succeeding.”
    This reiterates my personal beliefs and aligns well with Julia Cameron’s teachings.  Of course we can’t all achieve world renown, but I would choose a modest existence and creative contentment over Wall Street riches any day.
    Alan Moore goes on to say, “You have to do these things completely purely – without fear, without desire – because things that we do without lust of result are the purest actions that we shall ever take.”
    I shall take these words to heart.  I hope you will, as well.

  • Writer Wednesday – A Blogger Challenge from A to Z


    On her own ever-interesting blog, A. Catherine Noon recently posted information regarding an April blog challenge.  Throughout the month, participants are to post on every day except Sunday with topics following the alphabet A to Z.
    I like it!  What an interesting way to stoke the imagination.
    Thank you, Ms. Noon, for passing along word of this.  I couldn’t resist copying you by sharing here.
    So far, it has been fun just compiling a list of subjects.  My thesaurus came in handy, though some inspirations are decidedly more personal.  At any rate, I need to consider seven more.
    Then they need to be written, of course.  Guess I’d better get busy.  I hope to create some fun reads.
    You can find A. Catherine Noon’s original post here:

    A to Z Challenge: Do You Haz It?

    I plan to post both on my Darla M. Sands family friendly blog and the sometimes X-rated Sand Castles, depending on the subject matter.  I hope you’ll check us out!

    –

  • Keep the Drama on the Page

    Having been introduced to Julia Cameron’s “Artist’s Way” creative workshops a few years ago, I continue appreciating the maxim advising students “keep the drama on the page”.  Or the stage, or canvas, or whatever your favorite artistic medium.

    Of course that is not always easy.  Personally, as I slid a meatloaf into the oven several minutes ago I could not help recalling the nuisances inflicting my household in 2014.  It started with the early January meatloaf I cooked.  The oven element caught fire during the last five minutes of cook time.  Fortunately dinner was delicious but the next day my vacuum sweeper failed, its slipped belt actually burning through the plastic outer cover.  Neither could be fixed, and even replacement proved trickier than reason dictates.

    Add to that the veterinarian telling me my sweet, overweight cat was on the fast track to diabetes and a Saturday night spent racing a human to the emergency room.  Thank heaven everyone is on a healthier road now.  However, these surmountable but sometimes expensive and definitely stressful inconveniences have been compounded by a friend’s emotionally draining phone calls.  Again, I must count my blessings because the friend is not what Ms. Cameron would call a “crazymaker”.  Also, i can happily report that she is in a better place as of this very afternoon.

    Opening Julia Cameron’s prescribed morning page “brain dump” with a list of five blessings the last few months, I make regular note of positives.  I could live in a war torn country with no electricity or flush toilets, after all.  And I have the luxury of art.  Every day, small creative endeavors boost my spirits.  Alongside Julia Cameron’s user friendly tools and gentle wisdom, I have dear friends encouraging me to play.  A book of mandalas in an adult coloring book, wild bird feeding, a craft package suitable for eight-year-olds, and even enjoying my Christmas tree beyond January first have elevated my spirit beyond everyday doldrums.

    What activities brighten your day? Can you maybe take a few minutes to pamper yourself with fun? I sincerely hope you can sprinkle a little innocent pleasure into a what I imagine is a very busy modern schedule.

