#Read about Guest #Author D. Wallace Peach

A wonderful exposition on the creations of new myth, and their independent immortal existence.

Chris The Story Reading Ape's avatarChris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Thanks, Chris, for the opportunity to monkey around on your famous blog! I’ve seen your invites for several months and have said to myself “someday.” It appears someday has arrived.

D. Wallace PeachI’m one of those writers who rarely struggles with writer’s block. I can write 16 hours a day and never run dry of words …until someone asks me to write about myself. My mind goes blank, every articulate thought sucked through a black hole into another dimension. The urge to regurgitate my 3rd grade demographics starts sounding like a decent backup plan. What does a fantasy writer who lives entirely in her head have to say about her “real” life?

I didn’t start writing until I turned fifty… ancient compared to most writers I know. Am I envious of those enjoying an early start, regretful that it took me so long to find my calling? You betcha. If I could…

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In The Chair 26

A guest appearance , invited by Jan Ruth to answer questions with elbow room for fantasy. I could be inspired to host dinners with fantasy guests forever. Sometimes one only , like Shakespeare- far too mean to share HIM ( unless it was with Beethoven).

Any time you doubt your own worth, remember this story…

Since this is a story that has led to a fair few tears ( see comments on the original post) I thought a few others might enjoy shedding theirs.

Chris The Story Reading Ape's avatarChris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

The Black Telephone…

When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood..

I remember the polished, old case fastened to the Wall.

The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box.

I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person.

Her name was “Information Please” and there was nothing she did not know.

Information Please could supply anyone’s number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor.

Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked…

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English Pronunciation – a Poem

Worth contemplation and a lot of sympathy!

Nicholas C. Rossis's avatarNicholas C. Rossis

I found this on Tickld and just had to share! According to the original post, if you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world. And, after trying the verses, a Frenchman said he’d prefer six months of hard labor to reading six lines aloud…

This Greek gave up somewhere along two thirds into it 🙂

From the blog of Nicholas C. Rossis, author of science fiction, the Pearseus epic fantasy series and children's books

Given up yet? Why not read my award-winning children’s book, Runaway Smile for free instead?

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: HEMISPHERE

Asitougttobe finds jewels on a regular basis- a prospector with a fine panning sieve!

Sivan Butler-Rotholz's avatarThe As It Ought to Be Archive

hemisphere

From HEMISPHERE
By Ellen Hagan:

RIVER. WOMAN.

I.
Downriver is always long
& always flailing, finding

where our lives begin,
intersect?  You, your bones

the humped slope of nose
browned skin of home.

You, sand. You, ocean.
You, bending & me.

How many nights we sleep
alone, our bodies rising—

what it means to miss you.
What it means to expand.
What it means to be birthed.
What it means to be sacred.
What it means to go home.

Place of birth, birthing
ground. Ground that is sacred.
You that is sacred.

Bones that hold together.  Bind.
Bound to you.  My mother.

II.
Me
I am bound to you.  My mother.
You stitch me from inside.  Hollowed.
your split sheath of self, your letters
the slow cursive of your language,
can’t I hear your voice, always?

Her
Lock the doors.  Latch the locks.
Shut the windows.  Close the blinds.
Cover up…

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Where I Live

Tell you a lot about fiction, this post, and why fiction works. It also shows how much of ‘fiction’ relies on the eye of the beholder!

D. Wallace Peach's avatarMyths of the Mirror

If you’ve been following my blog for a bit, you might have figured out that I live in the coastal mountains of northwest Oregon, in a rainforest of giant trees and moss.  Our quaint town is 10 miles down the road and the big city is an hour or two away (depending on elk, ice, fog, snow, logging trucks, and the intended destination).  Cell phone service is non-existent, and our entertainment comes by satellite including the internet which is  s…l…o…w…  and I mean    s………l………o………w

Yet, I love living out here.

To give you a better idea of this place, I’ve created one of those fun “Where I live” graphics. There is no exaggeration in this post AT ALL.

Where I live

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“From the Four Corners of the Earth”~ Jung’s words on avoiding our souls

This fresh salad tossed with Jung dressing ( mix equal parts sherry vinegar and virgin impulse) is worth repeating.

Viv's avatarZen and the Art of Tightrope Walking

From the Four Corners of the Earth”~ Jung’s words on avoiding our souls 

As you may know, I’ve been reading my way through the works of Jung that I can afford or obtain. It’s a slow thing, because I do not wish to rush the experience. I take time over each page, and sometimes I stay with it for quite a long while. Things sometimes leap off the page at me and I make a note or put in a little page marker.

The other night, the following struck me from The Earth Has a Soul (a collection of his writings on Nature, technology and modern life)

People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. They will practice Indian yoga and all its exercises, observe a strict regimen of diet, learn theosophy by heart, or mechanically repeat mystic texts from…

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: RAFAEL ALBERTI

A new voice for me. Arresting voice.

St George’s Day special offer

Please share this opportunity where you can!

Viv's avatarZen and the Art of Tightrope Walking

Well, St George is the patron saint of England, even though he probably didn’t slay any dragons (endangered species!) and was certainly not English. However, for some reason he’s our patron saint and I’m very English and so are my books.

So, in light of that, Away With The Fairies (contains no dragons or saints, as such) is on a special countdown offer starting from today and will be 99p (or thereabouts) in the UK for three days before rising to a mere £1.99 for another three days before returning to its original and very reasonable price. It would be vastly appreciated if you pass this on to any friends, family and social media network as the greater the reach, the better the book will do. Thank you.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Away-Fairies-Vivienne-Tuffnell-ebook/dp/B005RDS02A/ref=la_B00766135C_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1429773708&sr=1-1

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: MIRIAM’S SONG

A joyful aspect for the Easter rising.

Sivan Butler-Rotholz's avatarThe As It Ought to Be Archive

Feuerbach_Mirjam_2

“Miriam the prophetess” by Anselm Feuerbach. Public Domain image.

“Miriam the prophetess… took the tambourine in her hand; and all the women followed her with tambourines and dances. And Miriam called to them: Sing…” (Exodus 15:20-21)

Editor’s Note: The most important thing that has happened to Passover this year is the Notorious RBG’s decree that when we remember the Exodus, we need to remember the women. First and foremost among them, for me, is Miriam. The unsung hero of what is usually thought of as “Moses’ story,” Miriam is responsible for everything from Moses’ birth to his survival to providing water for the Israelites throughout their forty-year-sovereign in the desert. The first person in the Bible to be called a prophet, Miriam was beloved by her people but less-loved by her creator, who struck her down with leprosy to teach her the consequences of a woman voicing her opinion.

Song…

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