Doorways into the Backwards Post Office and a Tall Tale...

Who wants to be a Fire Heart....?

 

:] Of course you do silly...it is the biggest wish and the greatest desire...

 

 

To be filled with a burning fire...or an electricity,

power upon power.

As a Fire Heart you can hear more and most definitely see more...

You are the ones who See what the Skyy sees,

The gears and mechanics that brace the night sky,

the way that stars are not merely just stars - but whole planets,

swirling and spinning at crazy-fast speeds

and with a billion techni-colour bursts of light and hues.

 

More than likely...as you grow into life as a Fire Heart,

you will grow scales...that reflect the true colour of your Inner Fire,

and they will shift and change their appearance...depending on your moods...

 

Only fear the Hunters, the crawling smiles that get too close and the fearful Black Jade...

 

 

  Harhar...I feel like all my vigour and jolliness has been sucked out of me today...mainly, it feels like a trembly sort of a day. Where I just feel flat-eyed and that I don't fit into my skin well....these are perhaps, not as bad as the days where I feel just....humid, which is often when the weather will feel humid too. But you know the feeling...when you just feel hot and stuffed in and somehow both hungry and not and thirsty and not.
  There's no definite conviction or emotion or way...but it's not peaceful either.

  I want the days where I feel a peaceful heat in my bones...and when the trees and land seems to draw closer to me wherever I walk (don't ask me to explain that either hehe). Or the days where I am bitter or the emotion is negative...because at least that's a definite emotion.

  But enough....

  Sometimes the world feels otherly.... do you ever get that?
     Say if you look up at the night sky, and it just seems so vast and wild that, you feel like it's all on the verge of moving or doing something.
   I think there's places in the world where the line between ours and some other place or dimension or presence or...I'm not sure what exactly, brush up against each other...that in certain places and situations, more things are possible and there are doooors.

  Sounds rather mad an idea? It most definitely is...I've become more and more convinced lately that in some ways...I have the crazies inside of me. What I mean by that...is that, it's an off-kilter mind-space inside of me, and sometimes what I write or say doesn't seem to make sense anymore...but really :] we're all a bit crazy aren't we?
  I just think for me, the craziness has had a chance to grow starting with the island I spent a year on...and extending in ways now. I think the isolation and way of that sort of institution-like place can really...make you go tropo...island fever hehe.

  Ah to be a bird, a heard...a shrub...don't mind the madness, it's only mildly contagious... XD

     An off-beat sensation,

Like tiny running keys...

That grows with the shadows and cracks in the walls,

A music only you can hear,

A warping of the mirror you've always held to you...

and a distaste for the obvious,

a Pin-pointed at two...

What is it called...

this adoption of mentalities?

And believe me dear friends...

I'm not really sooo mad,

Just a bit melodramatic,

Please don't take me too seriously,

but hold the reigns,

Because oneday I might...

and it will be too late,

Only for so long can one,

toy fretfully with fate...

He doesn't like to rest,

and his shadow does hound,

I'd like a respite please,

Mr. White n S...

there is no sound,

Only a shadow abiding by...

Why do greyhounds soak up the sun,

When they cannot feel the heat?

Why do I plunge myself into labyrinth's,

with full knowledge of my choice...

Maybe a flat life terrifies me,

and Maybe I'm addicted to being the victim of a dark force,

Maybe it's to find, find, find

find...

what we can with what time we are given...

Maybe it's boredom,

And that perhaps Scares me more.

 

 

  I think it takes gall and a certain strength to write (I'm not saying that I have those, and please don't think I'm boasting...), what I mean by that...is that, when you truly write, you put many parts of yourself into the stories and characters and poems and everything else. We have to be prepared for the possibility that one day someone could and probably will put two and two together and realize how we were referring to ourselves and those we know...and often how warped our viewpoint can be.
   But we have to chance it...for some absurd reason unknown to me...that we write whatever we write and then allow all those personal encoded truth-lie-tales, to be judged and beaten down as they're edited and changed.
  In some ways, by choosing to write...we're permitting the critisism of ourselves.

