L.M. Fields's Blog, page 2

Quote of the day

“Tears are the diamonds of your soul.” Quote by LM Fields

AND THE OSCAR SHOULD GO TO…

A hush filled the grand auditorium in Hollywood. The woman in her luxurious velvet gown smiled so perfectly, her body was liken to a goddess to behold; so exquisite. But her words were different and the crowd of celebrities shifted in their seats.

“Would the person who created this story, who put words to paper so beautifully that the producer, director, cast, crew and entire team would not have been able to turn his world into a movie, please stand up… for this Oscar goes to…”

Shouldn’t every single movie, up for an award, give one to their writer first? Why don’t we, movie enthusiasts, know before anything else, the writer of the movie we are about to see, or at least know the writer’s name once the movie is over? They certainly blast the cast ‘n crew in media headliners before, during, and after the movie, but you never hear about the writer. Why? Why don’t we know their name and know what they look like? Why doesn’t the media do the mad scramble dash to interview them, showcasing the creator behind all these movies? For without the writers, the movies we love to watch would cease to exist in the first place.

I dedicate this to all the forgotten writers; the ghost writers, and writers who should get recognized but don’t, or don’t nearly enough. You are the beginning spark that makes the magic we watch on screen. Thank you so much for doing what you love and loving what you do. You really do make the world go ’round.

BREAKING DOWN THE COOKIE QUOTE

“When bananas don’t work… eat a cookie.”

I find this world just keeps getting harder and harder to live in. It’s a constant struggle to stay positive with so much negativity oozing from every nook and cranny… whether it’s at the highest forms of power or down to the every day people you see at work or the store, they are everywhere and seem to be increasing in number. This is why I have adopted the Minions into my life to cheer me up, and why I created the quote above.

You might wonder what does it mean?

Bananas are good for you, they are healthy, full of potassium. That’s all positive, but sometimes, no matter how hard you might try to do something good for someone, it doesn’t matter and they will continue to be nasty towards you. There’s nothing more you can do with these kinds of toxic people, but there’s something you can and should do for yourself. And that is, eat a cookie!

That’s right! Reward yourself for even trying to do the right thing because God knows it’s getting harder and harder to do what’s right for the right reasons. You shouldn’t stop trying but you’ll need to get your energy back up. Cookies allow you to find your ‘happy’ again. Never stop trying, never stop giving, and never stop remembering we’ve all had our purple days. If each of us can turn just one person around with the kindness we show then think how much better our world will be! If giving one of your cookies might do the trick then go for it! Maybe it’ll work? If not, put as much distance between you and those who are toxic before moving on.

Love and hugs to you! Going to make some cookies. My supply has been devastated.

Filed under: COOL FANS, PENNY THOUGHTS

A CONSEQUENCE-FREE WORLD

 

God bless you, Charlottefre Dawson, you and your heart will be missed.

How many lives must be destroyed? How many beautiful people must die before the people responsible for what is known as Troll Attacks will be held responsible for their actions? For years now, they have had their way, let loose like wild animals to roam the internet like trolling mobsters, seeking their next innocent victim(s) for target practice. Once you’re in their game, if you don’t follow their rules, ones they never live by, then you are punished accordingly.

The first hit is always the surprise attack that knocks you on your ass. If you ask questions, recovering, standing up to brush yourself off, you are slammed down to the ground. If you didn’t get the shut up message from that, and try to defend yourself, you are attacked more. In fact, the more you struggle to speak up as is your first amendment right to do so, if you ask for help, they will get their entire trolling mob upon you to shatter your world. Shame on you for speaking up! Take a tip: you fuel their fire and they relish in the drama they started. They crave the attention and the spotlight as long as they can keep their mask on. You feed their need.

So where are the companies that could do something about this? Why aren’t they banning accounts and helping those victims when their pleas for help go out like flares in the middle of the night? You wouldn’t believe who some of these trolls are. They come in all shapes and sizes, working sometimes in the very same field as you, might even be your competition or pretend to be your friend. They are psychotic and have psychological problems but still, where are the companies that could help you? Good question! I’m still wondering myself and praying there’s a good answer as I still hear lots of crickets out there while the hateful words, threats, and unwarranted, lying reviewers continue. Read this recent tragedy of a beautiful modeling judge from Australia’s Top Model who suffered from depression and the consequence of what trolling did to her.

Charlotte Dawson was hammered by trolls on Twitter and their actions lead to her death. She suffered from depression but despite her disability, she tried to overcome it by living life to the fullest. Her world started to fall apart when she spoke out against troll attacks, people saying hateful things to others and in turn the attacks turned on her. What will the consequences be for her attackers? Do they even care or feel they are responsible? Do they have any empathy? Or are they that psychologically damaged?

