Well, I've decided it's time to reveal something to the masses (okay, they aren't really masses) who peruse this blog. It's not so much a revelation as an expounding on the obvious.
I like to write, as evidence by this blog. I've always been a bit nervous letting people know this, thinking it somehow damages my masculinity. Well, the revelatory news is over the past while I have been working on book, a novel. It's a little science fiction, but not like Star Wars or Lord of the Rings; more realistic. It amassed over 130 pages and I've had a lot of fun with it. I work on it when the creative juices are flowing and it had been very thereputical for me, and while I hold no illusions of granduer, it isn't too bad.
I'm plugging in an exerpt and would appreciate feedback. Some background: Luke (our hero) has met his nemesis; he teters on the edge of failure and resolve, both physically and psycologically. It's something I think we all face at times. Anyway, hope you don't fall asleep;-)
Hurt, anger, pain. These emotions course through me, threatening to overflow a once calm exterior. Frustration rubs reason raw, friction wears down formerly strong resolve. Emotions exhausted; reserves nearly dry; the debilitation of not knowing what else to do shutting down the will to go on. Heart and will rip apart, mortal fiber and eternal hope shredded, its electric current shooting through my being until it finds and destroys all hope hidden in the darkest corners; my soul is experiencing the painful result of a word which has followed every step of my existence:
“It is what you are,” the darkness hisses, its tone mocking, sneering, loathing. “When have you ever been able to finish something meaningful? You’ve nothing left to give, nothing left to be. This is another example of your inability come off conqueror. You are a failure.”
Now on my knees, will seeps out of my body, pooling with the crimson blood on the ground around me. Fear begins to encompass a deadened soul, void of purpose and will. Ghosts of failures past emerge from their graves; they circle heart, body and mind, penetrating through a shattered armor of resilience. Succumbing, it is time to acknowledge the darkness is right: another failure, like so many before; this one, however, is public, pronounced, permanent.
From knees to face I fall, landing in a pool of rotting will. The fight is done; I choose to quit and be done. No more failures. Enough.
The darkness laughs insidiously as it has triumphed over an incompetent foe.
Eyes close; it is done.
A whisper. It is barely audible, from a deep recess surviving the destructive force which encompasses me, it speaks. The words are distant, buried and muffled; yet they press on until coherent.
“Only the strongest will survive...”
The words are too late; damage done, fight over…
“Only the strongest will survive…”
The darkness was the strongest; it will survive…
“Be the strongest. Survive…”
I’ve been beaten. I’m not the strongest….
“Be the strongest. Survive…”
Tired of failure, of mistakes; no more…
“Survive. You will be the strongest….”
No more failure. This is the last….
“Survive. You will be the strongest…”
Many failures; many tries; always stronger…
“You’ve survived before; survive again…”
Eyes open; it is not done.
The darkness laughs insidiously, thinking it has triumphed over an incompetent foe. Hello.
From face to knees I rise, gathering up lost will. The fight must continue; I choose to continue. No more failures. Enough.
Now on my knees, will continues to grow inside of me. Pain declines, hope pulses; fear is chased from a revived soul, filling with purpose and will. Ghosts of failures past flee back to their graves as belief, hope, will find again their place. Soul, tattered and torn, mends as will purges and cleanses until the shattered armor of resilience is once again intact and whole. Renewed, it is time to confront the darkness’ error: another failure, like many before; this one, however, is public, pronounced, but not permanent.
Now on my feet, eyes lift to confront the darkness. “I am no failure. By continuing forward, I’ve always come off conqueror. There is enough left to give, more to be,” a voice says, sure, convicted; it is mine. “I will never give up. It is what I am.”
Belief, hope, faith. These emotions course through me, overflowing a once shattered, haggard exterior. Calm binds up reason; peace builds up a formerly weak resolve. Emotions renewed; reserves nearly full; faith in the future inspires the will to go on. Heart and will mesh, mortal fiber and eternal hope coming together, soothing balm flowing through my being until it finds and destroys all despair hidden in the darkest corners; my soul is experiencing the healing result of a word which has preserved every step of my existence: