Merry Christmas!

Greetings! I have not been intentionally ignoring my blog, just working hard to get my first novel edited for Children of the Wells, where you can find some of my more recent articles.

http://www.childrenofthewells.com/

Anyhow, last month I entered a Christmas short story contest, and managed to place third! Given that this is the first writing competition I've ever been involved in, I'm honored and excited that my story was showcased. If you would like to read the story and get into the Christmas spirit, check out the link below:

The Tale of the Ivory Tinderbox

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, and look forward to much more blogging (and stories!) in 2016!

-Greg

All Work And No Play

Maybe you should take a break...

Last week I talked about the importance of putting aside distractions to follow your dreams. After posting the article, however, I had a discussion with one of my friends about the topic and realized that I left something important out. See, it’s important to understand your priorities and to put your work first over distraction. What I left out is that the writer needs to know when to put the digital pen down and take a break.

I have this nagging mentality where I need to feel like I’m working, or I believe I’m lazy. It’s something I’ve struggled with since I was a teenager. I keep thinking back to when I was a kid and didn’t do much housework like picking up my room, and my parents would scold me for it. The same goes for my first job, where my first boss screamed at me many times for apparently slacking on the job. I hated the lectures so I started getting tough on myself. As I’d get older, I’d constantly have to do things around the house or at my job, or I’d tell myself that I didn’t take my tasks seriously enough. This harmful mentality seeped into my work mentality; nothing I’d do would cease these thoughts from haunting me.

When writing came into the picture, I got even tougher on myself. I’d spend nights working on drafts for school, as well as my own personal projects. I’d go out to my writing space, stare at my screen, and try to write. Some nights, the creative juices would flow and I’d be productive. Other nights I’d stare at the screen and wish I had a spell from Harry Potter to make my work magically appear.

I spent months working on my final project, agonizing over every detail of it. I’d write for a page, become dissatisfied with my work, delete it, and start all over. When I wasn’t writing, I was thinking about writing and what to do with my story. Deadlines would come and go, yet I had nothing to show for my effort. Even at work my thoughts would be consumed with the writing I had to do once I got home.

I mentally beat myself up for my lack of progress, calling myself lazy and a failure for not having my story past even the first act. I couldn’t think straight, and I doubted anything I put my hands on. Without knowing it, I had worked myself to a mental exhaustion. There was even a point where the deadlines seeped into my dreams, and I’d have nightmares of my professors demanding to see my work. It absolutely broke me, and I began to think I wasn’t cut out to be a writer. I had reached one of the deepest and darkest points in my career as an author, and I hadn’t even published a single story.

One evening in October 2012 while driving home from my job with my wife, I had an honest heart to heart talk with her. I bore my soul to her, revealing all of the doubt and frustration I had about writing hidden in my head. I told her about how little progress I had made and how I didn’t know if I’d even earn the degree I spent so much money striving towards. She knew I was exhausted mentally and emotionally, and completely had my back.  We decided the best course of action would be for me to take a semester off and take a sabbatical from doing anything creative so I could refocus my mind and restart my creative engine.

That’s exactly what I did. I shut my laptop off, turned the creative switch off in my brain, and allowed myself to be lazy. I did all the things I scolded myself earlier for doing. I watched the TV shows that I had missed, played my neglected video games, and began reading the fictional books I’d been eying for years. I let myself just relax and unwind for those months without any external pressures to accomplish something. It was liberating not having any sort of pressure on myself and giving my mind a chance to just take a break and not be creative. I wouldn’t let myself feel guilty for unwinding and having fun.

See, video games and TV watching are perfectly fine in moderation. We writers and creatives can guilt ourselves for not practicing our craft, but we also need to remember to give our brain a break. Mental fatigue can creep in, and we can completely miss it. Much like our physical muscles, our minds need time to unwind, be entertained, and not focus on that one scene we can’t seem to figure out. Sometimes, the answer for these problems is to get up, walk away, and do something else. When we let our minds rest and recharge, we can come back later and look at our problem and come up with a solution that wouldn’t have occurred to us if we tried working through our fatigue. Now, there are times we have deadlines we can’t avoid, but that’s why it’s essential to purposely schedule break times in to make sure we don’t run into these issues.