  Heyy, and before I go I had one crazy-ass theory yesterday that came to me...
   The ideas for stories...when they're really powerful often just come from no-where, along with all their characters. Like, for one story I wrote, I didn't have any plan to write it, I was just sitting on the couch one day and, bam...I had this burning, burning feeling inside of me...that I desperately had to start writing, and so I did...and in one week...I had the draft of a new novel. Crazyy huh?

  But my theory was that...well either there's some elite society or group that controls everything...and that part of keeping us under control is sending out to our brains all these random story ideas...like implanted memories, or planted memories...to occupy us.
  Or...well, Stephen King's theory is really nice...that stories are artifacts that we dig up. But then it could be more...like a disease. Yes, a disease or a flu.
  They float around all the in-between places...and then randomly latch onto people...that stories are living creatures, and we are merely the host through which to channel this tale.
    Ooh, that's rather creepy...they're like...aliens.

    Maybe they're sent to us from above?

    Who knows...but hey, you up there , keep sending the tales please or else, please let me catch the story bug again hehe...


  Anyways...

  Byeeeeeeee

   Miss CLScarlett xx
  

 

  

 



Mr. Green-High-and-Mighty Smoke Man and his Backwards Mirror...

Envision...

 

 

A word, a breath...a sound,

A slight shifting in leaves on the path beside you,

A changing.

 

You're walking along a silent street path,

on and on...

and as you walk, you glance up towards the skyy,

See it clothed in fairytale-like grey clouds...

Monstrous,

and as darkly billowing as a swarm of wasps,

Thick air...gloom-dripping air...

 

As you walk along, you begin to pass a row of rusted-down

red houses, with trembling eaves...

 

"Psst."

 

You pause, turn in the direction of the foreign and somehow mischievious noise.

Your eyes are caught up in the blue-black eyes of someone...something...

a creature mayhaps.

At times he - you're certain it's a he - seems to be coated in brittle shadow fur,

and at others...

he seems to gain the appearance of a dwarf-sized man in a jet-white top hat and

long, unravelling lavender pin-striped coat.

 

The world tilts...and you find your feet

crisscrossing and

unwinding...

in an effort to bring yourself closer to his side,

for a reason you cannot name...

 

"Show off...show of..." he hisses.

 

You cannot help but stare at the needle-pointed teeth between his crescent smile

 and black-dripping

claws...

that hang languidly from the tips of his fingers,

but his smile is catching and you find yourself still

and unable to leave.

 

The world quietens about you,

and you fear that it is so silent...

that anything could happen...

and that more and

 worse 

monsters could creep through the cracks on the side-walk...

than just your dwarf-wolf-man...

 

"Hey kid." he snarls.

"Seriousness is old-schooool...and we do looove, to howwl...

try not to break your train of thought,

or else it will all become denial."

 

He lifts a careful claw, to tip down his hat at you,

and you find yourself wondering...wondering,

 

"Who are you?" you say.

 

His grin stretches impossibly long...

and his eyes swarm with the shadows cast by his incredibly tall hat,

 

"I am the in-between...and the dark shades you see when you're half-

glancing dear-deary. I am that inexplicable longing that gnaws as moths

between the cracks and warbles that sit between

south-West and south-North. I am the diamond-grinder

in the smooth....

and I am in your sights today...

just as you are in mine."

 

A shiver climbs its' slow fingers up your spine...

and you turn away,

finding suddenly that you can't bare the sight of

that tell-tale-easy-difficult-grin...

when you are seized.

 

You fling your eyes back, staring down

as pain nibbles deep holes into the skin of your arm...

He smiles wider, his claws digging deeper...

and quite abruptly you can see the fur again,

and it is everywhere...

on him, on the path...and winding up your arm.

 

Consumed by the vision, you only barely here his voice murmuer into your eardrums...

into your soul.

 

"Take care, and take a few wrong paths...you're far too goody-two-shoes

for myy liking dear...

I have imparted a gift...

a coat of Imperitive-Disasociation...

and you will be cursed to

he-he...not know your own damn thoughts,

because looking through the looking glass will only prove to you how...

how...

howw...damn far your thoughts and mind have fallen from sanities-light,

and how far there still is to fall...

and that one day...

to wake up a monster when the day before...

you saw yourself as a human.

