Roland Yeomans's Blog, page 92

WHEN THE WORLD ABOUNDS IN DARKNESS

WHAT CAN WE DO?
As struggling writers our individual resources are limited. 
But we can marshal what we have, where we are, and go with our strengths. 
 What dies first when the world becomes dark for people?
The ability to dream, to hope.
 Perhaps the best we can do is continue to write stories that move people.
What we can do is write good fiction.
 when I write a good story, we can understand each other if you are a reader, and I’m a writer. 

 There is a special  secret passage between us,  and we can send  a message to each other. 
So I think  writing good stories is a way I can contribute to society or people in the world.

 In other words,  you find a way to help people  that’s in keeping with the  kind of person  you already are. 
That might involve making art, writing novels, pursuing knowledge, or teaching. 
You pour yourself  into those endeavors,  knowing that one way  to heal the world  is to be in it  and offer your gifts.
  WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Is NaNoWriMo still a Thing?

What you all do to yourselves!
Participants must write an average of approximately 1,667 words per day in November 

to reach the goal of 50,000 words written toward a novel.


 I want to thank Lee McKenzie for hosting my giveaway for  SILHOUETTES IN THE KEY OF SCREAM
CONGRATULATIONS  to the winners: 
Tonja Drecker, J Lenni Dorner, and Mary Aalgaard!
But back to NaNoWriMo ...
Does a good novel have to be 50,000 words?

Let's check out a few:
The Old Man and the Sea Hemingway - 27,000A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens – 28,000Animal Farm by George Orwell – 29,000Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck – 30,000 It took Dickens six weeks to write  A CHRISTMAS CAROL
I did my New Orleans' version of his novel

 in the same length of time.{35,000 Words}

WHEW! 
Good luck to those of youwriting all this month!
Oh, look for BEWARE THE JADE CHRISTMASaround Black Friday.
Christmas Eve, New Orleans, 1946
Not a good time  to walk the streets at night!

THE LEGEND OF STINGY JACK

Jack O' Lanterns have been carved for centuries at Halloween.
The practice originated from an Irish myth about a man nicknamed “Stingy Jack.”

Stingy Jack invited the Devil to have a drink with him. 

True to his name, Stingy Jack didn’t want to pay for his drink, 

so he convinced the Devil to turn himself into a coin that Jack could use to buy their drinks. 



Once the Devil did so, 
Jack decided to keep the money and put it into his pocket next to a silver cross, 

which prevented the Devil from changing back into his original form. 


Jack eventually freed the Devil, 
under the condition that he would not bother Jack for one year and that, should Jack die, he would not claim his soul. 

The next year, Jack again tricked the Devil into climbing into a tree to pick a piece of fruit. 


While he was up in the tree, Jack carved a sign of the cross into the tree’s bark 

so that the Devil could not come down until the Devil promised Jack not to bother him for ten more years.

Soon after, Jack died. 

 As the legend goes, 
God would not allow such an unsavory figure into heaven. 

The Devil, upset by the trick Jack had played on him and keeping his word not to claim his soul, 

would not allow Jack into hell.


 He sent Jack off into the dark night with only a burning coal to light his way. 

Jack put the coal into a carved-out turnip and has been roaming the Earth with it ever since. 

The Irish began to refer to this ghostly figure as “Jack of the Lantern,” and then, simply “Jack O’Lantern.”

In Ireland and Scotland, people began to make their own versions of Jack’s lanterns by carving scary faces into turnips or potatoes 

and placing them into windows or near doors to frighten away Stingy Jack and other wandering evil spirits.

YOU CAN STOP READING MY BOOK

No, honest.  
I give you permission to stop reading my book.
We are killing the joy of reading  by forcing ourselves to read  a book in which we have stalled.
Sometimes the book isn’t bad you just never feel like reading it. 

The prevailing wisdom is to power through, but that is terrible advice.
Reading should be a pleasure. 
School often robs us of the idea that reading can be fun.
Well, we're not in school anymore

I give you permission to stop reading my book or any book in which you have stalled.
I want you to enjoy reading my book or anyone else's.

But I also give you permission to keep on reading.
Just like a man, right?

Take  “A Farewell to Arms” 
If you have read it,you may not remember most of the book

But I bet the last 3 pages stay with you still.

