Why Not?

“Writing is easy. You just stare at a blank screen until blood forms on your forehead.”

I don’t recall who said this and I’m paraphrasing anyway, but the point is that whatever else I may be—daughter, sister, friend, co-worker, fragment of universal flotsam—I am, in the very core of my being, a writer.

My forte is fiction, my preference fantasy. I write novels and short fiction and silly poems for homemade greeting cards. I collect quotes and follow my heroes. Most importantly, I find inspiration everywhere, usually when I least expect it.

That’s what this blog is intended to be: a cornucopia of literary bits and bites, sometimes fictional, sometimes philosophical, sometimes plain old ramblin’ Ru. And what better way to begin than with The Poem That Started It All, courtesy of my sister in propinquity, Nicole D. Myers. Years ago, she honoured me with this amazingly insightful poem. How she managed to capture my hidden essence so quickly still amazes me. Welcome to Comfortable Rebellion.

I`ll brew the tea. You pull up a chair, and together we`ll sit and sip and wait for the blood to form on our foreheads.

With love,

Ru

Sitting on a Shady Veranda with Ruthie Wordsmyth

 “You are the Saint of Storytelling.”

I tell her while sharing bits of

smooth candy and cups of green tea
sitting on a shady veranda under a Vienna sky.

“The Zeitgeist of Paragraph! 

Mistress of Manuscript Extravaganza!”

I tell her this because it is the truth

my friend, the writer, word-spinner
is the main character of a poetic prophecy
rising with an exquisite voice
an Enchanted Empress baring her
woven soul into spirals of fiction
into epiphanies of elemental editing.

My literary gentlewoman friend

the Storyteller, Princess of Plentitude
is the keynote speaker at a symposium
for the Gorgeous Struggle
offering simple directions to the center
of the universe and sundry side-streets of Sublime.

Her biography will soon be available in trade paperback

autographed copies of Comfortable Rebellion
will grace the bookshelves of admiring fans
but will pale in comparison to my first edition hardcover
inscribed with her permanent wisdom.

Inside will the near-art experience booklovers have longed for a fort-night

inside there will be polaroid pictures, convictions and conversations
dreams and disappointments though her tears will be absent
saved in a mason jar on the edge of her prolific writing table.

“You are the Operatic Melody of my heart!”

I tell her while brewing a fresh pot of green tea.

“A Victorious Virago!”

I tell her this because it is true.

“What would I do without you?”  I ask her.

She just smiles, shrugs her shoulders
and tells me another story.