After taking my extended break, I jumped right back into my final project in the summer of 2013. By then I was mentally ready to take on my last great school challenge. I began running into the same issue I had before with my story – I couldn’t figure out how to rewrite my outline. But after thinking about it for a bit, I realized my original outline actually worked and only needed minor adjustments; I could change direction when I felt it was necessary. It freed me to get started on my script, and over the next several months I managed to not only initially write it, but to completely rewrite it in less than a week when my professor told me it was too long (but that’s another story…).

I credit my success in this attempt because I chose to look after my mental health and take a long break from my story. I wasn’t able to see this solution until I took the time to relax, recharge, and let myself have fun. Remember writers: you need to take care of your mind, so turn the creative side off from time to time and recharge.

So don’t throw away your TV or all of your video games; play them every once and awhile. You’re allowed to have fun and it’ll do you good. That story isn’t going anywhere while you’re gone, I promise. Once you’ve had your fun, be disciplined to put them aside and get back to your passion. Your writing will benefit from it.

Do you have a workaholic problem like I do? Tell me about it in the comments section and we’ll talk about it. You’re not alone. Keep writing friends, and remember, you can do it.

The Unexpected Cost

Choose wisely...

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to become a writer. It’s been a powerful dream that stuck with me over the years. Being the young, naïve lad I was, I thought it simply meant that you sat in front of a computer and wrote. Yes, that’s part of it, but as I began down this path I learned there’s much more to it than that. If you’re going to write, it’s going to cost you something. Writing takes lots of hard work and dedication. The more you focus on honing your skills, the less time you have for other things in life. There is a cost in pursuing your dreams, and there are things you will have to sacrifice in order to reach it.

First let’s get this out of the way: you can’t sacrifice your personal relationships. Being a husband is the most important job I have, and if I have to choose between being a writer or a good husband, I’m picking being a good husband. Likewise, family and friends are vital to your emotional wellbeing and shouldn’t be forgotten in the pursuit of writing. You might not be able to go to every event with your friends and family, but you can’t disregard them.

Also, you can’t sacrifice reading books and articles. Reading is how you develop your vocabulary, as well as cultivate your imagination. By reading the works of others, you’re exposed to different writing techniques and storytelling that will help shape your voice on the page. Reading gives your brain a workout and prepares you for structuring your own story and helps you through mental blocks.

Everything else is totally fair game for cutting down in your life. This includes television and video games, two things that are near and dear to my heart. The more I pursue writing, the more I’ve come to terms in eliminating these out of my life. Let me be the first to tell you, this is painful. Television and video games aren’t evil; in fact, I think they’re enjoyable and useful to wind down with after a long and frustrating day. But if you’re not careful, they have a habit of controlling your free time.

Back when I was a kid, I thought being an adult meant I could play video games as much as I wanted without being weighed down by schoolwork. As soon as I finished college, I dived headlong into my childhood passion and became a hardcore gamer. I collected all the retro games I wanted as a child, and played the newest releases that caught my fancy. I joined gaming forums, subscribed to gaming podcasts, and read up on all the upcoming releases. It was a joyous time, beating games I wanted to play to their completion.

Yet I never forgot about my dream to become a writer. As I worked my janitorial job, not doing anything worthwhile in my life, a small voice called out to me. “You were meant for more than this,” it said, as I dusted shelves and took out trash. “There’s more to life than this, you just have to pursue it.” As the voice nagged at me, I realized I couldn’t ignore the call forever so I enrolled for a masters degree program for scriptwriting. I worked on writing, but I still played games on a daily basis.