But really...

reallyyyyy.

Who can tell the difference?"

 

He releases a shocking, stabbing laugh and a cloud of bitter green smoke

floods rapidly up about your dwarf...

sucking him from view.

Your sight begins to clear and once again you realize that you are alone...

staring rather dumly at a crack in the sidewalk...

and that the only remnant of strangeness,

are the millions of thick grey fur patterns that lace your arm...

a marked apart, a mark apart.

 

 

Beware the villain who cares...

and the scream that looks back at you from the mirror.

 

Don't ignore it, and please don't keep it in.

Because if you do...oneday...

you'll realize,

that you have become the thing,

that you have hidden away.

Ignoring it...

merely gives it more privacy to latch hold.

 

 

 

  :] Heyy darlings,

 

 

       Feeling rather double-minded today, and still thinking about the future (as always Scar...).

 

   Probably...of noteworthy things in my life...I have three days in a row off from my job, which is brilliant! Just drinking ciders from morning to late at night, and writing, and reading advice for writers and so on and so forth.

   Perhaps one thing I would like to mention...is that lately I'm getting into short stories in every way. Reading Stephen King collections of them (and boyyy are they as intense as any of his other full-blown novels) as well as this gorgeous group of ones by Isobelle Carmody named: Metro Winds.

   I have always been...fascinated by tales of faerie princes and princesses...of children being taken from the human world to be cursed and held in immortal worlds where there true love searches all five corners of the earth to find them. (And yess, the earth does have five corners...I'm just yet to convince all the scientists of my theory).

   It also seems to be the case, that I'm trying to write more short stories. This Blog is a huge outlet for experimenting with that...and I think I am doing alright with it. But...of everything, I've discovered that they are so freeing and enjoyable to create...especially when you only start with a vague idea and just let improvisation take you where it will. Like the above story, or my Ice Children story that was in a previous Blog entry.

 



 

    I wish I were a cat, I wish I were in a circus...or able to disappear off the earth. I wish a lot of things...but most of all I feel happy...

 

   Harhar...just wait for it Scar...too happy and fate usually brings out the gatlin machine guns. :] Oh perish the thought that I should get too comfortable.

 

    But anyway...looking forward to the partayyyy I'm going to this sunday next (after this one coming)...for I shall be dressing up in a marvelous costume inspired by fantasy and confusion and dastardly loveliness. :]

 

 

   Much Love,

 

   Miss CLScarlett xx

 

   P.S. I have decided to add Miss to my pseudo-name if I ever get it printed on a future book of mine. So it shall be Miss C.L.Scarlett as my commonly known name. :]

 

 

  P.P.S. The best match for a person, in my humble (ahm, cough cough, humble...right) opinion, is someone whose the complete opposite to your nature. Say, if you are often gloomy thought-wise (like me...), it's good to have someone who is genuinely happy in himself or herself...himself in my case hehe. :]

 

 

 

Thinking of a certain violinist character of mine :]





 



I Broke the Eggshell...and a world leaked out...of mountains and streams...and a City made of Leaves...

 

 

   Stripped to the waist

We fall into the river

Cover your eyes

So you don't know the secret

I've been trying to hide

We held our breath

To see our names are written

On the wreck of '86

That was the year

I knew the panic was over
Yes since we found out

Since we found out

That anything could happen

   Heeere's Johnny!


    I have returned from the depths...with lies and dasterdly dreams to give away, be quick dear friends...because I seem to only have a handful or so of them up for offer.

