About Compulsive Writer

I am a compulsive writer. I get an idea in my head and I have to get it on paper at that moment. I cannot wait a second. I have to write it down. I write without reservations. I write for God. It is my mission. I write from my humanity and imperfection. I am simply doing my utmost to follow His will for my life. I write what comes into my head without the advantage or disadvantage of censorship. So take it for what it is worth. If I write something you find worthy of comment, let me know. If you agree or not, tell me anyway. I want to know the reaction my writing gives you, the reader. I am God’s unique creation and I am smart, outgoing, happy, loveable, cute, dependable, creative, kind, full of crap sometimes, and I can keep you guessing about what kind of crazy stunt I am going to pull next! I count blessings, use my imagination, keep confidences, seek wisdom, value truth, accept differences, forgive, love truly, keep an open mind, pray without ceasing, write obsessively and read every book I can get my hands on. God is my compass, inspiration, constant, foundation on which all things in my life are placed. He is the ink in my well, the pages on which I write the words in my soul. This is who I am; an imperfect human called by God to write…I am a writer.

Sisters and a Brother

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A lot of water has slipped under the bridge of my daughter’s life the past couple of years. She found herself filing for a divorce and now has a new man in her life. When we move throughout our lives things that we did not expect happen do and change abounds. My daughter never expected to have three kids of her own and now she is the adult in the lives of four more children. The children are 16, 13, 9, 7, 7, 6 and 3 years old. I struggle as to what to call my daughter and her beau now. She and he are not step parents. They may very well be one day, but maybe not. That depends on where that water flows to next. Since I can’t find the words I will use what my grand daughter calls “Part Parents”, Part Mom and Part Dad. Sometimes your are mom/Dad. Sometimes I call you by your first name instead. Works for me.

Here are these seven kids six girls and one boy. (He is the one who is 9.) They are together as a result of their parent’s decision to make a life together and co- parent. On the outside if I never told you the background you would think they were all one family that had always been together. The laugh, argue, play and live as a family. The children don’t pay much attention to what the adults do as long as they can play and eat, they are happy. Some get along better than others. Some are closer emotionally than others. Some fuss that a sister had her shoes or a brother is being mean. Sometimes the share toys nicely sometimes they don’t. They hug and say I love you sometimes they don’t. They always share meals together and make sure the little ones have what they need. They girls help each other get dressed in the morning and find that lost shoe again. (Shoes seem to disappear around them.) The brother takes the hand of a younger sister every time they go for a walk or out in a crowded public place.The look out for each other and protect each other too. They call each other “friend” and “Stister”. (No I didn’t misspell sister, that’s how the little ones say it.)  There is much happiness and love that revolves around them and you when you are with them. There is no hate and very little discontentment. They are children so sometimes one gets mad and sometimes there are tears and whining. The volume is loud. There is no quiet except when they are all sleeping. Sounds like a regular family to me.

Watching them play and interact I have learned that no matter what happens in life, when you are a family, it matters. How you got there, isn’t as important as the fact you are together and you are a family. These seven children didn’t ask for the life they got, but they are finding ways to make it work for them.

We could all take a lesson from these kids. How we got here isn’t as important as the fact that we are here. We are a family of humans in 2015 trying to get along and do life. It matters not if you support gay rights or confederate flags flying. What matters is that we are a family. It matters not what side for the aisle you find your views. It matters not what name you call God, we are a family.

As long as we all have food, shelter, clothing, can play, love, and survive. We should be happy. That should be our focus.

How I see it

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All us Facebook and internet voyeurs have seen this picture before. I stole it…um…borrowed it from Facebook. I like it because it is exactly how I see libraries, any small stack of books or randomly placed manuscript. There are unlimited possibilities to what you can discover, feel, learn, and experience in reading or listening to a book.

Studies have been conducted on reading and the effects on the human brain. Science reveals that the brain does not make a distinction between reading about an experience and actually living it. Whether reading or experiencing it, the same neurological regions in the brain are stimulated. When someone says to me that they do not read, after I get over my shock that I am actually talking to a person who does not read, I explain that they need to see a doctor because something may be seriously wrong with their brain.

Books, no matter what form they come in are amazing things. They can change your life, but have you ever wondered why?