A year into the program, I had a conversation with Nick Hayden of Children of the Wells. I didn’t know him too well, but he cohosted a monthly storytelling podcast called Derailed Trains of Thought with my good friend Timothy Deal, which is still going strong to this day. We were talking about video games one day, as I figured he was a fellow gamer based on subjects he’d talk about on the podcast. He went on to tell me that he stopped playing video games almost entirely, so he could concentrate on writing. I distinctly remember thinking to myself, “Uh oh, is this what I’ll have to do one day in order to be a writer?”

As I wrestled with the final project for my Masters, I reached a crossroads of sorts. I could either keep playing my games every day and make writing a minor part of my life, or I could pursue writing with all of my heart and passion. I knew if I continued wavering in this decision, I’d never get anywhere as a writer and never accomplish my dream of publishing novels. Yet I still loved video games and the pleasure they gave me to explore these fantastic imaginary worlds. I weighed both options on a mental scale, pondering the merits of both. I had a lot of friends who were into gaming, and by sacrificing it I wouldn’t be as well versed in gaming news and opinions when we would chat.

After a long and agonizing struggle, I knew I had to follow my calling and set video games aside. I wouldn’t abandon them completely, but a life change was necessary. It’s like eating, I love junk food and the comfort it gives me, but a diet of junk food isn’t healthy. So just like junk food, video games needed to become an occasional activity.

I still play games with my friends, and I love showing my nephew Liam new games every time I visit him in Kentucky. Those moments mean a lot to me, especially with Liam, because I remember the wonder games gave me at that age. I had a conversation with Nick a few weeks ago about this subject, and discovered that he’s been introducing his children to the games he loved as a teenager. There’s something special and bonding about showing the next generation of children the magic of video games. But we both learned from experience that there has to be a balance between gaming and writing, and writing needs to come first.

So if you want to become a writer or artist, you’re going to have to sacrifice some activities that you love. That means you might not be able to join in the conversations about the latest hit TV show or video game with your friends and coworkers. It’s a small price to pay, but playing games and watching TV don’t write novels. Novels are written by sitting down, pushing the world away, and doing. So go write, you can do it! I have faith in you.  What activities in your life might you need to sacrifice to make writing a priority?

Wayfarers All, Seeking Adventure in The Wind in the Willows

(Image taken from Amazon.com)

Lately I’ve made it my mission to read books that have long been on my “to-read” list that I’ve put off for one reason or another. While my focus as of late zeroed in on works by J.R.R. Tolkien (The Lord of the Rings trilogy) and C.S. Lewis (The Space Trilogy), I took a relaxing detour and cracked open a classic tale, Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows.

I’m not quite sure how this one slipped through my reading list, and should’ve read the story years ago. I’m a fan of stories featuring animals, with Brian Jaques’ Redwall series being my all-time favorite book series. I watched the Disney adaptation on an old VHS tape many times growing up, and while I enjoyed it, after reading the story I much prefer the book. The Disney adaptation is fine on its own, but it focuses almost entirely on Toad’s portion of the book. Now, Toad is an entertaining character, and his adventure is full of action and chases, but the real stars of the book are Mole and Ratty. Their story resonates with me on a deeper level than Toad’s wild ride.

At the beginning of the book, Mole lives in his little home all alone. While in the midst of doing some spring-cleaning, the soil dweller decides he’s had enough of staying in his ordinary world and ventures out to see what the outside world has to offer him. Timid Mole eventually runs into an acquaintance, the much more worldly-wise Water Rat, who was just about to go on a boat ride and picnic. Upon learning that Mole has never been on a boat, the astonished Water Rat exclaims:

“What?” cried the Rat, open-mouthed: “Never been in a – you never – well, I – what have you been doing, then?” (Pg. 5)

The stunned Water Rat insists on opening Mole’s eyes to the wonders of life on the riverbank and “messing about in boats.” Over the course of the warm spring afternoon, Mole catches the same infatuation the Water Rat has for the river, and a deep and unbreakable friendship is forged between the two animals. Mole goes off to live with the Water Rat, leaving his solitude behind and embracing the wild world around him.