    –

  • A Flash Fiction for Your Tuesday, by Darla

    The Revival

    “It’s a little inappropriate for you to be acting cute, isn’t it?”
    Stella jolted.  “What?!”
    Drew nodded toward the umbrella on the passenger seat.  Knuckles white on the steering wheel, his narrowing eyes froze her from the rearview mirror.
    “You think it’s cuteto run around in the rain?”
    “Only my bangs got wet.  See?  Hood.”
    “You need to take better care as a future mother,” he demanded, not laughing.  “Seatbelt.”
    Grateful to break eye contact, Stella complied.  She didn’t understand why he made her ride in the back tonight.  She wasn’t pregnant yet.
    And I don’t want to be pregnant now.  We agreed to wait.
    She thought of his new church.  Too busy with her job, Stella had never attended.  That was changing tonight.  Up to this point, she had only seen a few congregants visiting Drew when she came home late from work.  Only one couple stayed for introductions.
    The woman, Marie, acted almost manic about her upcoming childbirth.  Marie’s husband, eyes traversing Stella’s trim torso with tight lipped discernment, guided Marie past and out the door.  He ignored Stella’s farewell.
    Wanting to ask what the men discussed, Stella joked about the couple.  Her remark about a “Stepford wife” earned Drew’s glower.
    That night he convinced Stella to make love despite her fatigue and consternation.  Stella would not have called it truly lovemaking.  The pattern persisted, intimacy evolving into cold coupling when she acquiesced.
    This night, watching street lights flash across clasped hands, Stella tried to remember when Drew first started acting odd.  His finding a church had not been surprising.  The newlyweds fresh out of college joked about his search for spiritual enlightenment.  But he’d respected Stella’s interest in establishing an IT consulting career.
    She planned to work from home after establishing clientele.  First, they needed a home.  Their apartment’s small second bedroom barely contained her desk and files.  And her ambition required laying groundwork, solidifying big business contacts which sometimes required late night schmoozing.
    Parenthood will have to wait.
    The car stopped at a red light.  She glanced up.  Drew’s stare caused her to look toward the window.
    “You really like this church,” she remarked with false levity toward her pale reflection.  “Will Marie and her husband…?”
    “Robert.”
    She closed her eyes.  “Yes.  Robert.  Will they be there?”
    “Of course.  They wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
    “What?”
    “The Wednesday revival.”
    “Oh.  Is that what this is?”
    “That’s what I told you,” Drew rumbled.
    Stella’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening.  Before any snide comment emerged about how he’d told her nothing until now, she rolled her lips between her teeth and gently bit down.  Disagreement these days only deepened the chill wafting from her once-lighthearted spouse.
    The car stopped and Stella made sure Drew had it in park so as not to receive further rebuke before unbuckling her safety belt.  Nothing happened when she pulled the door handle.
    “Drew, do you have the child locks on the doors?”
    “Safety first, Stella,” Drew remarked, turned away as he exited the driver side, “We wouldn’t want you falling out of a moving vehicle and hurting yourself.”
    His door slammed shut and Stella’s throat constricted.  Waiting for Drew to come around and open her door, she attempted to stretch her legs in the cramped space.  As crazy as it all seemed, running seemed like an excellent idea.
    But Drew didn’t come around the car.  He held a hand out behind his back, not even offering her a glance as his palm indicated she should wait.
    What the heck?
    Several young men opened the door of the weatherworn building as Drew approached.  Wearing wide grins, several patted him on the back.  Stella could make out nothing beyond the crowded doorway.  Then a trio stepped out into the New York City rain alongside Drew.  The rest retreated, and Stella thought she heard applause before the door closed.
    Droplets sparkled in the hair of all four men, stained glass windows casting a glow in primary colors.  Stella noticed with absurd clarity how one held a closed umbrella.
    How chivalrous.
    Swallowing a snort, she yelped when Drew opened the door and two strangers blocked her escape.  One reached for her arm.  Robert and Drew stood silent.  Stella scrambled away, turning, only to back herself against the other locked door.  She rattled the handle, her efforts impotent.
    The word “impotent” actually popping into her panicked mind, Stella let out a sound indistinguishable between a laugh and a yelp.  The leering male leaning in appeared anything but that.  She tried to kick his groin.  He only got a vice grip on her advancing right ankle.
    God, let him be left-handed, Stella begged, her fear making the absurd wish seem logical.
    Crying out to Drew, Stella felt something snap in her right hip when the assailant yanked.  Suffering only a few minor forearm impacts, he grunted and stilled her flailing leg.  Gaze finding her husband, she saw only excitement in his feverish eyes and bared teeth.  Her grip on the door handle gave way as her lower body dropped and the attempt hyper-extended her left shoulder.
    At least I’m right handed, she thought.  I can still punch him where it hurts.
    Then Stella landed on the pavement.  The impact caused an explosion of stars before her vision and forced the air from her lungs, preventing her scream.  Drew stepped aside for an old woman.  She bent bearing a handkerchief, an acrid smell assaulting Stella’s nostrils even as she noticed the Bible in the other gnarled hand.
    “Don’t cry,” a woman soothed through spinning darkness.
    “Marie,” Stella croaked, hip and shoulder throbbing above overall achiness.  “Help.”
    “You’re fine, Sister Stella.  Stay still.  The drugs will wear off soon.”
    Stella tried to sit but the world twisted.  Bile rose in her throat.
    “Mother Montgomery didn’t want you hurting yourself or any potential fathers.”
    Stella heaved until emptied.  She shuddered at that consideration.
    Am I empty?
    “It’s a blessed calling.”
    “Calling?”
    “We’re here to revive the church.”
    –

