Lavinia Thompson's Blog: Seeking reviewers! , page 27

A reminder of inspirations

The news came when I was sitting in Starbucks last week, much like I am now. My mother suffered a mild stroke and is in the hospital undergoing tests.

To chase down lucky stars in the sky, she's alright. It's hard to sit a province away while she's still in hospital and my siblings are at home somehow making things work in her absence. It's harder still to keep working at two jobs and keep things together on my own homestead.

It's also a reminder of many things. My mother is a huge inspiration to me. I have always seen her as this invincible force not to be reckoned with, someone who can endure anything…but even she proves once in a while that everyone reaches their limits. This stroke happened after some years of drama, trauma and stress that just built and built and finally exploded.

It has made me really reflect on how much she has influenced my life and goals. Spellbound was inspired because of a certain anger that erupted for what happened to her and my family for so many years. One could spin it that it is the abuser inspiring the story, but really it is the force that kept me going for so long. I watched her struggle financially, be kicked down and forced to fight just to stand up again and face it all with a will I am sure I will never see again.

There are two characters in the Spellbound series that resonate what my mother has always been to me: Janey's aunt Olivia and Billy's mother, Milene. Both were prominent figures in the lives of the characters and both were lost under tragic circumstances, each scene of which is a reminder of what could have been had the abuse gotten any worse than it did in my childhood. It was always my biggest fear then. Losing her in any way I think is always a fear planted deep in the heart of any child.

It amazes me, though, how for someone who went through so much and persevered like some sort of invincible hero, one stroke can take her down. It's scary. She certainly is my hero and I know she'll come out on top of this just as she does everything else. She always has a way to shine even when something goes wrong. It's the thing I admire most about her- her endurance to withstand anything that comes her way.

I found a poem from a few years ago that I wrote for her and thought I'd share it as well.

Butterfly in the Antique Mirror

She's as graceful as the summertime butterfly

flying around on the wild wind.

Beauty's simplicity in the love

of who raised me.

Where I lay my head is where I'm meant to be

but where my mother stands is where I call home.

May occulted skies be black as night without a moon,

white angel flowers across hills

whispering soft, it's her voice I hear…

where ever I may roam.

She is the free spirit within like

a blossoming wildflower. I will find my way,

writhing through grass to face the sun.

Like lace between fingers, a fond memory

of why she is here, who she has helped me become.

She cradled me in eloquence every time I cried.

She still does. A mother is something like

elegance of the lily white moon; enchantment

of stars endowed with grace

for like morose skies above

she is always there…

Every time I see her face I remember

standing before a mirror, dreamed of being

a queen, regal and majestic, lace dresses and ribbons.

Still see her smiling while I was playing dress up;

delicate embrace of her eyes perhaps wishing

a daughter's innocence lasted, simplicity like

the butterfly in the antique mirror.

Letting a lace scarf trace flowers through my fingers,

there will be no fairy tales, this I know now,

after all the years of secondhand clothes.

But in my ripped jeans and hockey sweater

I'll always find myself at her door.

Mother, what a gift you have always been to me.

If I live to see the seven wonders

there will never be

another wonder as resplendent

as a mother's love.

 

 

(Poem) Blue Motel

Another poem that is going into my poetry collection, She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle. Full preview at: http://laviniathompsonauthor.wordpres...

I look

in a mirror.

She stares back at me.

Look back to the door;

she is there after all these years.

She is the child in me

wondering where to go from here,

washing dishes and staring

out to skies that should be

blossoming in spring.

All I see is winter.

This May I turn 21.

With a sigh of bitter discontent

it all looks the same after a while.

Duties of a mother

set to a ten year old.

She always made things proper.

Not a crumb on the plates.

Not a stain on the glasses.

Not a wrinkle in the beds

for fear of something out of place

was the reason he'd make her

scream at night.

Nostalgically she remembers

much more than I ever will.

In a letter to me she says

there's that blue motel where

Mother used to flee with us.

I'd be in the back seat with a bit of

grimace at the neon sign in the dark.

Mother would be lucky to have time

to pack overnight bags before ushering

us out the door into the car;

running.

Sometimes it seems you're

so far in somewhere

there is no getting out.

There are days it seems

I should be 30; like

childhood never existed.

It was there…I know it was

but like the moon in vanquishing phase

above motel rooftops

it was gone…leaving me here tonight

washing dishes, looking out the window.

There's a whisper in the winter storm

saying you can't go back,

don't ever look back

Not a crumb on the plates.

Not a stain on the glasses.

Not a wrinkle in the laundry.

