When I read that quote, I felt like this was the life anchor that held me grounded. It seemed I did a lot of that during my life…
I’m not going into details right now, otherwise, you’re still going to read tomorrow. (And no, just in case you’re asking me that, I won’t write an autobiography). I think, after all, my life was only interesting to me.
I consider myself someone who’s still searching. Searching for somewhere to belong… a place… a heart… a spot… something. At times I walk down a path and then seem to realize I walked in the wrong direction. So, what am I doing? I’m trying to correct that.
I might not have always made the best decisions in my life. But I was never bored. I try to learn from walking in the wrong direction and do better next time. It might work someday, who knows?
Am I asking myself, if that new path I’m about to walk down will be the right one? Yes, of course, I am. On the other hand, as one of my close friends says: “Everything happens for a reason”. Maybe this time I will see what’s at the end of the path… and maybe this time I will find the happiness – and the heart I was looking for…
Gregory David Roberts (born Gregory John Peter Smith; 21 June 1952) is an Australian author best known for his novel Shantaram. He is a former heroin addict and convicted bank robber who escaped from Pentridge Prison in 1980 and fled to India, where he lived for ten years.
Roberts reportedly became addicted to heroin after his marriage ended and he lost custody of his young daughter. To finance his drug habit, Roberts turned to crime, becoming known as the “Building Society Bandit” and the “Gentleman Bandit”, because he only robbed institutions with adequate insurance. He wore a three-piece suit, and he always said “please” and “thank you” to the people he robbed.
At the time, Roberts believed that his manner lessened the brutality of his acts but, later in his life, he admitted that people only gave him money because he had made them afraid. He escaped from Pentridge Prison in 1980.
In 1990, Roberts was captured in Frankfurt, trying to smuggle himself into the country. He was extradited to Australia and served a further six years in prison, two of which were spent in solitary confinement. According to Roberts, he escaped prison again during that time, but thought better of it and smuggled himself back into jail. His intention was to serve the rest of his sentence to give himself the chance to be reunited with his family. During his second stay in an Australian prison, he began writing Shantaram. The manuscript was destroyed twice by prison staff while Roberts was writing it.
On my own account:
Just in case you’re asking yourself: Do I think it’s wise, or even ‘cool’, to quote Gregory David Roberts? My answer is no. To be frank, I’m not the biggest fan of the man – but this particular statement is worth quoting.
Thank you all, authors, readers, followers, visitors, and friends, for making blogging and writing to me an exciting and thrilling adventure, for being a part of my life, and for supporting and encouraging me!
Let me wish you and your loved ones now
A successful, exciting, thrilling, enjoyable, positive, and amazing NewYear!
When I read this quote I ‘clicked’ immediately with these words; even more since I keep saying that I enjoy painting pictures with words. In my writing exactly that’s what I try to do, even though I’m not always sure it works the way I had planned it.
My back was turned to the door. While I waited for his return, I watched the sparrows playing on the fountain rim while taking quick showers in the droplets which sparkled in the bright afternoon sun.
seems to be better than:
I stared outside waiting for his return. The afternoon sun made the water in the fountain basin sparkle.
I would like the reader to see the sparrows hopping around, rant and rave at each other and still spread the feeling of happiness and joy.
I figure we all had looked out a window once when the weather was beautiful and saw some pond or fountain. Sparrows are almost everywhere, but most of us don’t see them anymore, maybe because they are ‘ordinary.’
Of course, this is only one example of many. I am fascinated by waterfalls in the mountains and I know I’m not the only one. But how many of us see the rainbow over the water in summer, how many see the snakes, turtles, and lizards which can be seen enjoying the sun while still trying to catch the droplets the waterfall bestows on them.
Many people like going for walks. But it seems to be very important to them to permanently stare onto their phones or have someone with them to talk to.
That way they miss the sound of Nature, they miss so many beautiful details.
When I go through the forest, I try to set my steps as quietly as possible as compared to breaking through the woods like a rhinoceros. I watch the sunbeams touching the moss between trees; I listen to the birds singing, I can see the finest art in the form of spider webs between the bushes (and yes, I walk around them. As beautiful as the webs are, the residents scare me to death).
I have the chance to see foxes, squirrels, and deer. One evening I had the chance to watch a huge owl feeding the brood, and I’m still honored to have had that chance.