  • Writer Wednesday – Finding Balance


    I just finished reading an interview featuring a very gifted artist.  Amongst his other comments, he underlined the importance of mental and physical balance.  One colleague, upon seeing the man’s most private project, asked how he could possibly be sane and produce such work.
    The answer?  Martial arts.  In this artist’s case, that translated to thirty years practicing Kung Fu and several also instructing.  His peer replied in the manner of “Ah!  Of course.”  They both understood that physical discipline grounded him to the real world.
    While the most remedial martial arts routine would probably put me in agony the next day, walking is an activity most of us can quite easily undertake.  The key lies in making time.
    On a scale I find achievable, Julia Cameron’s “Walking in This World” teachings promote weekly walks.  She advocates thirty minutes or more, and doing it more than once if we feel so motivated.  I find the activity lets me enjoy my surroundings and/or muse over blessings.  When I suffer impotent anger, it helps clear away obsession over little injustices.
    For nearly a month, I’ve reincorporated regular workouts on my ski machine alongside walking.  Feeling a bit more fit, I want to keep the momentum going.  I have never obtained the enviable endorphin high such as I’ve heard marathon runners extol, but my small accomplishments give me a definite mental boost.
    What type of exercise are you getting or might consider undertaking?  I hope you can make the effort and reap the rewards.  Just be safe if you’re walking an icy path or attempting something physically advanced.  Equally important, enjoy yourself.
    –

  • A Haiku for the Day

    A Birder’s Joy
    Birds irrupt, hungry
    They head to more southern climes
    Watchers take delight
    –

  • Twittering Our Time Away


    It’s about that time of year again.  And I’m not referring to Christmas.  My annual subscriptions need renewed for the British comic weekly “2000 AD” and the monthly “Judge Dredd Megazine”.
    Both have provided enjoyment for many years, though the exchange rate against the United States dollar did interrupt my reading a few years back.  I’m glad to have these futuristic, often dystopian tales back in my life, especially when we got the joy of seeing talented actor Karl Urban bring Ol’ Stoney Face to the big screen.  Dredd’s U.S. popularity is soaring, too.  Hurray!
    Besides the graphic stories, features I appreciate in the “Megazine” are artists’ interviews.  They provide interesting insight.  The last issue was no exception.  One particular thing the illustrator mentioned stood out to me, too, prompting this essay.
    During this so-called interrogation titled “The Anarch-Tist”, artist Warwick Cadwell lauds the internet for allowing him to connect with fans as well as other artists.  The man even credits others’ blogs with aiding his career.
    But he also warns us.  In his own words, “If you’re not careful, you can spend all your time on Twitter talking about what pen you should be using rather than getting on with any actual drawing!”
    These are words we should all take to heart.  Whatever our preferred medium, we cannot produce art if we spend all our time discussing it.  And we have all know the infinite number of internet distractions, whether they parade as research or networking or we’re just fattening up Sushi Cat (thanks, Armor Games, for swallowing so many afternoons).
    Having noted Mr. Cadwell’s wisdom, I’d best post this now and get back to my novel.  Cheers!