Avoiding My Mental Patio - A poem of the travails of Writing like I do.

I've stayed off it,
the new, real-world patio,
trying to avoid the crowd
that would overwhelm its space,
barely enough for two chairs
and a table for writing.

I know they will gather
if I step out there
and try to use it.
The massive mob that dwells
inside my head telling stories,
each demanding their turn now.

But the damned Mental Patio,
where I retreat to so oft,
inside my slime filled skull,
forms up as it pleases,
and they gather up swiftly,
to heckle and jeer efforts.

Such is the case now,
as I tried telling tales
of Scorpio's many dangerous hunts.
They realized the patio'd materialized
inside my imagination's dark domain
where night exists amid daylight.

Billenius just sipped his tea,
sitting calmly as his norm,
but silent for the moment,
save the loud, nasty stares
he tosses at my fingers,
for not finishing his edit.

Scorpio leans over Troy Tanner,
who is boasting about something
involving rats in expensive suits
raising up various dead souls
to do some dark bidding
or take a fool's errand.

The hunter scowls, miffed again.
His tale is long ignored
and this isn't the first,
nor the last interruption suffered
in that story's winding path
to being finished up finally.

C.J. lounges, over by fire-pit,
still sipping his rum drink,
chuckling over the building row,
hoping for some serious fisticuffs
to allow him to stand
and talk about his story.

Others sit about, sulk silently
amid the shadows and slime,
hoping for their turn again
to spring back to life
under the dance on keyboard
my fingers doth slowly mangle.


Each tale tries to emerge,
each player and character vies,
for their little, tiny chance
to rise from the fog-bank
that clouds my mind's eye
and walk in words again.

I cannot force the issues,
and make them queue up
to tell their tales orderly,
as that way lies disasters
long ago discovered by trial,
and madness lies that way.

So I ride the tides,
letting each tale flow out
as it damned well wants,
not trying to force issues,
save in November's chill weeks
when I do NaNoWriMo's thing.

I know this is foolish,
but it seems to work,
for my sanity, at least.
And around my desk's clutter,
the characters find their places
to sit as I write...
Waiting for their chance to speak.

1July2016 -  a befuddled Dyfedd Rex.

Story alert.... Stay Tuned here the next week or so

If you liked what came about from the visit of Mr. Troy Tanner from the EPA's CRAPP division, keep an eye here for his holiday season misadventure... it involves pixies, elves, sylphs, reindeer and (shudder) loads of paperwork.

And yes, I really should do some to the NaNoWriMo, but that tale just has no traction, until I work out more details.

So, check in, and watch for Troy's little tale, coming soon. May not get here until the 2nd week in Dismember, depending upon my time and the ability to edit without getting caught using Toxic Word Dumping...

I walked out onto the plaza
seeking just a smoke of peace
to gather thoughts for projects ongoing.
Looking around I found it empty
until I noticed the ghostly hunter
standing in the nearest shady spot
who nodded in recognition just briefly
before entering the bright sun's glare
spreading out his blanket and wares.
It had been a long while
since his last visit to me
so I strode over to speak
over why he was selling trinkets.
"There have been few knives lately
laid upon tables in dark rooms
for me to pick up carefully
and send dark forces to Hell."
So I asked this ghost softly
a question last made upon stones
far away and many moons ago
"A few is better than none?"
His nod was gentle yet distracted
as other shades gathered around him
purchasing a few furs and feathers
making me wait for an answer.
When it at last was given
I motioned him inside the Library
to take the tale he offered
to share with others in days
yet to come, though soon passing.
"Yes, there was a blade accepted.
One I regret having picked up.
Something dark came from the past
to haunt the lands I walk."
Then he told me the story,
the one of Knives and Vines.

A New Hunt of Scorpio Kenrai has begun. Watch his blog for details. And maybe I can conjure the rest of his early days from him soon.

Updates and Notes

Well, I have a new tale, but unless it gets totally rejected out of hand, it will not be posted here. Sorry, folks, but this guy is making his try at the semi-pro writng market. I will keep you all posted as to whether this tale gets accepted or not, as well as something else still being shopped around.

Now, you should get chapter 7 of Clansman this weekend, and perhaps even chapter 9 from the rewrite of Billenius' Tale. Unless I get job, in which case, well, Clansman just needs a good edit, so I may still get it done, but no time promises.

Last, I am on my way to true insanity, working on 9 Works in Progress, which means don't stand close, if my brain boils over, the splatter will be ugly....
Its 4 novels in some stage of writing, four shorts in progress (counting Clansman) and a poem I am still not happy with. Its a Small Town America one, which is what makes it harder to do.
So, be well, hope to have folks enjoying tales soon, and please, leave a comment, even if its just using the buttons at the end of the tale or poem.
Sinc.,
-Dyfedd Rex