All these details taught me how to see. And that is what I try to express in my books. Of course, I still work on it, and I’m sure at times it can be better. But I won’t give up.
How is your experience with descriptions and the painting of pictures with words? Let me know in the comments below.
Anton Pavlovich Chekhov was born on January 29th in the year 1860, in the small seaport of Taganrog, Ukraine. He is regarded as one of Russia’s most cherished story tellers. He has produced some hilarious one-acts, but his tragic stories have gained him the name of being one of the major dramatists. Today, he is remembered as a playwright and one of the masters of the modern short story. He was the grandson of a serf and the son of a grocer, whose religious fanaticism caused much of his early years to reside under its shadow. While he was doing medicine in the University of Moscow, he began writing short stories. After graduating in 1884, he worked as a freelance writer and journalist related to comics. He used the money gathered from it to support himself and his family, and by 1886, he had gained wide fame as a writer. Chekhov’s works were published in various St. Petersburg papers, including Peterburskaia Gazeta in 1885, and Novoe Vremia in 1886. The Shooting Party published by him was translated into English in 1926.
In the early part of his career, he mastered the art of one-act and produced some fine pieces. In 1888, he wrote a story, The Bear, in which a creditor pursues a young widow, but later proposes marriage to her after being impressed that she’s agreed to fight a duel with him. In 1889, he wrote The Wedding, which also has a very nice story attached to it, and became an instant hit amongst his fans.
In 1886, he began contributing regularly to St. Petersburg daily Novoe Vremia and that was when he developed the style of calm writing. He was criticized by his opponents because his story lacked social commentary, but at the same time, he was praised by authors such as Leo Tolstoy and Nikolai Leskov.
In 1888, Chekhov was rewarded the Pushkin Prize and the very next year, he was elected a member of the Society of Lovers of Russian Literature. He withdrew from Literature and turned to Science for a while when his play, The Wood Demon failed in 1889. As a part of his doctoral research, he made a trip to the penal colony of Sakhalin, north of Siberia, where he surveyed 10,000 convicts sentenced to life on the island. During the latter half of the year, he traveled all over the word, including places as South East Asia, the Indian Subcontinent, and the Middle East.
In 1901, Chekhov finally married an actress, Olga Knipper, who had performed in his plays. On July 15, 1904, in Badenweiler, Germany, Chekhov died. He is buried in the cemetery of the Novodeviche Monastery in Moscow. (Source: https://www.famousauthors.org/anton-chekhov)
Neil Gaiman is right. Writing is easy – and it’s hard.
We writers have a story in our head, and we want it written. That’s what we love doing; the book is what we want to accomplish.
But there is so much more. The characters, the plot, the genre, the word count, the editing, the cover, the formatting, the copyright, the beta reading, the hope and the fears.
Many of us, I figure, have the same fears that I have: Is the story as good as I hope it will be? Could I have done better? What does the reader want? What do the readers say? How are the reviews going to be? Is the book the way I wanted it to be? Are my characters the way I imagined them? There are so many more questions my fear, right now, won’t release.
In many ways, our passion is easy: just a keyboard (or a piece of paper and a pen), and we’re on it. But still, it is hard work. Do we think about everything we learned? Is the story the way we had it in our head?
And the writing is only one part. The ones of us who planned to go the self-publishing way, our work only start started with the publishing date. The networking, the marketing, getting the word and the book out there.
I think I’m not the only one who would love to write, just write and write and write… but then, I want my stories to be read too. And when it comes to that, I need to get all this work done.
That’s the hard part for me. (Apart of all fears and nightmares, of course).
So, yes. Neil Gaiman is right. Writing is easy – and it’s hard.
Neil Richard MacKinnon Gaiman, (born Neil Richard Gaiman 10 November 1960) is an English author of short fiction, novels, comic books, graphic novels, audio theatre, and films.
His notable works include the comic book series The Sandman and novels Stardust, American Gods, Coraline, and The Graveyard Book. He has won numerous awards, including the Hugo, Nebula, and Bram Stoker awards, as well as the Newbery and Carnegie medals.
He is the first author to win both the Newbery and the Carnegie medals for the same work, The Graveyard Book (2008). In 2013, The Ocean at the End of the Lane was voted Book of the Year in the British National Book Awards. (Source: Wikipedia)
Reading the above quote, I was immediately thinking about how disciplined I am; and how disciplined I would like to be.