    It's been a while hasn't it? My internet has been commiting suicide for a while and [almost thankfully], I have ten times more ideas and newbies to show to you because I haven't been able to Blog for so long...
    Of that, I FINALLY recieved my new Ideal Typewriter, all the way from Ger-maa-nyy! It's fabulous darlings, and is about as heavy as a frickin boulder hehe. I finally got it to work after a few days, and it was like...a foreign, manic-energy took over me as I began to type. You see, you really have to bang the keys down to get the ink to work clearly, and they're hard keys. So it's this constant racket of noise that ends with many tiny bruises on the tips of my fingers and I just....love it. If I didn't have work and there was no one around, I'd just type for a whole day without stopping, it just has this hold over me. It's euphoric almost. :]

   Problem seems to be...that I really don't know what to type on it. At the moment I'm practising with all my various poems and short stories, but one day I want to type up one of my novels...even the, ahm, mystery one I keep mentioning is in the works. But, it's almost as though it doesn't matter what I type, just as long as I can. :]

 

   It's also as though a path of light is expanding around me in my life. Hey...old Mr. White n S is still lurking about along with fate and the rest of my shadows, [and the jinxing], but with a lot of things...it's like I can see the road ahead, but really, who can tell what's in store for us [obviously Scar...]but...my point is, finally there feels to be more light in my life.

  This has sorta all led from the fact that lately, I've become perhaps less scared of the world beginning to end on December 21st and more concerned about what may or may not be happening in five or so years time. There's a lot of word going around that there's going to be some major lackings of resources around then in the future, and I really do believe that at some point things are going to get bad in my and any future kids I have lifetime. It worried me but...slowly a way out has been forming for a lot of people I care about, and me.

  And dear friends, I know it's gonna kill you for me to say what I'm about to say, but I can't really tell you what exactly that way out is. We need to be careful...and even moreso...to wake up.

 

   What you may ask, do I mean by that?

 

   Just, if you would, think about it for a moment. Doesn't it feel, or rather, I can't be the only one who feels like I'm just walking through a dream in life, pushing out the daily work-and-play-grind and paving out a life here...

  

   It's like if you drive past a row of houses and glance inside...around 5pm, and each family or person [or most families], are just sitting and watching TV. We get up, and all go to work...whatever that time might be. Come home, drink or do whatever to try and unwind and...it's like being robots surely.
  I'm mainly worried that one day, something will happen and we'll all just be so deep in our sleep-zommbie routines and lives that it will near blow out our hearts and minds. Maybe we need that...or maybe we should try and start waking up.

  :] Don't mean to be all doom-and-gloom, especially on one of my first Blog entries in a month or so, but I just wanted to write down where my mind is lately. I have plenty of ideas for this coming time [if it happens], and I think I finally feel more hope, as strange as that sounds.

    Ah and on lighter notes (and with my mention to the path of light up above), I believe another item on my end-of-world list may be close to being crossed off. I think...I may be experiencing a love, of a sort...or rather an innocence of heart, for the first time in a long time. Ahm, I may or may not...have become quite close to someone lately, and it makes me feel...argh, like even more hope, if that's possible, hehe.

    So I spend my time, riding a shabby old red bike around the wide, sunshiny streets of where I live, dreaming of fishing at the river nearby, and being thrilled for the future, and my current routine.

    Of that, I have decided at long last to change the location of where Cara lives in my novel at the beginning. It's in Coombabah, Queensland. Why, you may ask, is that so? Well...for ages I've always had the image of where she lives floating around in my head...wide, sunny streets and a place relatively close to the ocean. Turns out, that is exactly the place I have now moved to. Creepy, huh?

  Ahm, enough coincidences? My real name being somewhat similar to hers, my street being the same as hers, and...well it's getting closer to the date the novel starts with. 2013...lol.

  On a last note, dear friends...I have some fantabulous news. That is, in a few years time...I am planning to go all the way over to San Francisco, to attend The Night of Writing Dangerously Write-A-Thon. It's a single night where everyone comes in costumes, there's an open bar, food, it's in a ballroom and it runs from like 6 till midnight almost. A whole evening of crazy writing, and there's so many prizes available and...my gosh it has become the pinpoint of my future, so, ahm...world, please don't damn-well end before then please...

   Here's a link to the information page on it, if you are - like me - a writer who is very, very curious:

    http://nanowrimo.org/en/writeathon

     I will lastly leave you with this music video of a song that's been drifting around my head for the last couple of days...'Anything Could Happen' by Ellie Goulding.

     Much love, and the promise of Blogging more soon....

     Miss CLScarlett xx

    

P.S. If you're looking for a gorgeous read, try Metro Winds by Isobelle Carmody...