Remember:
The right book for the right person is not enough. 
It needs to be the right book, for the right person at the right time.

I just want you to have fun reading.

UNDER A VOODOO MOON_ WEP post

The October Challenge for WEP (Write Edit Publish) Flash Fiction is Deja Vu or Voodoo. http://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/
{997 words}
The blood moon leered down on Alice and me through thick, silent mists snaking above us. 

The mists were the only things silent across the grassy courtyard. 
Drums beat wild rhythms as rocking black men chanted, their wide eyes glazed over. 

In the shadows of the huge bonfire, black dancers wheeled about, long machetes flashing in their fists.
 I was so scared it felt like my skin was about to leap off me and do the Mambo with my skeleton. 

I knew where we were from pictures in that book on voodoo in early New Orleans: 


Congo Square, across Rampart Street from the French Quarter. 
 
Place Congo was its name this far back in the past.

 I reached out and took Alice’s ice-cold right hand. My heart calmed. 

With her at my side, I could take on monsters.
 With the musk of sweat, alcohol, and hate heavy in the humid night air, Alice whispered in that odd British accent of hers, 

“Victor, we are in serious jeopardy here.”
 When a flesh-eating ghoul says she’s afraid,

 even a mongrel like me knows life has just hit a new high in low-down.

 The drums suddenly stopped. Every wild eye turned to us.
 I winked at her. “You think?”
A tall woman, her black face glowing like an instrument of dark grace, spoke softly, 

yet it carried out across the dancers and slithering snakes on the grass.
 But none of them equaled the boa across her shoulders.
 “You two do not belong here.”
 Alice murmured, “Look at Marie Laveau, Victor. She is such a striking woman.”
I grinned drily, “Even without the snake.”

 A small, crooked old man limped to us. “She be right.”
He turned to Alice, his voice gaining an edge. “’Specially you, nzumbe.”
 I stiffened. “That’s Myth Nzumbe to you, Fright Face.”
 Alice lips got tight. “Is everything a jest to you, Victor?”
 I squeezed her icy hand.  “Never you, Alice. But you can’t let monsters see you sweat.”
Alice raised a prim eyebrow. “I never sweat.”
The old man limped closer. “You be half-dead, now, Miss Nzumbe. Soon you be all dead.”


 “Don’t count on it, Legba.”
He stepped back an inch. “You know me?”
“I know of you.”
 “Then, you knows how powerful I be. I be the origin of life!”
I snorted. “Get real. That would be Elohim. And I’m pretty sure you’re not Him.”
“So sure are you?”
I nodded to the squirming reptiles. “Pretty sure. He’s not real fond of snakes. He took their legs away, remember?”
He cackled, “But Erzulie be fond of dem, and she be right behind you, boy. Erzulie, loa of Love and Death.”
 I turned to face the tall black woman with strange scars on her face and smiled, 

“That’s a new look for you, Mother.” 

“No, child. ‘Dis face be veeery old. And you be in bad trouble.”
 I winked at her and copied her accent, “Dat be an veeery old story, Mudder.”
Alice sank my floating rib with a sharp elbow. 

“We are very grateful that you plucked us from harm’s way earlier.”
 Mother’s new face could have hung on an African hut door for all its spookiness.  

“Not earlier, child.  Many, many years later from now.  And you be still in harm’s way.  A choice is yers now, girl.”
Alice was so scared she almost vibrated.  “What choice would that be, Er-Erzulie?”

Mother’s eyes became the slate gray of winter storms.  

“Da only choice, child.  Yerself or others.  Darkness or Light.  Revenge or Love.”
 I made a face.  “That seems a lot more than one choice, Mother.”
She jabbed a long, scraggly forefinger at me.  “You remember: nothing caged can love its jailer.”

 {Courtesy Leonora Roy}
I turned to Alice.  But she was all eyes for something behind me.
I went death cold.  Three white females.  One young.  The second?
 She was Madame LaLaurie, all a’flutter with insane eyes and a long scalpel.
The third?  The third was… Maija. 

 {Courtesy Leonora Roy}
And the young white girl? 
She was what Alice would have looked like human.  
Legba looked sadly at Alice.  “De third be your mother yet to be.  Even now she be a foul, twisted thing.  