Life's like an hourglass of things

that can't be left for tomorrow.

It's a lot like yesterday.

I muse to random snowflakes clinging

to the kitchen window.

Where is my childhood?

From somewhere in the room

a little girl's voice whispers: 

Behind you.

 

Crawling on Back~ Finally home!

Well, here I am; at last, in Vancouver. My fiancé and I are in a hotel room tonight and will hopefully have a place to live tomorrow- which means job hunting will then be underway and so starts my crazy dream of pursuing my full-time novel writing.

It's been a great trip. All in all, we have travelled over 4,000 kilometres together and we're not sick of each other yet, which must be a good sign. I love road trips and the brilliant stories that are told when it's all said and done. The curiosity of discovering a new place means my muses just blossom into life and something sparks the writing bug in me. Vancouver does that. As we crossed the Alberta-British Columbia border, Tom Petty's song "Keep Crawling Back to You" was playing on the stereo. It's true- I always do end up crawling back to this province, this place where I feel so at home. There's something incredibly inspirational about feeling like you're finally home, where you belong and where you have always wanted to be. I've waited four years to be here again and I am ecstatic to start this new life and new story.

Places have stories. That's the joy I find out of road trips. Finding the stories and even making the stories with the people around you. The inside jokes that emerge from spending all that time with one person, the way you're off-the-wall for a while even after the trip ends. Today, standing in a parking lot in North Vancouver with my fiancé, we were almost sad the trip was over because we had so much fun. This, after sitting outside of a Tim Horton's near Penticton at almost midnight wondering when  the road would end, coffee in hand as we sat on the sidewalk and watched the world pass by. I've always a bit of gypsy blood in me. I could live on the road if money and time permitted and still feel the same relief of coming home to the west coast.

Long story short, this is a new beginning; that "something more" I've been looking for all this time and it couldn't feel any better right now. I can't wait to see where my writing journey goes in this amazing city so full of astounding creativity and diversity.

With that said, my fiancé is already fast asleep and the road has taken its toll on the both of us. Off to bed andtomorrow starts a great new life!

Tom Petty- "Keep Crawling Back to You"

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I lost my job but life is a new story

Well, some things happen before you anticipate them to.

I got “let go” from my job at the newspaper today, a week before I was leaving on my own notice. Two complaints later and it cost me a job...well, to say I’m upset or angry would be lying. I’m actually relieved. It means my fiancé and I get to leave early and the pursuit of full-time novel writing happens sooner than I thought it would.

I believe everything happens for a reason. So here I am, watching the Stanley Cup Finals (Vancouver currently trailing behind Boston 2-0...), drinking Captain Morgan’s and Pepsi, and evaluating just where life is going from here. It’s looking good from where I’m sitting.

This time in a week, I’ll be in Vancouver and life will be starting over. As I said before, journalism didn’t quite feel right to begin with but my novels are just drawing me into the fictional worlds I’ve created. I’ve also been digging further into self-publishing. I’m going to publish my poetry book, She Wasn’t Allowed to Giggle on Smashwords.com. I’ll see how it fares as an eBook and then later on I’ll get it printed. This summer will be filled with working, living and advertising these books like crazy. I’m looking forward to it!

Leaving has a strange feeling to it. (well, Boston just scored again...goalie change...) It’s a bittersweet nostalgia looking around this town and knowing that I won’t be coming back. There is no going back. You find a road you feel is right for you, you take it and you make it your own. You travel it until there’s a dead end and you can’t go any further and then you just find another road. I walked the journalism road as far as it would go and here’s the ending of it. At that ending is another beginning- something new that opens up wide and reveals what was meant to be all along.

OK, maybe I’m rambling now about roads and what’s meant to be. Point is, life is meant for living. You only get one time around this crazy Ferris wheel ride and if you don’t take the chance to jump off the top and take a leap of faith into the unknown, you never know just what dreams you can achieve and what you’re really made of. I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, been found in the darkest corners and seen agony like no other. But life is beautiful. I may have had to go through crazy days to get here but I am here and I intend to embrace this new chapter and every story that comes after that.

And losing my job today is only a sign...a new story is starting right now.

I lost my job but life is a new story

Well, some things happen before you anticipate them to.

I got "let go" from my job at the newspaper today, a week before I was leaving on my own notice. Two complaints later and it cost me a job…well, to say I'm upset or angry would be lying. I'm actually relieved. It means my fiancé and I get to leave early and the pursuit of full-time novel writing happens sooner than I thought it would.