The Tree that Grew One Thousand Wings...and, a message from the Sinister Meeting Room...humhumhum

   A quiet road slips into your view...

the trees - their corners - bending down about you,

You forget about the light of day,

as you Turn your back on the meadows and quays...

A sinister tune joins you in your walk,

As the hedges edge closer,

and the Clocks begin to talk,

Fleeting images blur between trees,

and silence is your newly-wed,

A dream, a dream, a bee...

Cloudy moons chase cloudy stars,

and the Fog it drifts...

between the crevices of my mind,

Alice in wonderland,

has divided the two...

and a lined mirror I glance through.

 

 The Sinister Meeting Room calls...

 

 

 

    I can stand as a relatively well-known demon the days where it's all like a shadow weighing me down and blocking out the sun, or the other few days when I just feel great and that life is smiling down at me. But what I can do without is the listless and lukewarm days: the way I felt today in fact. Where it's just an agitated, bored, angry, nothing swirl in my head.

 

    Just give me anything strong to feel...or where there is just a calm, smiling docileness in my mind. 

 

    If you can remember...I referred once to the world and life being like a Chinese puzzle box - and really, this theory has only grown in conviction inside of me as time goes byy - but at the moment, I can feel my place in the puzzle box shifting...and boy it hurts at times. I can sense [like ominous and friendly shadows], both fate and the Brilliance leaning over my shoulders most of the time, one showing me in subtle ways that things really are turning good and far, far better: even if it doesn't feel that way.

   Whereas fate's still there to play the fiddle on my strings and oftentimes set them on fire for his pleasure...but I am grateful.

 

   The fact is [as we all know], change isn't comfortable, and it has threatened me, but I can see the light - as it were - and I'm starting to get excited.

    Mainly, it's with my entire family...all our lives are shifting and taking on a whole new stage. I'm moving house, starting a different position (or really, a more full-time position), at my new job, the possibilities with my writing are opening up way more, and there's a whole bunch more things.

  But life is cruisy...ish. :]

 

  I also FINALLY received (no...not my typewriter yet heehee), but 250 business cards that are designed with my persona C.L.Scarlett in mind. Advertising my writing and pastry work. Whenever I manage to bring myself to actually charge my camera, I'll take a photo of them and put them up here...so, keep an eye out!

 

 

 

These days are grey days Watson...

Cherry days...

and we'll never be that far from them.

 

Ah!!

 

In honour of ludicrous and all things insane in the membrane...

the Sinister Meeting Room has a small mite

of a message for YOU...

Dear reader...

 

If you are in the dark,

about one thing or another...

then listen close and listen hard

There is a new dilemma,

to attend to today,

but before we can continue,

we must fix your own alms,

Stay calm and hum...

Eventually, in an hour or so,

If you keep in the know...

the answer should arise,

But...

indeed

the Cause for this message is clear to me,

We must all venture back,

Down the paths of our mind,

and through the forest one more time,

Ignore the talking clocks,

they won't be of any use to you...

and instead focus on the tree ahead,

Upon it will hang,

approximately one million wings,

and it is your duty,

To pick the RIGHT one...

doing otherwise will result in a badly burnt heart,

yet the right one indeed,

will enable you to soar like a god,

Take to the air and fly straight East,

then turn ever so slightly and head to the west...

There you should find a solitary mirror,

Upon the crest of a Hill,

Land if you please,

and Look deep inside,

What you will see,

determines what will be...

Depending on what that happens to be,

a door shall reveal...

and step through please!

A room should be there

all splattered in gold and you should be able to hear...

a merry old tune,

Go straight right and then straight left,

and turn around twice,

Don't forget the rice!

 

This is the message dear old friends...

the most important thing in life is to laugh yourself dead...

or else if that be,

Too unsavoury for you...

Give back your wings,

and you can well start anew,

For the only way to keep them is to give up yourself,

and Murder your own reflection,

so as to see yourself.

 

Only then can you embrace...

all that is waiting for you.

 

This has been the Sinister Meeting Room, and listen eagerly for the call.

 

 

 



 

   Much Love and Adore, dear ones,

 

   Miss CLScarlett xx

    

 

 

 

 

 



 



 

A Prodesgant Way of Being Blue...

