Stream-of-Consciousness Writing…Hilarious! (WP Prompt)

Here’s an honest, open throw up I don’t readily admit often being an English teacher and all…Faulkner, while I appreciate his place in classic literature, I really loathed reading his works while I earned my degrees in English and Literature > There I said it. I’m more of a Bronte fan. Love those girls. They are magnificent writers and could draw out the butterflies in a love story withoug a lot of physical passion…all matters of the heart…my all time favorite classical read is Wuthering Heights. I’m realizing that there is no way I can do this without breaking up the twenty minutes becaue my two daughters, 4 and 7, are not going to afford me a solid twenty minutes to do something that doesn’t include them. It’s the last night we’re all uplate together—the oldest has tomorrow off. I, however, do not. So break one…must attend to the girls and MUST RESISIT SPELL CHECK! I type way tooooooo fast. And this rubber keyboard cover thingy that I ordered on amazon to go with the lovely cover might need ot go. Its’ pretty but snags my fingertips…any recommendations for a smooth cover? Okay must go… Just realized (upon returen) that I didn’t say why I loathed reading so much Faulkner in both of my degree programs…all that stream-of-consciousness blah blah blah. my mother is a fish stuff that you have to tie into something he rambled about incoherently. On a side note, the novel that I wrote has a number of scenes that have internal dialogue from the main character. It’s a third person POV with limited omniscience except that every now and then the main character talks to herself. Maybe a wee bit o’ Faulkner rubbed off on me afterall. So this assignment #1 is an interesting experiment… Glancing over my grammar, I feel like I’m trying to emulate a little ee cummings now. Blatant disregard for rules. I am in love with the Oxford comma but one thing I’ve noticed that I really have enjoyed is being able to break the rules when writing a novel. I will downgrade students who mess up grammar (after they’ve been thoroughly taught) in their formal essays. “FANBOYS only hang out with Commas unless it’s a ‘hinge’ comma then test it—if you can flip it over it’s good to go.” Then today I write a few pages in my second novel (I’m working on a Trilogy) and I sprinkle all kinds of fragments in it like I’m adding extra sugar to my coffee…just a little more and it’ll be ‘just right’. I’m adding VOICE to my story and people never talk the way they right (except unless the WP Prompt tells you to dump the junk in your head for your first post in the course…write for 20 mintues they say (just got hugged by the seven year old) publish they say, a nice twist…or maybe change somebody’s mind about publishing my novel once they see what a mess I can make of words… Need Another Break, the husband just came in… Back…A slow down B spell check from here on out, sheesh. I really can spell, typing on the other hand right now is not as easy as it could be. I was that nerd in HS that used to read the dictionary for fun. Love me some words. I started the second novel and by started I mean I actually typed out pages…I outlined a couple of weeks ago and have been doing research in between. I love writing. I love getting lost in a world I’ve created and rollingout a movie in my head. Love it. I wrote a couple thousand words before I went back and set up the first lines. As a second novel to a trilogy, I had a choice, to backstory or not to back story. As a trilogy, naturally one would read the first book before reading the second…then I had a chat with my mommy. (love that woman) she just read my first novel’s first draft and loved it, lol, then I told her I heavily revised the last three chapters and squeezed out 20,000 words from the original, first it was ten then I deleted another ten. Anyway, my mom says put the backstory in because she is always picking up novels at garage sales and other non-bookstore places and if it’s an author she likes she doesn’t care if she didn’t get the first or second in a series, she’ll read a good find even if it’s a part of a set and she said that having some sort of idea of what had happened before would be nice since this happens to her a lot –you know us writerly type we love knocking out series…so I wrote backstory in…page two, I managed to squeeze an 89,000+ word story into a handful of paragraphs, but it works. I’m thinking of dropping my first few lines on all of you. This whole time I’ve only spilled a few lines from the first book in one blog post a while ago. It’s in the submission stage right now awaiting a yay or nay before I move on to the next publisher on my list, so I have to keep its contents under wraps for a while longer…anyway, if you’re still reading this, then hey could you weigh in on my first few lines as a hook… BREAKING TO CUT AN DPASTE: Maxine Novaline tightened her grip, squeezing Chase Angevin’s hand as if, without holding onto him, she would topple magnetically into his cousin’s arms the closer he came to them. Burke L’Angevin embodied sexuality the way a flute of demi-sec champagne knew that with one sweet taste you’d give in to its pleasure and consume every last drop. Allrightyyy what do you think? (The hook to my second novel that I’m currently beginning…not the random, horridly misspelled, type-o’ed up the wazzo mess that came before this) ‘Night ya’ll…

Hearts and Flowers (Poetry)

Hearts and Flowers

By

Brooke E. Wayne

Tonight we ride the wild bull with wild flowers in my hair,

And a whirlwind of impatience reaches a calmness,

Through misty waters pressed with fog,

From a lingering dream some time before.

Let our minds wander,

Never too far from home,

And journey beyond that precious place

We once believed would keep us forever.

And all that we feel will be reflected in our eyes,

Surrounding our laughter,

Expressed within our presence

As we smile blindly beyond the sun

Like children,

Gazing into Heaven with thanksgiving.

We are and were before we knew—

Destiny held us in His hands.

For God’s breath is inside our souls

To carry us into Eternity, long after our time,

Well spent,

Has cast shadows on any doubt drifting in from the past.

For in His eyes we are one—

Flesh of my flesh

As we have promised to be together.

Amidst any garden of roses,

Your love is purer than the rain that feeds the stems.

For I am merely one petal,

Capturing the dew of angel’s tears

Like liquid kisses trickling down my neck.

The colors, never muted within your smile,

Glow brightly in my eyes as we look upon the future.

I see Heaven

Surrounding a place in our dreams,

Where simple pleasures, unfolding in our love,

Once sacrificed their time.

Our lives entwined—

Yielding to moments impressed into our hearts.

We saunter, hand in hand, along our deserted shore,

Underneath that silver tapestry

With clouds strewn across an indefinite blue

Like islands in the sky.

And when this world has withered us,

We will walk on into the Light.

For time will have passed through our blood,

And the years will have been but a song

On the tongue of our Creator.

I wrote this when I was 18 years old–in pen from beginning to end with zero editing, and I haven’t changed a single word or grammatical faux pas since.

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It’s been well over twenty years later, and I still look at this poem as an anthem of love in my life. It tells the imagined story of true love from the ‘wedding night’ until ‘death do us part’. Not too bad for a teenager who knew nothing of love at the time I scratched it out on a piece of binder paper in my bedroom one night. I borrowed my simile, ‘like liquid kisses trickling down my neck,’ for the novel I’ve recently completed. The line whispers to me on Page 2 as a little secret that I’m letting you in on—a journey that I am still traversing as a writer of romance, bending my path into a full circle that will keep tumbling towards traditional publication one day.

PS.  I took the picture, and yes, my cupcake was delicious!  Happy Valentine’s Day,

xox Brooke E. Wayne xox