Look.  Maija be givin’ her to Laveau to learn how to make you what you is.”
The mists swallowed him.  “Ya could kill ‘er now.  Save yerself 175 years of de living death.”
Alice stiffened.  “I–I could, could I not?”
 I reached out.  “But there would never be an US.”
Her face screwed up.  “Is all you care about is yourself, Victor?  

Do you know the 175 years of living hell I endured because of that perversion of a mother?”
 She flowed up to me.  “Do you?”
For the first time since I’d known her, her face was ugly. 

“Do you!?”
Home.  I’d lost it.  I smiled so bitter it tasted of salt. 
Alice flowed after her mother being led beyond the bonfire by Marie Laveau, beyond my dreams and broken hopes. 
 Legba appeared beside me. “I knows yer power.  You could stop her.”
 “When you love someone, sir, you want what is best for them.  This will kill me.  But it will free Alice from a living hell.”


 I turned to him, no longer able to see clear through the hot tears.  “How could I say I love her if I caged her to do it?”  
He reached out, grabbing my shoulder.  “Da Miracle of Life… He be remembering yer name.”
A voice I never expected to hear again murmured to my left.  

“His name is Victor Standish.  And he will never be alone as long as I live.”

 I whirled around.  Alice.  She took my hand, kissing me lightly.
She sobbed, “I heard you.  I thought to myself, ‘Are you going to let your mother hurt you again by taking someone who loves you so from your side?’”
Alice squeezed my hand.  “I remembered what your Mother said, Victor.  And I chose… you.”
I forced a wink.  “Well, who wouldn’t?” 

WHY DOES HALLOWEEN STAY SO POPULAR?

The National Retail Federation reckons that Americans will pay

a record $3 billion-plus this season on hairy spiders, blowup Draculas and plastic maggots that glow in the dark.

Millennials are characterized by a desire for a prolonged adolescence so it is no surprise that they cling to the idea of dressing up.

In fact, two in three adults feel Halloween is a holiday for them and not just kids.


But I think it goes deeper:

The books and then movies in the 50's of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS and WHO GOES THERE? (THE THING)

did not just tap into the paranoia of the Cold War

but also the paranoia of adulthood when aging children realized that their parents, their leaders, and those around them were not who they posed as being:

In essence those children lost their innocence in that they realized they were surrounded by people wearing masks ...

and that the real monsters lay BENEATH those masks.

Especially since September 11, 2001, the Boston Marathon Bombing, and endless school shootings,

it seems all too easy to imagine a murderer sitting in the aisle next to you.


Of course, that is not the only reason for the surging popularity of Halloween --

There’s no stress to it. You don’t have to travel or deal with relatives. There’s not the holiday pressure to find a date if you are single.

You can wear whatever you want and not be judged. There’s the fantasy, role-play element.

 If you think about it, it’s surprising that 90% of people don’t feel it’s their favorite holiday.


My friend, Darren Comeaux,

tells me that Halloween is quite an even in Japan, a country from which he has just returned.

In Japan, Halloween is not simply an end-of October event.

1.)  It is celebrated more in the form of masquerade parties and parades for adults.


2.) Halloween season in Japan runs for quite a long time.

 In amusement parks like Disneyland, Halloween-themed performances start from early September.

In schools and offices, Halloween parties and related events fill up their calendars for two months.


(While in American Politics, Trick or Treat lasts all year!)


3.) Halloween is still a growing market in Japan.


DEVIL'S NIGHT

Devil's Night is a name associated with October 30, the night before HALLOWEEN in Detroit, Michigan

(a city that both Victor Standish and I have highly violent memories of)

Devil's Night dates from as early as the 1930's.

Traditionally, city youths engaged in a night of mischievous or petty criminal behavior, usually consisting of minor pranks.

However, in the early 1970s, the vandalism escalated to more destructive acts such as arson.

The crimes became more destructive in Detroit's inner-city neighborhoods, and included hundreds of acts of arson and vandalism every year.

The destruction reached a peak in the mid- to late-1980s,

with more than 800 fires set in 1984, and 500 to 800 fires in the three days and nights before Halloween in a typical year.


ANGEL'S NIGHT

Let us resolve to counter-act the darkness a bit and make of Halloween season a time of Angel Nights where we do random acts of kindness.

