THE WINTER OF MY DISCONTENTMENT...

 

After two weeks of being buried under snow and ice...and having to deal with school closings spilling over into wall to wall kids at MY school, I'm happy to report the kiddies are back in class. That means I can catch my breath and enjoy the peaceful quiet of working in silence once again. But please don't think me content.

Because I'm not.

Maybe you think I should be thankful my debut picture book, THE STORY CATCHER, has finally been released. Or maybe I should be grateful I have eleven completed picture books and chapter books just waiting to find a new home. Or I should be happy over the fact I'm beginning to line up some author visits and interviews for the upcoming months.

Because I'm not.

You see, this is the winter of my discontentment. The winter I won't settle for simply resting on my laurels and waiting for the accolades to roll in. While I'm thankful Anaiah Press has given life to one of my stories, I hunger to give birth to the next one within the pages of another book with my name on the outside. I am not content to have almost a dozen completed, polished manuscripts under my belt, but wish to continue until I have no less than one hundred such treasures waiting to be read. And I will not rest until every child who could benefit from reading my book has a chance to do just that.

Mother Nature is a tricky one. She beguiles us with pretty snowflakes and sparkling ice, turning our thoughts to dreams of hibernating our days away until the Springtime. Winter is too frosty a time to be working so hard on our goals of becoming published authors. Colder temperatures chill our brains into thinking of nothing but cuddling under blankets and sipping hot cocoa until the birdies start singing again about the new flowers in our gardens.

But I won't be fooled. I won't be tricked into believing I have nothing else sneaking around in this imaginative mind of mine. I won't be hoodwinked into thinking the best of my writing isn't yet to come. I plan on turning my back on this winter of my discontentment and break through the icy cage in which I find myself. To burst through the barriers holding me back from creating a little magic in the dead of winter.

And when I'm done...when all the stories welling up within me spills out onto every piece of paper I own and I lay my pen down to catch my breath, I will take a moment to give thanks. To give thanks for the winter of my discontentment challenging me to do more. To strive for more. To BE more.

And like the beautiful rose, to never give in to the winter...

Flash Fiction Friday

The Long Trail Home

by Donna L Martin

Snow glistened all around as Lone Wolf's pony took slow crackling steps up the next ridge. Worry hardened his face as he searched the distant trees for some sign of Red Eagle. So far this winter had been harsh and many of the elders would no longer sit at tribal council. That left Lone Wolf to decide what was right for the people of his village. What would be best? Stay and pray Mother Earth would be kind to them or go in search of another land to call home?

Food was becoming harder to find ever since the pale faces stormed the valley and the children were paying the price as they tried to ignore the cries of a hungry belly. Red Eagle was their last hope. He had been gone for two moons, now Lone Wolf waited on the ridge for some sign of the warrior's return.

Just as the morning sun crested the far mountaintop, Lone Wolf saw something break through a stand of snow covered trees and slowly make its way to the river. Was it Red Eagle? Lone Wolf felt the icy air race deep into his lungs as his breath quickened. What news did he bring? 


***Okay, it's your turn! Does Red Eagle bring news to save the village? Or will the harshness of winter still blow across the valley and Lone Wolf's people?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

The Changing Seasons

Here it is...my favorite time of the year. Autumn. Being allergic to the sun and higher temperatures does not make me a huge fan of Summer but I know I have to get through those months before I can sail into cooler weather and welcome the fall with open arms.

Some people look at the dazzling reds, oranges, and yellow on the trees with dread. In their minds Autumn signals the slow death of a summer time dream, leading to the harsh reality of a colder winter. I'm not one of those people and hopefully there are more like me.  I embrace the chilly temperatures these days for they sharpen my senses to the ebb and flow of life going on around me.

Even my writing seems to be changing with the falling leaves these days. My stories are bursting with color and a hint of what lies ahead on these brisk fall mornings. Revisions become like the trees losing their foliage as dying words fall from my tales...leaving only the strong roots and foundation of the story itself as a reminder of what it once was. 

I know when the last leaf has left Autumn behind and I am cozy by a fire, toasting Old Man Winter, I will dream a winter's dream of the coming Spring. I will wait for Mother Nature to breathe life into the trees...just as I will breathe life into those stories lying dormant in my mind as I count down the days until it's Summer once again...