            Over the course of first portion of The Wind in the Willows, Ratty expands Mole’s social circle and introduces him to the good-hearted, but terribly flawed Toad, the gruff but wise Mr. Badger, and the jovial Otter and his son Portly. Each of these friends, including Ratty, have their own particular problems and flaws, and Mole helps each of them; just as they help him grow out of his shell.

            The Wind in the Willows has endured as a classic since its publication in 1908, and after reading it, I know why. The story is about brotherhood and friendship that goes beyond being in each other’s company. These friends have more than just a casual relationships, but a deep and sacrificial love that puts them in harms way. 

Brotherhood is often forgotten or put on the wayside, or if it is there it’s usually in helping each other with one’s romantic partners. There is no romantic love to be found in The Wind in the Willows, or female characters even. The love Mole, Rat, Badger, Otter, and to an extent Toad show each other is a brotherly love that seeks to help each other in their moments of weakness and need.

Early on, Mole and Rat are lost in the Wild Wood in search of Mr. Badger’s home. When Mr. Badger finds them freezing on his doorstep in a snowstorm, the kindly badger welcomes them inside, dressing their wounds, and offering them the very best of his provisions. Here, a bond is made between Mole and Mr. Badger, as they discover that they share a common love for life underground.

After Mole and Rat explain to Mr. Badger the depths of Toad’s automobile mania, the three form a pact to help their friend regain his senses at personal inconvenience and cost. The three barricade Toad in his home against his will, staying with him day and night until he is free of his own compulsions. Even when Toad escapes and winds up in prison, Mole and Mr. Badger take turns staying in Toad’s home and taking care of his affairs as he serves his sentence. Mole, Rat, and Mr. Badger even put their lives in risk as they go with Toad to free Toad Hall from the weasels, stoats, and ferrets that have taken over the Hall in the climax of the book.

When Otter’s beloved son Portly goes missing, Mole and Rat brave a late night boat ride to find the missing pup. This daring rescue mission leads to an unforgettable (except for all involved) encounter with Pan, rescue the lad from danger, and reunite father and son.

Even Rat is not immune to his own manias and requires rescuing. After a lengthy discussion with a Sea Rat about his wild adventures, the dreamer Rat becomes spellbound at the thought of travel, and sets out to follow the Sea Rat and never return to the riverbank. Upon learning of his friend’s intentions, Mole grabs onto Ratty and refuses to let go until the spell breaks and his friend regains his senses, preventing him from making a terrible mistake.

These are the moments where The Wind in the Willows shines the brightest. There are no worlds to be saved, no alien invaders, no government conspiracies, and no damsels in distress. This is a quiet adventure book, one for reading on a lazy afternoon or while snuggled in bed. This is a story of four closely-knit animal friends with very human and relatable problems who are more than happy to solve their issues sitting in armchairs around a roaring fire over tea and pipes. Some will find this story slow and dull, but I find it comforting and a balm to my busy and stressful life.

            Perhaps I love this story more than most will, because I can identify with Mole on a deeper level. Years ago I found myself in his shoes, living at home and surrounded by the only life I had known. I had a content life, with a roof over my head, in the midst of loved ones, and an easy part-time job. Yet deep inside, I yearned for something more that couldn’t be satisfied by staying put. The wild world called out to me to leave the security of my family and set out on an adventure of my own and travel to strange world of Missouri for college. To this day, I can’t think of a harder decision than the one I made that summer, and spent many fearful nights wondering what was to become of me. After a tearful goodbye to my family and friends, I entered the world of Horton Hall a wayfarer, surrounded by complete and utter strangers and miles away from home.

            It was the best decision I ever made.

            Over the course of a year, I formed deep friendships that changed my life forever. These friends stuck by my side through thick and thin, accepting me for my oddities, yet challenging me to mature as a person. When I met my future wife, my friends pushed and prodded me to leave the safety of my bachelor life and pursue her. These friendships endured over summer breaks, graduation, and vast distances, staying in touch over the phone and social media.