 

  Maybe I'll change my hair to blue...or scarlett red...

Maybe I'll get another tattoo...

you know, this is my tag-line on Deviantart:

 

Red Emperor. Homeland of Coral, Rain and wind. Summer Monkey. Prisoner to the typewriter. My skin smells of sugar and my oven's always warm. I remember the light, so as to not forget that the darkness is only a demon I know...and one day he will be gone. 

 

 So true...

 

You know, I have issues [well that much was already certain heehee], with the idea that shyness means being terrified or unconfident.

 

   It is in ways...but say, for me...I often just don't speak [because I usually say stupid shit when I speak, and get into messes], and I don't always like confrontation true, I don't like people to be unhappy but...doesn't mean I don't have confidence in myself. But...this isn't about me. It's a type of strength in some ways. Listening, watching...I am the guardian...and I'd rather be the one advising and listening from behind the throne than the one on the throne itself.

 

   How messed up is it that I like the idea of a shapeshifting manipulator? That it attracts me. Well...each to their own.

 

   :]

 

    I've also realized that I don't care if the process leading up to my books being published takes years. I want to do this properly, and to go the hard yards. I'm happy to...and as insane as it is, I'll keep at it.

 

  

 

Do you like it? I can envision C.L.Scarlett typing away stories to change and destroy people on this. It's being mailed to me as I speak...and I'm already in love with it.

 

Can I give you a few strange facts about myself?

 

- I could once understand birds.

- I have written 7 1/2 books including ten illustrated documentaries out of twelve of a group of fictional islands.

- I spent a year completing a mural on my bedroom wall.

- I am jinxed.

- Sometimes, I hate myself as much as I love myself...

 

Anyway, enough rubbish about me...and can I be completely honest and say that the whole idea of this Blog was that I really did want to hear from other people I know?

 

I don't care if you only know me through facebook...I just really want to hear your opinion and ideas about everything...as it is, I feel that I'm just talking to myself here. :]

 

Also, of my list of things completed before 'the end of the world', I've gone to the beach more, lost more weight and I'm writing much better.

 

Doesn't matter really.

 

I'll leave you with a small pleasure...and love...

 

 

 

If you want to know what I'm really all about, watch the music video of The Truth by Pnau.

If you've watched it, you'll know what I mean by the scorpian-guy, and that when I tell you that my Sodom is a mix between him and the white Elf prince from Hellboy II: Golden Army, it's true.

 

Also, in case I have never explained who he is fully or if you're new to this Blog, the guy I refer to as Sodom, is this:

 

He is tall, very heavy-set shoulders, [and yes, a six-pack, as cliche as that sounds], white skin, white eyes, white long hair, wears white Arab pants and no shirt but a calf-length white cloak-coat. He is my confidante and tormentor, comforter, teaser...a shape shifter, a demon, a human, inhuman,.

He is Mr. White n S, and many other things.

 

How is it that I trust him more than any other?

 

But he's the closest to my mind, and [ a secret], the more I go through my life lately, the more I realize that the difference between the Cara from my series and myself, is a lot smaller than I believed.

 

But...I love my life at the moment, and as odd as it sounds, I sooo, love the simple process of typing words onto the computer. :]

Anything simple.

 



 

…she held the box up to her ear and shook it gently from side to side, listening for a tell-tale rattle or clink. But instead, she was amazed to hear the tiniest of sounds, so distant and strange that whenever she tried to think of it later, it was almost impossible to remember. The closest she could get was to imagine a waterfall of stars tumbling through space, each one splashing silver notes into the darkness…

 

Steve Voake - The Starlight Conspiracy

 

¯

 

Its’ song came to me in the deepest of nights,

with the softest of tunes - it spoke to me of eternity, of starlit, lavender nights and oceans filled with planets…

Its’ eyes saw the depths of all knowledge,

the depth of each heart - each waking moment…

Cool waters tumbled as chimes through a million mirrors into my ears - its’ dark coolness lighting up an unseen path…

Beads of water, shining like the sun, streaked through the sky - the object dancing and filling my mind with its’ soft, caressing notes of insence devine…

Taking me into a world of colours as I gazed upon it…

…the most beautiful object in the world.