Charlotte had a heart and was willing to share it with the world while she was with us but now she is no longer with us. Will her death be in vane? How many more will be made to suffer? How many careers will be ruined? How many will die before something is done? Every action and non-action has a consequence. It’s time people are held accountable or else we will end up living in a world filled with trolls and when all the innocent are gone, they’ll eventually have to eat their own.

Filed under: COOL FANS

INVISIBLE SCARS

“Have you been abused? Did you break the chain? There is hope.” LM Fields

How I wish there wasn’t abuse in the world. I wish none of them were children, but that’s how it works; the abused grow up to continue the abuse they experienced when they were little. The chain is rarely broken, why? Maybe because it can’t be? Wrong. It can be, but it means looking inside, and having the courage to face your darkest fears. You can heal some of the pain. It may take you a lifetime but there’s hope so it’s never too late to start.

Abuse comes in many forms. It doesn’t discriminate. The most damaging kind of abuse is never seen, it eats away at the very soul of the victim, leaving invisible scars that burn deep. I’m not sure if these ever go away. Do they fade over time? Maybe, speaking from experience, it’s been twenty plus years and I’m still trying to find that answer. Is it possible to live a happy, productive life? Yes, but be ready to face your worst nightmares over and over again. It means letting go, and breaking the cycle of abuse. This will be your greatest gift to your children, and the lives of those you touch, breaking the chain.

I made a promise I would never repeat the abuse and pain I experienced when I had my own children and to that promise I kept true, but I never realized there was one more person I didn’t include; I continued to hurt her. I continued where my attackers left off. I was psychologically abusing myself, something those I had left behind had done all my life, over and above the physical abuse. They programmed me so well. I believed the painful words they ingrained in me. They treated me like garbage so I believed I was not worthy of being treating any better. I was pushed around, made to feel subservient, without a brain to think with, especially when I spouted off with something intelligent to say, and I always paid the price for it later.

I thought I freed myself when I left, in a way I did, but I failed to realize was they still had control. I was a prisoner of my own mind. They had me under brain arrest and I never demanded the keys to my soul back. It took me more than twenty years before I ever went to that place, and found the courage to take a stand. It was a mental stand, one I made on my own, and when I did, I felt as though I died– and for three days I wanted to– but I wiped my tears and felt a new inner strength. I was starting all over again. I was really free!

I don’t know what you have experienced, God willing, you’ve never been abused, but if you have, you can’t find your solution in a bottle, at the end of a cigarette, or in any combination of drugs. Hooking up with another abuser will not make you feel worthy or feel any better, it will only cut open old wounds as they pour more salt into you. Do you have children? You are endangering them. Whether you realize it or not, you are subjecting them to, if nothing else, all kinds of stress at a bare minimum. If you love your children then you will seek help for yourself, and for them.

The invisible scars damage the soul. As you abuse yourself, you will in turn abuse everyone around you. You will continually make excuses for everything that goes wrong in your life as you make wrong choices. You will never take responsibility for your actions because that means having to look into that mirror where the demons live and that means seeing the truth. The truth will never go away, and the longer you try to ignore it, the worse you will make every moment for yourself and those around you. If you only hurt yourself, you automatically hurt your children, teaching them by example they should have no respect for themselves or you. If you bully your children, you teach them how to be when they grow up, or worse yet, they are practicing this behavior now on other children weaker than themselves at school.

All you do has a ripple effect. Your past can haunt or teach you. You can learn from it and move on, or you can pretend it never happened and live in a fantasy that hurts every life you come in contact with. You can be toxic, or healing. Everything starts and ends with you making a decision. Why not try something new? Become the beautiful angel you were born to be, take back the life you were meant to have. Face the darkness and cry. It’s all right… that’s called hope.

Filed under: PENNY THOUGHTS

TRUE LOVE

Always and forever, tell those you are with just how much they mean to you. Show them how much you love them… every single day.

Filed under: PENNY THOUGHTS

THE YEAR OF KARMA 2014

What goes around, comes around. History does repeat itself. If we took even a moment to remember and learn from the past we might not be doomed to repeat it, but Karma has a way of giving back what we put out into the world, and dare I say… universe.

From the day you are born, you are programmed to believe you are not in control of your life, your destiny, and so you fight that inner instinct to be truly be free. You give little pieces of that spark inside you away. Bit-by-bit, you break off more and more until you feel there’s more of you to give. This form of mental enslavement, zombie vacation, is meant to put you asleep, keep you well behaved, so you won’t ask questions, or at least not any questions that make a difference. It’s time to wake up.