I believe everything happens for a reason. So here I am, watching the Stanley Cup Finals (Vancouver currently trailing behind Boston 2-0…), drinking Captain Morgan's and Pepsi, and evaluating just where life is going from here. It's looking good from where I'm sitting.

This time in a week, I'll be in Vancouver and life will be starting over. As I said before, journalism didn't quite feel right to begin with but my novels are just drawing me into the fictional worlds I've created. I've also been digging further into self-publishing. I'm going to publish my poetry book, She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle on Smashwords.com. I'll see how it fares as an eBook and then later on I'll get it printed. This summer will be filled with working, living and advertising these books like crazy. I'm looking forward to it!

Leaving has a strange feeling to it. (well, Boston just scored again…goalie change…) It's a bittersweet nostalgia looking around this town and knowing that I won't be coming back. There is no going back. You find a road you feel is right for you, you take it and you make it your own. You travel it until there's a dead end and you can't go any further and then you just find another road. I walked the journalism road as far as it would go and here's the ending of it. At that ending is another beginning- something new that opens up wide and reveals what was meant to be all along.

OK, maybe I'm rambling now about roads and what's meant to be. Point is, life is meant for living. You only get one time around this crazy Ferris wheel ride and if you don't take the chance to jump off the top and take a leap of faith into the unknown, you never know just what dreams you can achieve and what you're really made of. I've seen a lot of things in my life, been found in the darkest corners and seen agony like no other. But life is beautiful. I may have had to go through crazy days to get here but I am here and I intend to embrace this new chapter and every story that comes after that.

And losing my job today is only a sign…a new story is starting right now.

I'm really doing it: self-publishing

So I mentioned in my last post that I am going to venture into the self-publishing world this year. It's sort of a scary step for me because it's unknown territory, but I am also really excited about this. With everything else that's changing in my life, I figured I might as well try something else new. If it works, it works and if it doesn't, well you only fail if you don't try.

So here's the announcement:

Previously I was going to seek a traditional publisher for my poetry collection, She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle. Instead, it's going to be my first self-published work. I've talked to a lot of fellow writers and have been reading a lot about it, both sides of the argument. There is a constant message about self-publishing for every writer: You are taking a huge risk with it but at the same time you don't know if it will work unless you try it out.

I might be getting in over my head these days- Spellbound by Fire is being released Sept. 15 and the sequel is still on it's first draft. Now I have a wedding to plan, a book to market and soon a self-published work to put a lot of resources into. But I feel ready for the challenge.

She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle is a collection of poetry I have been working on for a long time. It is a compilation of poems I wrote throughout my teenage years when my family was still living with domestic violence and in the years following, including some very recent pieces. I'm excited because it won't only be poetry. I am going to experiment with putting in some old journal entries that will accent what the poems are about and give it a voice of a little girl who was bound to silence and scared for so many years but has broken free of the darkness. It is something I have wanted to publish for a long time.

A preview of some of the poems that are going into She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle are at: http://laviniathompsonauthor.wordpres...

Chasing the dream- and why not?

The past few weeks have been nothing short of chaotic.

Long story short, since the beginning of April I've graduated college, gotten into a new incredible relationship with an amazing guy, Spellbound by Fire got accepted to be published through Hellfire Publishing, I moved an hour away, decided to move again to the west coast, started a new job, got accepted into university for my Communications degree and somewhere in all that I made a decision.

I decided there has to be something more.

Don't get me wrong. These changes have all been for the better. But I've gone through a stage of re-evaluating my life. To backtrack a little, my new job is with a small, weekly newspaper. The stories cover town council meetings, tourist events in a national park; boat inspections being enforced out of fear of a quagga mussel infestation in lakes and so on.

Two or three years ago I thought journalism was what I wanted. Get paid to write? Hey, it was more than I was getting for my novels and poetry back then. I figured it was the way to go. But yesterday afternoon I was sitting in front of that same old computer at my desk, looking up wildlife information and waiting for people to phone or email me back. It's obvious that real-world journalism is nothing like it was in college. College was fun; there was a naive atmosphere that created a buzz. That buzz is gone for me.

I made the Facebook event for Spellbound by Fire's release date (found here: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid...) and I was getting all excited about it again. I glanced at the news story I was working on suddenly questioned- why?

I was questioning why I was sitting in front of a computer screen for eight hours a day writing about things I honestly don't really care about when in fact I could utilize that time for my novels. I wondered why I was going to spend over $14,000 and another year of my life in university for a degree that is not going to change the journalism job market. I'd end up right where I already am- job that isn't completely satisfying, underpaid, and looking seriously at housekeeping jobs again because they'd probably pay more than my diploma is right now. I wondered why work for someone else when I can work for myself and make myself happy.