Now, that's a real treat to a night of tricks, right?

Look for my collections of Halloween tales in my side bar (the top two!)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to me!

Ironically, this is FIRE PREVENTION DAY
Since my home burned down some years back.

It is also CURIOUS EVENT DAY

Which meshes in a strange way with COLUMBUS DAY

since when he landed in the New World,he believed he had reached the Indies!
Hence his calling the people he met INDIANS
Another Irony.
Today is also NATIVE AMERICAN DAY
Post-Columbus diseases killed 1 to 5 millionnatives in the 50 years following his landing.
Talk about THERE GOES THE NEIGHBORHOOD!

GOOD NEWS
It is also BEER AND PIZZA DAY!
While I don't drink beer (I get into enough trouble sober)
Guess what I treated myself to today?

Anyone want to buy
one of my 2 latest
Kindle books?
WHAT HOLIDAYS SHARE YOUR BIRTHDAY?

ARE WE HEADED TO A DARK AGE TECHNOLOGICALLY?

Makes you think, right?
And does our culture evenbelieve in Evil anymore?   After all only the uneducated and old-fashioned believe in evil anymore, right?

There is only what works and what doesn't.

Evil is in the eye of the beholder.  

What you call evil, I might call emotional free thinking.

God is not dead, for He never existed.



To be adult is to put away childish things, to shrug off superstitious nonsense,
to embrace the thrill that comes from  living life fully unfettered by the dusty restraints of last century.

Have you noticed that the longer you sit in a dark restaurant, the better you can see?  
The room has not become brighter ...
Your eyes have just become accustomed to the dark.

 I still prefer CASABLANCA  to 50 SHADES OF GREY.  
I believe I have become a dinosaur

Do you think our culture's eyes have becomeaccustomed to the dark?

Becoming LOST

Ghost of Gertrude Stein here
I was a den mother of sorts to the most famous of the lost generation writers,
who excelled in their prose and failed in life.
Perhaps it was because they stumbled so badly in the war 

or in their struggle to get published that they grew too focused on their steps.
Everybody knows if you are too careful.
 You are so occupied in being careful that you are sure to stumble over something.


One must dare to be happy, 
knowing that we are always the same age on the inside but must learn to be wiser than that.
 After all everybody, that is, everybody who writes
is interested in living inside themselves in order to tell what is inside themselves. 
That is why writers have to have two countries, 

the one where they belong and the one in which they live really. 
The second one is romantic, is separate from themselves, it is not real but it is really there.
Your truth will come to you if you but let it come.

 If the communication is perfect, 
the words have life, 

and that is all there is to good writing, 
putting down on the paper words 

which dance and weep and make love and fight and kiss and perform miracles.

And while you pursue your dream, 

learn from my Lost Generation 

and do not let it become the nightmare of those closest to you. 

TALES TO PUSH BACK THE DARKNESS_IWSG post

 https://www.amazon.com/dp/1725721945/
Some of you are here because my friend, C. Lee McKenzie, pointed the wayin her IWSG post. 
http://www.cleemckenziebooks.com/blog/
Good friends make all the difference  in life, don't they?
When the nights grow long, and the year is coming to a close, 

it's only natural that people feel an urge to gather together.

At the edge of the year, it also makes sense to think of people and places that are no longer with us.

Samhain is a Gaelic festival marking the end of the harvest season 

and the beginning of winter or the "darker half" of the year.






We now call Samhain Halloween, 
but the old darkness, the old fears are still lurking in the shadows just past the light of our illusory faith in science. 


Why do we like scary stories?
When you read one that becomes frost down your spine, 

you are hit with the feeling to read another one.  

You have to love dopamine! 

It's not the believing them that is the crux, but the disbelieving them 

though they breathe winter through your veins.

You step out of the prose haunted house pumped by adrenaline 

but comforted by the knowledge that such things can't happen ... that you are safe.

'Or are you?' 

whispers the eternal child who awakens whenever the shadows draw close.


https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07HM8ZS5Q/
Take a ride on my twin ghost trains.(Only $1.99 each on Kindle) 
Who knows?
 You may win one of the 20 prizes offered on Lee's blog.

Oops!

This was supposed to
go up at midnight.