If my dreams and intuition are true, then Karma will be kicking up several notches starting this year, a pleasant surprise for those of us who are already awake for we will get to witness something rare: Karma at work… it’s normally so painfully slow! Imagine seeing the deserving, those who pay it forward, getting their good deeds returned to them three-fold. Those who have sacrificed everything for others finally seeing their bills paid off somehow. In turn, for all those people who have done so much wrong, they will have to face their demons. For some, it will be a blessing, changing their lives forever and for the better, but for the truly evil, they will run, they will hide, and they will devour their own before they are made to suffer.

If what I’ve seen, and if all I’ve been shown is true, then it has already begun. All you have to do is make a choice. In the end, only you have the final say over your soul. Either way, even if I am wrong, wouldn’t you rather do what it is right for the right reasons? Don’t you want to leave a beautiful mark wherever you go? We leave impressions everywhere, with everyone we meet, we should always want those impressions to be as positive as possible. What kind of future do you want? Mold your tomorrow in the actions you do today.

Filed under: NEWS FLASH

THE LAST SPARROW Chapter Release!

 

CHAPTER 1: Call Me Prophet

 

“Freedom is sacred,” my father used to tell me, “but it never comes free.”

I didn’t fully understand the words until he paid the ultimate price for my freedom with his own life. I lost my family and friends the day another piece of America was absorbed into the New World Order. Two thousand thirteen, the Great Shift and the time before Newmerica was born from the ashes. I wasn’t named Prophet at birth, I earned the name after becoming a soldier. I served in World War III, left in a forgotten place where I went digging for water and found an unusual object; a beautiful, golden amulet. I remember the wasteland like it was yesterday.

The air was painfully thick; fine grit dust swirled above my head in powerful winds. Except for my left arm, I couldn’t move much. I reached across the hot sand, my bloody hand quivering. I tried to wipe my burning eyes but it was too late; I was blind. I stretched my muscles another quarter inch, grappling for whatever I could find, when I cut my wrist on a piece of shrapnel. My fingertips touched the cushioned radio antennae, my life-line. I pulled gently at first, then harder until its speaker rested against my mouth. I licked my salty, cracked lips and held the button down.

“Dragon Core,” I coughed up burnt granules, “this is Prophet. Do you read me? Over.”

I barely talked above a whisper. It would take a miracle to hear me in this storm. The radio crackled before my team broke through. I lifted my ear.

“Dragon Core… it’s Prophet, I repeat, this is Papa1. Relay my position, over.” I dropped my head and tried to breathe. I waited but my team didn’t respond. I blacked out.

I woke to a dark sky, alone and in the same, God forsaken place; my body buried in sand with a over glorified walkie-talkie for a pillow. The hard box didn’t bring me comfort but it kept my head elevated; I lived to see another sunrise.

The storm dissipated. The bombs had moved on; their signatures lingered in the vomit green sky like a floating mushroom farm. Those damn things looked tasty. I rolled to my side and felt a bone snap. I was too hungry to care which one. I searched my pockets for food and found bug infested granola. I cringed but ate them all; licking my fingers clean before the crawling protein could escape.

I was a soldier with the Special Ops unit, survival was what we did best. I was no exception. I would be found. In what manner, dead or alive, was up to me. The granola would seal my doom… I needed water.

My entrenching tool was in my pack a few broken legs away. I used my arms to drag myself, folded arm over folded arm. I yanked the shovel from my ruck sack. I don’t know what possessed me to move any more than what I had already, but I guess I relished in torturing myself further until I was satisfied with the perfect digging spot.

I don’t remember how many suns came up to burn my face or went down to chill my bones, but several more mushrooms sprouted by the time I finally struck water. My hands were raw and blistered. I found my trusty pen stuck in my boot and took it apart. Everything I needed, the barrel and round screen at the end, was all there in this genius design.

I put the makeshift filtering straw into the hole and thought back to when I was a kid, drinking old fashioned Root Beer Floats in my grandfather’s illegal, watershed distillery. His were the best, and the only place in town, in the state for that matter, where you could still get a soda. The desperate townsfolk would have turned Gramps in, but not us kids. We kept secrets and my grandfather was good at giving us our due rewards. Father knew the dangers but he was an American, through and through. He passed the torch of courage, the family badge of honor, on to me. I promised to wear it proudly just as our family always had.

I never broke my promise. I never will.