 

Cara Lee Scarlett - The Most Beautiful Object in the World.

 

Captive...these are two poems, one I wrote, inspired the other and both a love of mine. Listen to Enigma, if you want epic music...

 

Much Love,

 

Miss CLScarlett xx

 

 

 

 

Sweet Dwarka...

I have boarded the sailing ship,

a Hop-skip and a Jump away,

at the Edge of that ocean,

that is always in my dreams,

I have gone to the place far east from the west,

Where I have a new name and no tale,

We are children built for stories,

and we have fabricated our world,

Using them as our bricks,

We were made for new seas,

and new mountains and lagoons,

and I have turned my back on everything...

to follow them now,

Glance for me in the 3.30 cool

and the amber shadows, I will dwell...

Peace of heart,

Peace of mind,

If you wish to call me,

 look for the red phone upon the highest hill...

I am in-between worlds now,

and their embrace is cooling,

I have unchained myself,

from the cold hands of time,

and now I lie...in a familiar place,

A home...

Where the streets are pale,

and the city has walls,

the waves' crashing follows you

wherever you go,

and you are reserved a place,

from before you knew you were looking...

and it is a guilded life you have given up,

exchanged for a heart.

 

...7 million palaces of gold,

On sweet Dwarkanoth by the sea,

Make your quest by its' way,

Until you find me...

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

Sometimes the stars seem to fall around me...and sometimes I think that I'm the one tearing them from the skyy.

 

 

 

   Talk next time cherubs,

 

    Miss CLScarlett xx

The Sewn Dial and the Ace of Optional Spades...

       Hi darlings,

       Miss Scarlett here...

       I have so badly missed writing these Blogs and I know it's not very enticing...me deciding to write my entries only once every week or perhaps twice.
       Not consistent enough to keep you, heyyy?

       :]

        There are reasons. Mainly it's that by the time I get home from work at sweet Seaworld Resort it's almost 11:30 at night. I've learnt that every moment, I need to savour. The smallest things and joys such as sunlight and watching goats eat gives me tremendous joy because every day almost is just go-go-go for me now.
       I don't mind really...and for perhaps some strange sick reason I enjoy all that stress and emotion-boiling work. It certainly gives me more inspiration when I do get to write and...yes, makes me appreciate everything more: and not think about all the scary-deep-dark shit I usually do.
 
       I have to say though that despite what I expected, even though I am unable to spend whole days trying to write, my writing habits have improved. I know now that I am truly a writer and that it is my true vocation and what I want to be remembered as. This is the mark I want to make on the world: and I'm willing to get there however I can.

       Every spare moment I have in the day and night I'm writing or working over my stories...I probably should be getting more sleep - and as it is I feel like a zombie mostly all of the time harhar - but I need as much time as possible. But it's shown me that I do care about this whole lifestyle.

     As well as this I've printed the first copy of my re-written first novel and I have asked my Dad and my brother to go over it: and myself. Then I will get it professionally edited and proofread and then start the slow process of submitting it to publishers and agents.

     This will work.

    I even ordered 250 business cards that advertise my writing and Pastry work under my pseudo name: C.L.Scarlett

   This comes along...with their own engraved holding case heehee.


   I've been thinking lately that...there are so many stories that I wished that I could have written. Alice in Wonderland is definitely one of them...and I'd be honoured even to know D.J. MacHale!
  But I once read somewhere that there are two kinds of writers...

    I can't recall the exact terms that were used, but the basics of it was that the first type writes with the aim of earning money off their work, being famous, having all the glitz and glamour and all the rest that comes along with that. (Sounds fabulous no?)
   The second is the more traditional kind: the sort of person who turns their nose up at any advice, and who will slave away at their typewriter or computer, forgetting to eat or do anything else...and they don't so much care for the publicity in any way...more it's the writing itself that is their oxygen.