Then I asked why not?

The thing is, we all question why we work for other people. I questioned why I was writing for someone else when I could write for myself. That in itself made its own decision.

So, the decision is that Victoria, BC is not the destination I intend on for university. I'm not even going to university. The acceptance letter got disregarded and I looked at my Spellbound by Fire Facebook page and smiled. Writing is the only thing I want to do with my life and why not? Why not write? Sure, a menial housekeeping job will be required to start but if I can truly achieve that dream of becoming a full-time novelist then why not go for it? Dreams remain dreams if you don't make them a reality. We make our own happiness.

Ocean view

I'm still going to the west coast. Come the end of June, the boyfriend, my dog, and I will be packing it up and heading west. No more small-town life, no more mediocrity. It's time to make life everything it can be and just live. I'm going to try my hand at self-publishing and see where it takes me. I'm hoping in the next year or so writing will be my full time gig and journalism will be little more than awesome college memories with some amazing people. It's a chance and a risk but no one ever got anywhere not taking any risks.

So that's the big update. And here's a song to go with it. Be unafraid to follow dreams, grasp them with everything you've got, and just love life for everything its worth. You only got one life.

Off to go work on Spellbound II! The future doesn't write itself, you write it for yourself.

Vespertine Shadow (a poem)

Lights flash yellow by midnight

like they always have.

It's the moment it takes to realize

this town isn't where we belong.

Stop at the traffic lights;

stare at the stars,

Leaving out soon

under a darkened

vespertine.

Leaving this town.

Some never thought I could.

Somewhere out on Highway 3

is an end and a beginning…

all we have to do

is drive away

to where mountains give way

to ocean waves.

It makes me wonder

why I waited so long.

Might not be a rebel

like a streaking red star

obliterating sky's peace,

might not be as reckless

as a writhing ghost

at the bottle's bottom

but I am still standing here.

It's time to move on

watching city lights fade into dark;

we will never be here again,

leaving behind just a shadow

in the vespertine.

Where mother stands is where I call home

But you were always that wildflower

on the hill, the poet in my heart,

the waves crashing in the sea of love,

songs I love cause they make more sense to me

while you are in the world.

Every petal is a soul of their own

and every soul needs a place to land

when winter's bitterness melts away

into eternal light of spring.

Let it be the home which keeps you warm

when she is long far away.

Let us be soft petals to land in her hands

for where my mother stands

is where I call home.

Mothers are an incredibly special species of human beings and everyone has her own story. I have watched my own overcome adversities I didn't know existed until I seen them. Single mother of three, enduring domestic violence for a number of years, worked at times for 16 hours a day, currently works 12 hour shifts, and all the while, through everything, always put her kids first. There has always been strength in her that I have always wanted in myself, the kind that gets her through anything that comes up. Her patience can stretch years so it sometimes seems. She truly is my hero.

I often remark that everything I know I learned from my mother. And it's true. The things life didn't teach me I found out through her. The world is such a huge place and it's easy to get lost in all the faces and places that surround you when you're somewhere you don't know. Anywhere I go, I always have her voice in the back of my mind and I frequently find myself asking "What would Mom do??"

Words don't quite say just how special a mother is. She is a being who has all the unconditional love, acceptance, compassion, sympathy, support, understanding and wisdom that we venture out to try and find elsewhere in the world. You never do find it again all in one place because they are all a magical conglomeration of things that make up this amazing being. You go out into the world and try to find something that comes close. And maybe you do. But we all eventually trek home and wind up on her doorstep or on the phone crying over life's trials. Even at three in the morning, she will stay up and listen until you feel a bit better.

This is dedicated to all the amazing mothers out there with their own stories. Thanks for everything you do.

Dreaming Out Loud

Nothing has a warmer eloquence

than your touch on a rainy night;

scheming an escape

from this town.

Pains wash through

sidewalk cracks, rain drops trickle

mystified.

Street lights,

stars,

like they could be plucked

delicately from the sky

to lay gentle on skin.

Heart beats upon night

shade blacker than dark.

Ominous,

strange,

moonlight;

a darkened vespertine

veiled dramatically

over cracks in the mask

of the girl she used to be,

breaking free like

a butterfly;

free,

wild,

steady,

silhouetted, a silent scene

while dreaming out loud.

Years go by

still standing here.

This town sucks the life

from your soul, I swear.

But it's coming back…

enlightening,

alive,

breathing.

If we run

there's no need to look back.