I still remember the glimmer coming off the amulet’s amazingly unmarred metallic cage. It seemed the hardened soil wasn’t ready to release its pretty prisoner, but the artifact wanted to be found, and I was the one it had been waiting for. I became its Keeper. Like my father before me, and his father before him, I was destined to keep the artifact’s secrets hidden, protected until the proper moment. The chain it hung from wasn’t heavy but the burden of responsibility was far greater than I had ever imagined it would become. None of my visions prepared me for this.

I put it around my neck and tucked the amulet beneath my uniform. Within minutes my luck changed as my radio sparked to life. “Papa1, this is Dragon Core. Do you copy? Papa1, this is Dragon Core. Come in, Prophet… where are you buddy?”

I was exhausted. My arms failed to drag my body anywhere. I barely turned myself around when the transmission failed and static returned, but it didn’t matter.

Somewhere in the distance I heard chopper blades whirring. It was them, I knew it, Dragon Core had found me and locked into my coordinates. I was finally going home.

“You’re already home, Prophet. It’s time you wake up and remember.”

“Who’s there?” I reached for a weapon that was no longer at my side. I turned my head but I was still alone. The chopper was off in the distance but it sounded so close.

“Sir Kay, you need to remember. Wake up!”

I sat up, perspiration pouring down my face, my hand clasped around a poor ferret’s neck. I heard the whirring of chopper blades outside. I was in a Monastery.

Suddenly, it all came back to me. “Wait!” I jumped to my feet but I fell to the hard tile floor. “Oh God, please…” My legs were weak. “No, don’t leave! You can’t!” I called for help but no one came. “Come back!”

Filed under: COOL FANS, SPOT LIGHTS

NEW BOOK RELEASE!

 

EDGE OF ABADDON JUST RELEASED!

Author & Artist: LM Fields 

Year of our Lord 2031, and The Grand Order Illuminatis of the New World Order has it all worked out until their False Prophet bows before the real Lord of Darkness and finds a new place by his Master’s side without his consent. Satan’s hordes of Abaddon prepare for the last supper while the storm gathers strength like a cancer blotting out the sun. With a little help from the archangel Raphael, a long awaited plan is finally set in motion but it could be too little too late. Still, hope is not surrendered and a secret brotherhood, sworn to fight the forces of evil, push on, protecting four unlikely characters who must face their fears and unsurmountable odds in this race against time to save the soul of humanity.

Exciting News Dark Seeds Fans! Feed your need again! New readers, taste what you’ve been missing! Start collecting your Dark Seeds now! The 4rth book, Edge of Abaddon, was released November 7th on Amazon. This action packed, character driven story, is a mixed genre series you don’t want to miss. Download your copy today!

Filed under: NEWS FLASH, SPOT LIGHTS

INDIE AUTHORS ROCK!

1901 Beatrix Potter, one of the first self-published books.

THE INDIE AUTHOR JOB DESCRIPTION

Writer, Editor, Agent, Publisher, Graphic Designer, Public Relations Representative, Creative Marketing Director, & Financial Accountant

I am proud to be an Indie Author. I have seen self-published books ranging from the horrible to the outstanding, and while I have my own personal preferences for what I like to read, excellent literature like the works of Tolkein, King, or Howey, I think about and consider the blood, sweat, and tears that went into getting the story created in the first place.

What did the author sacrifice to breathe life into his creation, put it on paper, and give it to the world? Would his story be any less note worthy if he were an Indie Author? Did he work harder if he self-published? I don’t know. Every situation is different depending on the circumstances. The sad truth these days is traditionally published authors sometimes find themselves doing the same amount of work as Indie Authors but have less rights, and see only a tiny fraction of the profits.

Why do you think so many traditionally published, famous authors, are becoming Indie Authors? Whether they choose to be Indie Authors full or part-time, when they do it, they don’t have anymore contracts to sign or worry over, they answer to nobody but themselves, they set their own rules, writing what they want when they want, they make 70% of the profits, not whatever small amount it was before… you get the idea… I could go on and on about the differences.

As you can see, there are many important keys, but when it comes to doing the work, there’s just as much to be done unless you already have a name for yourself, and/or have the money to hire a marketing team, and editor so you can focus on the writing as we all wish we could do. In truth, being an Indie Author means you must wear all the hats unless you are wealthy enough to buy them for others to wear for you.

Yes, I’m proud to be an Indie Author, and someday, the big wig NY leaches will figure out a way to creep into our growing industry we currently have control of. Until that day arrives, creative writers are able to breathe in the freedom and readers are still free to choose for themselves what is crap and what isn’t. Being an Indie Author is hard work, but the pay off is sweet and most importantly, it’s ours!

“Indie Authors rock because they don’t give up on their dreams, even when others tell them they should.” Quote by LM Fields

Filed under: PENNY THOUGHTS