musings on life, love and laughter from my spoken heart to yours


Sharing… our precious creative babies…

I must confess I have been seriously contemplating how far to go with sharing here on my blog.  Although I am quite an open individual, I am also quite contrarily very closed and private. A walking juxtaposition I fear. I am afraid of sharing. I am scared to reveal the inner workings of my mind.

I am afraid because perhaps what I wish to share is not what I think it is. Perhaps I am enamoured because I have birthed it, only to find my glorious beautiful swan is really just an ugly duckling. My eyes may be blind as parents’ eyes often are. Our children are always the most beautiful, the handsomest, the most intelligent, the kindest. It is hard to look at them clearly, to see them in direct light and criticize what we see. Head in the sand is so much easier.

This holds true for our creative expression as well. Those children birthed from the recesses of our minds. In some ways finding fault in these children can be harder. As our earthly blood children grow we learn to accept them as individuals who are learning and aging and becoming independent (hard as this step in life is, it does happen). And in some ways the opposite can also hold true for the things that are birthed out of our creative selves. Sometimes what we see reveals parts of ourselves that we wish to keep hidden. Sometimes those revelations are so bold and blinding. Yet often it is only ourselves who can see those things we wish to keep hidden, since others do not generally know our intimate selves so deeply.

See I write stories. OK that is not entirely true. I START stories. I sort of have a problem with being unorganized and scatter brained combined with a severe inability to follow through. I have started a few of these stories that I so love to write, stories that have the potential to become novellas/novels and yet haven’t become much more than a prologue or first chapter. It is not about procrastination or a lack of desire to finish. Really it isn’t.

Perhaps just like a child I am trying to hold on to it as long as I can, afraid to let it go? Perhaps…

It’s difficult you see, for when an idea happens… well that is exactly how it unfolds – It just happens. I just sit down and it pours from my finger tips into the keys, or through the pen, which ever it is at my disposal. I do not think about it. I do not sit down with the intent to write something, trying to decide how it will go. I do not plan. I just open myself up and write it down.  And then I hit the point of being done for that time, where what needed release is now out in the open and the words dry up. It is like the idea just withers up and drifts away. But I can feel it lingering on the edgings of memory and I know it’s there. I sense it. But I cannot quite recall it. I cannot quite reach it. Like a dream in the morning. I know I had it. I know it meant something but it eludes me.

You see it’s like the story is trapped deep inside of me and even though I have an idea how it should unfold I cannot seem to get this information down onto the paper. I write, I read and it’s all wrong. So I rewrite and I read and again it’s wrong. So I walk away… and I flounder in this strange place where the words are floating just below the surface. I know what they should be. But I can’t seem to get them onto the paper in the form that they were when they were perfect and illustrative and reflective floating there below that surface. Instead they are jerking, halting, a foreign language – the fluidity is gone. They become harsh and ugly and show a distorted reflection of what I had beheld in my minds eye.

I want to share these ‘stories’ with you and yet I can’t seem to bring myself too… I have been fighting with myself on this for a few months now. What if they are no good? Or what if they are genius and some-one else took my ideas and perfected them? (Oh but how can one perfect genius? I suppose they could bring it to completion…)

So now that I have piqued your interest… should I share my handful of prologues with you all? Or leave it like all the other things I have avoided sharing?

P.S. the DoodleArt is coming along nicely I should be sharing that soon enough. In the next few weeks.

P.P.S. My mic works well, but again I am not feeling as eager to share as I had thought I would be… Give me time… it will come.


little dove

Sorrow – drawn 2008

Close your eyes my little dove
Just rest awhile here in my love
Heart is broken, tears are shed
As you sleep in an eternal bed
Death may take you far away
But in my heart you’ll always stay

This post is dedicated to anyone who has ever experienced the sorrow of a miscarriage. The picture ‘Sorrow’ was drawn one evening after I had received news that a friend was being sent to hospital because the doctors were afraid she was going to lose her unborn child (she didn’t thankfully).

The poem ‘Little Dove’ was written this year when some-one my eldest daughter knew – through a maternity web page – had shared the sad news that she had lost her baby.


and now for something different….

Today I have decided to post some art work… two different pieces with Lions:

Lion Cub

Lion Cub – revision
playing with shading and texture

The Lion – a progression
the right side is the beginning rough in,
the left is how far I am now…

I may post the completed picture when and if I ever get there…

This artwork is the property of MySpokenHeart, and its creator Andrea C.
please do not replicate or re-post without permission. Thank-you.