Monday, August 31, 2020

Poplar

August 31, 2020


Summer’s end approaches, the poplars are first to know
sending yellow leaves drifting to the green carpet below.
Straight and tall they stand in their silent glory
catching not the ordinary ear or eye
demanding not the saw or splie.

Brittle in every insistent breeze, they do not yield
taking the majestic oak and rustling maple as shields.
Only time forces them to come to ground
by branch and limb, one by one, until weary
they stand, devoid of youth’s greenery.

Autumn’s quick coming is not to be met foolishly,  
this she knows in the unplumbed depths of many sleepless nights. 
The poplar knows not how to bend but she does,  
learning forced upon her in summer and spring,  
lessons taught by those unwary of her flight.

Equal to the stately oak, the poplar stands with grace,         
asked and received, yet hidden from those who cannot see. 
Autumn comes clothed in brilliant shades of joy,     
standing firm, unrelenting in her convictions,           
awake, unafraid, acknowledging winter will come.

KC Kendricks




Saturday, August 22, 2020

It's certainly not linear

August 22, 2020

Our time is linear. No one argues that. What we do with our time seldom is.

For some reason, the origin of which I know not, I always thought writing would be more of a linear process. You get the idea, you plot the story, you write the story, BOOM! Finished book.

Oh, how wrong...

As I put the finishing touches on The Quest, I had an inspiration for an older story I took off the market some time ago. The story is about true shapeshifters, those being the kind that can take on any form they choose, but something didn't resonate. I always thought it was the cover. And in the deep dark of a restless night, it popped into my conscious mind what to do about the cover. 

I wasn't even thinking about that book. I was pondering the ending of The Quest, but later that same day I was revamping a cover. No, it wasn't very linear. 

Nor is it linear that I have words to type for The Quest and I'm blogging instead. Procrastinating? Not really. Living in 2020 means coloring my hair myself. I can type a blog with goop on my hair and call it a good use of twenty minutes. If I tried to write viable prose in that time frame, it wouldn't work. 

No, writing isn't linear. It has smooth curves and sharp turns as it treks through valleys and over mountains. Writing is a reflection of life in all its nonlinear glory. I don't think I've taken enough time to enjoy it in this year of uncertainty, but it's never too late to begin, no matter where nonlinear takes me.

KC Kendricks
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