Me working in a full-time job, of course, I would love to have more time to write. Not that I never take time to. It often seems to me that I barely do anything else in my time outside the office, except working on one of my books. Either I write, or I type one of my drafts into the computer, or I edit, or I work on a copyright, a cover, or anything else that has to do with either writing or blogging.
There were so many days (and nights) I found myself in front of my computer at 2 am and realizing that I should have gone to bed three hours ago considering I have to get up and go to work sometime between 7 and 8 am.
Of course, when I get home, I have to provide myself and the cats with dinner, play with them, maybe have to clean at home, do laundry or get something else done that needs to be done in my daily life.
Occasionally there is just simply no time to do any writing or blogging. On a day like this, I find myself in bed, feeling guilty about neglecting my writing, pushing my passion and obsession to the very end of my ‘to-do’-list.
These are the days I feel I’m not disciplined enough to follow up and do whatever I can to reach my goal.
To this day I have no idea what more I can do to be more disciplined. A plan? A different ‘to-do’-list? I’ve tried it all. In the end, I just had to see: my priorities are set right. But once in a while, daily life needs more attention than expected. And no matter how much I love being a writer. I still need to have a home, pay my bills and get food on the table.
Sometimes I’m asking myself, what more can I do? And I wish I’d be wiser…
When I lately read this quote, I expected this quote to root in the wisdom of a successful and experienced man. And I was right. That’s why I tried to find out more about this man’s life.
Emanuel James “Jim” Rohn (September 17, 1930 – December 5, 2009) was an American entrepreneur, author and motivational speaker.
Emanuel James “Jim” Rohn was born in Yakima, Washington, to Emanuel and Clara Rohn. The Rohns owned and worked a farm in Caldwell, Idaho, where Jim grew up as an only child.
Rohn left college after just one year and started his professional life by working as a human resource manager for department store Sears. From there he worked through different industries until the early 1960s when Rohn was invited to speak at a meeting of his Rotary Club. He accepted and, soon, others began asking him to speak at various luncheons and other events. In 1963 at the Beverly Hills Hotel, he gave his first public seminar. He then began presenting seminars all over the country, telling his story and teaching his personal development philosophy.
He presented seminars worldwide for more than 40 years. Rohn also coauthored the novel Twelve Pillars with Chris Widener.
Rohn was the recipient of the 1985 National Speakers Association CPAE Award for excellence in speaking. He is also the author of 17 different written, audio, and video media.
Jim Rohn died of pulmonary fibrosis on December 5, 2009. He is buried in Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, California. (Source: Wikipedia.com)
“Our debt to the heroic men and valiant women in the service of our country can never be repaid. They have earned our undying gratitude. America will never forget their sacrifices.”
— President Harry S. Truman—
We made it to Arlington.
(Memorial Day Song by Trace Adkins)
I never thought that this is where I’d settle down
I thought I’d die an old man back in my hometown
They gave me this plot of land,me and some other men, for a job well done
There’s a big white house sits on a hill just up the road
The man inside he cried the day they brought me home
The folded up a flag and told my mom and dad
‘We’re pround of your son’
And I’m proud to be on this paecful piece of property
I’m on scared ground and I’m in the best of company
I’m thankful for those thankful for the things I’ve done
I can rest in peace, I’m one of the chosen ones, I made it to Arlington
I remember that my daddy brought me here when I was eight
We searched all day to find out where my granddad lay
And when we finally found that cross
He said, ‘son this is what it cost to keep us free’
Now here I am a thousand stones away from him
He recongized me on the first day I came in
And it gave me a chill when he clicked his heels and saluted me
I’m proud to be on this peaceful piece of property
I’m on scared ground and in the best of company
I’m thankful for those thankful for the things I’ve done
I can rest in peace I’m one of the chosen ones, I made it to Arlington
And every time I hear twenty-one guns
I know they brought another hero home to us
We’re thankful for those thankful for the things we’ve done
We can rest in peace, ’cause we were the chosen ones
We made it to Arlington, yea, dust to dust
Don’t cry for us, we made it to Arlington
America was not built on fear. America was built on courage, on imagination, and an unbeatable determination to do the job at hand. – Harry S. Truman
Carrie Underwood says it with her heart and voice:
I wish you and your families: