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Hoorah! I finished the first draft of Epiphany, my third book and second novel. That was an accomplishment! Granted, it is full of passionate extremes and lush places to wander and wonder, but it’s entitled Epiphany. Does it live up to it’s name? Did I end up where I was going? Should I smooth out the bumps and delete the detours? Was it worth it? What was this journey like, and what will it be like writing it over?
It takes time.
I know I could have written this faster. But, rereading letters, making contact with friends from my Oregon adventures, musing on long walks, and sometimes, sitting at the computer at 4 AM, putting notion and inspiration into words—all of that and more, takes time. Like saddle breaking a horse, like baking a cake, like learning to play the violin, like listening to music. I listened to Garth Brooks singing The River. http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/garthbrooks/theriver.html
Trying to learn from what’s behind you
And never knowing what’s in store
Makes each day a constant battle
Just to stay between the shores…and
I will sail my vessel
Till the river runs dry…
Yes, trying to learn from what was behind me was worth it. Revisiting the haunting beauty of Oregon, and tying up the strings that brought me through heart stopping fear and mountaintop joy, going crazy, stretching the limits of my creativity, seeing clearly now and then. Wow. What a trip! Now I get to do it again, and find better words to honor all those that I met along the way. BTW, as I struggled through the first draft, I learned new wordplays. Here: I’ll show you. First, a simple poem about what I learned in the
Game of Love.
Take what you want
And pay the price
Give it a shot Come roll the dice
You play the game
And steal the prize
Dodge the blame And pay with lies
Well, here is news
For when you cheat
Yourself you lose
In troubles deep
At the San Miguel Writers Conference, I learned an old form of poetry called a Villanelle. It is also simple—sort of lilting like the pastoral countrysides of Oregon. I wrote this villanelle about the same subject-love gone wrong. That sounds “country like” doesn’t it?
“Come, lean on me, and warm—my—bed
Embrace my heart and hold my hand,
I’ll love you—forever,” he said.
“You could be hurt, or even dead
But I’ll keep you safe in this wild land
Come, lean on me, and warm—my—bed.”
“We’ll visit sites of which you’ve read,
Nothing’s too big, nothing’s too grand.
I’ll love you—forever,” he said.
“Abandon fears and take instead
My promised golden wedding band.
Come, lean on me, and warm—my—bed.”
He filled her hands and filled her head
With all she and her God had planned.
“I’ll love you—forever,” he said.
He lied, and bitter tears she shed
Ore cherished words, like fool’s gold panned:
“Come, lean on me, and warm—my—bed
I’ll love you—forever”, he said.
Oregon itself begs to be a poem. Have you been there? Can you dream of such a place?
Lions, bears, possums, raccoons
Ravens, eagles, quails and loons
Mountaintops, valleys, cliffs and caves
Waterfalls, pools ‘n ocean waves
As I rewrite Epiphany, a journey into passionate extremes and lush places to wander and wonder, I want to take you along. It turns out this book isn’t about finding the love of my life-it’s about learning to love.
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