 
    Sounds like two sides to the same coin right? Which are you...which am I? Heehee...I think in the end it doesn't matter, and that the only point to the matter is that as long as you need to write in some way, and your work is good (aka, others have said so...or you know it, in honesty), then you're a writer. I've found though that regarding the two types above, I tended to lean towards the first (even though the second was more romantically fixed in my head), in that I want my name to be known and for people to be delighted by my work...for it to be an enjoyable read.
   However, because of that I kinda struggled with getting myself to write when I wasn't being paid for it. (I know, low hey?) It was merely a twinge-thing, but...I began (probably when I decided to re-write my series' books), that I needed to write without worrying about the fame or fortune or whatever, but to just write anyway even if sometimes there seems no point to it.

   Really though, I think there's always a point to it. :]

   I believe this so much now...and especially, it's surprising myself how much I really want to get to the stage where my book is being distributed across the world and I have a properly published hard copy of it in my hand...or paperback. You see I have begun the tentatively mind-destroying-stage of compiling a list of publishers and agents across the world that publish in my genre (which is Sci-Fi, Fantasy, novella), as well as writing down all the information on their submission requirements. There's sixty-one publishers I have to get through, that's how insane the list is!

   If you think I'm insane for going about such a long venture well...maybe I am, but I really do want to do this, and I'd rather go the long-miles than have a quick-fix. I want it all to take me a while, and to complete this properly.

   Ah! And in honour of enhancing my writing and mindset, I have purchased a rose coloured Elegant Typewriter. It's a fabulous looking thing, and I'll post a photo of it on here when I receive it.
   Maybe it is old-class, and I don't even see how it will be practical when it's so much easier to write on the computer. But...I'm a glutz for traditions and romanticism, and honestly :] , when I was looking at all the typewriters for sale, it was interesting.
   There were sorts that were huge and black and monstrous...I could easily see Stephen King writing one of his novels on them...their incessant clacking burrowing away into the late hours of the night. :] A cigarette dangling from his lip. For a small instance that attracted me (and hey, I haven't decided against the idea of actually buying smokes just so I can puff away as I write.
   But instead...I kept thinking...I need something that's me or rather, Scarlett. So I found this typewriter, and I can imagine myself typing stories on it. So...I'll figure out something. :]

    Here's the insane and rather irrational dream I have though, in regards to my writing:

   Perhaps have a casual day job (very casual), that earns me money but that most of my money is earned through my writing. I would live in a small, relatively basic place by the sea, (I don't care how rustic...in fact, the more the better), and I'd live a simple life with a cat or two and my typewriter...(and laptop of course), typing away my days, smoking an exotic cigarette or two and with a bottle of writers  prerogative. Yess...maybe one day...somewhere.

   But for now I'll live the life I'm living, and really...it isn't all that bad heehee. :]


  I'll end this Blog and let you go back to your normal lives, but I'll leave you with this relatively small thing.........

    Creaking...

They softly waver,

and the creaking grows louder

 

I was sitting alone in my house one night when an apparition caught my eye,

I had been reading the story of Jekyll and Hyde,

with a cup of Moon-Tea to devour,

I looked up from the words,

that crawled and scrawled like spiders,

and glanced over at the turn,

between both corridors near the urn,

Emptiness devoid met my eyes,

yet still the noises rose,

Until it was all I could hear,

and so indeed I leaped to my feet and inclined my ear,

Hoping to disbelieve...

Yet worry not,

though I had forgot,

to glance in the other direction as well,

and presently so...and you ought to know,

that I turned at once and froze,

Upon a most peculiar sight,

that filled me with strange delight...

The floor stretched before me,

shining its' odd wooden glow,

and from between the tightly wound floor-boards,

Something appeared to grow...

They crept up between the latticework

and miles and miles of dirt,

to hatch into the air with slender blue stems,

and bursting crowns of blood-rose red,

A hundred creeping vines,

Hatching from the woodwork,

Until my feet were covered in petals,

and silent I was...I had become,

at this Heavenly invasion of floral ones.

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

I will try and write again soon,

 

Miss CLScarlett xx

 

 

 

  P.S. Mr. White n S seems to have temporarily gone on leave from my life...at times a shame, though sometimes he will still whisper to me. However he seems to be keeping very quiet. [Too quiet...]

 

   Yess...too quiet Scar...

 

     dear dear, tut tut...