            I would not be the man I am today had I not answered the call to adventure like Mole. By taking that first step out of my parent’s home, I wouldn’t be married to my wife, pursuing a writing career, working with Children of the Wells, or have the many people I proudly call friends in my life. Like Mole, I have seen the riverbank, and I’m all the better for it.

            Rare is the book that the reader wishes to read again upon completion, yet I feel this way about The Wind in the Willows. Its tales of brotherhood and adventure speak to my soul, and shows a version of the world I want to experience firsthand. Yet like Mole, I’ve discovered the wonder that the world around me has to offer. Perhaps you too identify with Mole, yearning to try something new, but afraid of leaving the comforts around you. It doesn’t have to be crazy or drastic, and beware the manias that lead to disaster, but leave the ordinary world and follow the call to adventure, whatever that may be for you. You just might find something exciting waiting right around the corner.

            Just don’t go around crashing motorcars like Toad. That would be bad.

All quotes and images from:

The Wind in the Willows

By Kenneth Grahame

Illustrated by Dick Cuffari

The Weight of the Ordinary World

Beware the Doldrums. image taken from http://www.lpl.arizona.edu/~bcohen/phantom_tollbooth/excerpts.html

“I wonder where I am,” said Milo in a very worried tone.

“You’re . . . in . . . the . . . Dol . . . drums,” wailed a voice that sounded far away.

He looked around quickly to see who had spoken. No one was there, and it was as quiet and still as one could imagine.

“Yes . . . the . . . Dol . . .drums,” yawned another voice, but still he saw no one.

“WHAT ARE THE DOLDRUMS?” he cried loudly, and tried very hard to see who would answer this time.

“The Doldrums, my young friend, are where nothing ever happens and nothing ever changes.” (pg .23)

From The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, Illustrated by Jules Feiffer

 

So you want to be creative, eh? You have a story that you’ve always dreamt of writing, or have a neat idea for a comic? You like spending your day scribbling story ideas on pieces of paper, or doodling imaginary worlds on a notepad? Do you have a cool idea for a movie that you want to produce? That’s great. I wish you the very best for your endeavors. You have the ability to go out and make those dreams of yours a reality.

The problem is those words of encouragement I just told you might be the only ones you’ll ever hear. See, the world loves successful creative people, but it’s downright hostile if you’re starting out; and it will do everything possible to derail you from following your dreams.

See, when we think of artists and writers, we imagine these free spirited people who sit around all day in their work space, hunched over a computer or sketching, unencumbered by the world around them. I had that mental picture as a new Graduate student that this would be my life. Now, a little older and a little wiser, I’ve come to realize this is just a fantasy given to us by Hollywood.

The reality creative people discover is everything costs money. From the tools that they work with, to the very space they work in, it all has a price tag. Unless you come from a very well off family, or you find a winning lottery ticket, you’re unfortunately going to need to work. Rent, bills, food, utilities, it all has a price tag on it, and that money has to come from somewhere, and it’s not coming from that neat project you’re working on at the moment.

So you go out and hopefully find a job or two to pay your expenses. Great, now you have the means to create! But hold it right there! Now comes the other problem. You come home (which takes time), you have to make meals, you have to bathe (please do), you have relationships to maintain, and other odds and ends you don’t really think about. Now it’s finally time to create! Except you’ve just fallen asleep on the couch from exhaustion. Then when you wake up, it’s time to start the fun all over again.

It’s not easy, is it?

Then lets look at your job. Your job could care less about your dreams. Your employer will look at your resume and your creative skills and say, “Oh, you’re a writer? Good, that means you can write emails with punctuation and grammar. Here’s a mindless job you can do that doesn’t take advantage of your true skills.” All of your talents and God given gifts will be used for the most mundane of tasks to further their business. They don’t care about that cool story you’re dreaming about; there are reports to make. You can draw amazing pictures? That means you can update their website so it doesn’t look like its from the 90’s anymore. Unless you are very lucky and find a position that gives you some freedom, your talents will be wasted on things that will be forgotten a year, no, a month from now.

The world does not want you to succeed in your creative efforts. Chances are, your job doesn’t want you to succeed, either. If you were successful, then you wouldn’t have to work there, and they don’t want to lose you while you’re still useful to them. They’ll smile and nod when you tell them about your latest projects, but they don’t care. They want you thinking about work.

Then there’s your family and friends. They might support your work, but that usually involves only a few words of encouragement. You might write or draw something and share it on Facebook, but that doesn’t mean they will read it. Most will most likely scroll right past it, leaving it only to a few who will check your work out, and even less will give you any sort of feedback on it.

So now you’re stuck in this never ending cycle of work and home life, and somewhere you have to fit in your creative work. Home is where the true battle is for the creative person. Here you’re surrounded by your comforts after a long and frustrating day at the office. Do you really want to spend a few hours writing a chapter in your first novel that few will read, or would you rather marathon that funny show you like on Netflix? Early on, it’s easy to make the right choice and write. But other days, after a brain-draining day at work, or a painful argument with a loved one, Netflix will win. Then there are the moments where you get into a creative funk. Do you really want to stare at a screen to hammer out that scene that’s going nowhere, or do you want to play that fun new video game you just bought?

Being creative takes much more discipline than non-creative people realize. They’re used to seeing finished products by people who have made it. You’re still figuring this stuff out and finding your voice. That takes time, and you can’t quantify that. Most day-to-day jobs require little training for someone to master it. The creative person has only their mind to summon forth stories or images to put to paper. That takes years to develop, with many abandoned stories and sketches thrown in the trash bin that no one will ever see.

With all of these challenges, no wonder so many aspiring writers and artists give up on their dreams and accept the doldrums of life. The temptation to just surrender your dreams and just embrace the ordinary is all too alluring. All you need to do is put the computer down and just sit on your couch and let life take you along like riding the lazy river in a water park. You just veg out and allow yourself to be carried along with the current. No more fighting, no more nights of frustrated writing on a story only a handful of people will ever read. The world is more than happy to enable you to just give up.

This is where the true fight lies for the creative person. It’s the most deceptive of dragons, one that will just sit on you until you stop moving and fighting. But what can you do to fight it?

Remember the reason why you are creating, and hold onto it! When I was a child, all I ever wanted to do was to become a writer. I’d go to a library and look at the thousands of books around me and think, “One day, I want something I wrote to be here.” I’d dream of holding a book I wrote in my hands, and flip through the pages of my work, or see a picture of myself on the back cover. I didn’t want to be a fireman or astronaut; I wanted to be a writer.

I have to remind myself of this every single day of my life. There are countless days on my commute home where I think of every mindless task I have to accomplish at home before I can get out and write and throw up my hands, ruing the day I chose to follow my dreams. I’ll submit a story to this blog and share it on Facebook and Twitter, only to see maybe two or three likes and watch it disappear from my feed. It’s incredibly frustrating, especially when I’ve spent hours planning and crafting my short story with the utmost care and love. In those moments, I have to remind myself that it doesn’t matter, because in the end with every finished tale I write, I grow in my skills as a writer.

Another strategy I have is writing stories that mean something to me, even if it means nothing to another person. I have a story I’ve been working on since last year that no one will ever read but me, but I feel fulfilled writing it because its what I want to read. Write stories or make drawings that only you will care about. Don’t make it your only project, but when you’re frustrated or discouraged, it’s nice to just unwind and spend a few hours with something that will remind you why you’ve chosen to follow your creative calling.

I chose the above passage from The Phantom Tollbooth specifically for this subject. In the scene, Milo has lost his way after just arriving in this new land. Here, he finds himself stuck in the Doldrums, surrounded by the Lethargarians, who do nothing all day. All thinking is outlawed in the Doldrums, and you accomplish nothing but lazing about. Milo, to tired to think or figure his way out of this mess, almost ends his journey just as it’s begun. It takes the Watchdog Tock to rouse Milo from the doom of lethargy. Our jobs can feel like being stuck in the Doldrums, where our minds are not allowed to think about our creations. In the face of this foe, we must persevere and not allow ourselves to become like the Lethargarians, but to set forth on the creative adventure that is just around the corner.

So if you choose to be a writer or artist, understand you will face these challenges. These are trials testing to see if you are up for the task. It’s not easy, and you will need to give up some of your comforts to make your dreams happen, but don’t lose hope! Remember that many people you admire and respect were in the same position as you, and they eventually found success. Life will do everything in its power to take that away from you, but don’t let go! That breakthrough might be just around the corner.

The Mist in the Trees

The brisk breeze tingles my skin and hands as I step out onto my front porch this chilly October morning. It’s a quiet morning, only the gentle sway of the trees that surround my house to keep me company with the sun barely peeking over the horizon. I can barely see them from the mist that sticks and covers them like swirling cotton. A shiver runs down my spine as my body adjusts to the sudden temperature change stepping out of the comfortable confines of my one story bungalow. It’s cold enough that I can see my breath. I bring up my favorite owl coffee cup to my face and let the aroma and steam warm my face before taking a long sip of my morning java. It’s a small ritual I do every morning before I go to work, just some quiet time, alone with my thoughts; before I have to hop in the car and head to the office.

                I moved out to the woods as a way to clear my head. I tired of city life, and saved enough money to purchase a house and escape the noise, the lights, and the people. I wasn’t the young, night-life seeking party girl of my twenties. No, it was time to find a place to settle down in a place of my own, etch out my own little corner in the world, and one day maybe get married if the right guy came along. What better way to get started than to plant yourself smack dab in the middle of nature? The thought of severing most of my ties with the world filled me with excitement. I even bought books on North American wildlife, binoculars, and even a nice camera. I admit I went a tad overboard, but I couldn’t be happier with my decision.

                I take another sip of my Sumatran blend, savoring the splash of almond milk and stevia mixed within the coffee, sniffling back a runny nose. Since moving in a few months ago, I’ve spent a lot of time here on my porch. When I first moved in, I thought I found paradise. The place was a steal, hardly had to negotiate the price down at all. Sure, the house needed some updating, but I saw it as an opportunity for molding the house into my dream castle. This place would be my own.

               

                When I met with my realtor and she handed me the keys to the place, she told me something I found a bit strange at the time. “Don’t go into the woods. It may look pretty, but it’s full of life.” At the time, I thought she was just offering some advice, thinking I’m some sort of naïve city girl. I brushed it off and got to work painting and cleaning before my possessions arrived later that week.

                On the day before my big move, I stayed longer than I expected, until late into the evening. I stepped outside to cool down when something occurred to me. I lived in the middle of the woods, but I couldn’t hear a single noise: no bird calls, no howling dogs, no hooting owls, insect cries, or anything. Thinking back, I didn’t remember hearing any animals during the course of the week. I only heard the rustling of leaves in the wind. I closed my eyes in anticipation of the breeze, but none came to relieve me from the still night air. To this day, I have yet to hear the cry of a single animal around my house.

                Now and again when driving to or from home, I’ll see a vehicle on the side of the road to the woods. They build up over time before the city comes and tows them away. The officers don’t even bother to give the offending cars tickets anymore, a waste of valuable paper I guess.  

                There’s also the shoes. I’ll often find pairs of shoes flung haphazardly on the side of the road. Sneakers, running shoes, dress shoes, high heels, I’ve seen them all, each covered in a filmy slime that eats away the outer layer. Sometimes there’s a purse, or a briefcase, but I always see the shoes. I’d be upset about the litter, but they dissolve in about a week.

                My mug is empty now. I should probably get ready for work now. I take one more glance at the woods and the mist that covers them.  I have to be fast, there hasn’t been an abandoned vehicle in a week, and I know they’re hungry, and that’ll make them desperate. As I turn to head back inside, my eyes fall on the woods from the other side of the field. There is no mist there. I sigh, watching the breath from my mouth dissipate into nothingness. I wish I was back in the city, surrounded by concrete, steel, and glass, instead of swaying, breathing, and ravenous trees.