It is the personal human connection. That book that you can’t get enough of, you know the one. The one you stay up so late to finish that you can’t function the next day. Yeah, that one, that obsession….it didn’t just come to be. It wasn’t just floating invisible in the air and just appeared on that shelf waiting for you. Behind that book is a writer who, I can promise you, poured sweat, tears, hours, blood and other unimaginable pieces of them self into while creating that book. They suffered pain, felt joy,were scared, and maybe almost burned down their desk. They did all that not just so you could have the magical experience, that is part of it, but for the writer it was a matter of life and death. That book demanded to be written. If  the book was not written it may have been death of the another. All writers want the reader to feel what they felt or live what their characters are living when they read that book. Readers want to get what they need, doesn’t matter what it is, out of books. That writer-reader connection is essential to the life of the author and some readers as much as food or air.

So, the next time you are reading a book you can’t put down, and you run across some poor soul that says they don’t read, try not to pity them. Show them what they are missing.

 

 

Trans what? 

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All this talk about trans racial and trans gender has brought up some crazy trans-thoughts in my head.

On one hand I feel like it is society’s  fault that we have confused children and adults. For years the mantra was “you can be whatever you want to be.” Which is a lie. You can only be what your potential, motivation, financial situation and fate will allow. If you are missing the motivation to practice talent will only take you so far. If you don’t have the funds to buy the equipment or go where you need to go that can certainly hold you back. Let’s face it, a lot of successful people were at the right place at the right time and met the right people and they became successful. Yes it is a lie, you can be anything that life cooperates for you to be.

Then on the other hand we have the new mantra which is just recycled from the 1960s, “Be yourself” or “Be who you are with no apology”. This is better advice. It is liberating. The problem is people still don’t feel they can be true to themselves because society has limited what is acceptable. You can be LBGTQ but you can’t marry who you love and you certainly can’t raise kids. You can identify with a different culture but you can’t live it openly. Come on! really? That is a bunch of crap. That’s why the poor girl lied. She was scared to be who she is, so in a desperate attempt at self-preservation, she lied. Or, she is just plain bad. That is none of my business.

Both mantras would work if we as a civilized world would support people with love and no judgement when they openly embrace who they are and what they want to be.

I can’t wait for the day that none of this matters. When none of this is news worthy because we all just get along and accept people just as  they are.

Live and let live.

Words have Power

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Here is an excerpt of an article I wrote a while back.

“I have this love hate relationship with words. I have posted about it before and I am drawn today to write about it now. It is strange to me how something as small as a word can hold so much power. Our belief that words can heal, hurt, comfort and love is evident by the millions of posts on social networks by millions of people every day that consists of quotes and personal expressions of emotions. Words should not be ignored or taken lightly. They are weapons of mass destruction or healing medicine that can heal as quickly as they can destroy.”

Read the entire article here http://lorileighriddles.com/articles/ 

Bottom line, be mindful of the words you use. You may not know what you are doing to someone else with those words that you so freely use.

The History of Buttons

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I spent this past weekend with my grandmother as she and my family packed all the things that make up her life and move her to a senior living apartment. Since she is a widow and alone, moving to an apartment will relieve her of the responsibility of a house, will give her a safe place to live and she can get care if she needs it. There are fun things to do, new interesting people to socialize with, but she can live independant. By the time I made it to her house most of the packing and moving was finished, but she had a couple of boxes waiting for me to look through. In one of the boxes there was a tin can of buttons that anyone else would have probably just chunked in the trash. To my grandmother the buttons represented some bits and pieces of the memories in her life.

She began by telling me that her mother had started collecting buttons when she was young and that some of the buttons were over a hundred years old. Then she pulled out a green one and explained it came off a suit that my grandfather had bought for her in nineteen seventy something. As we chatted over the buttons, I remember being a little kid and my grandmother would be cooking or sewing. To keep me busy she would get a piece of string and pick out a few big buttons for me to thread on the string. As she ran her fingers through the buttons and pulled out this one and that one to show me, she couldn’t remember where all the buttons came from. She enjoyed looking through them and telling me what she did remember. Then she insisted that I take the tin of buttons home with me.

Of all the other things I could have and did inherit from my grandmother, these buttons are right up there with some of my most prized possessions. They are pieces of moments in lives lived long before mine. They came from great grandmother’s dresses, my father’s and his siblings school clothes, my grandfather’s work coveralls, assorted Sunday dresses and causal clothes that were worn on travel adventures.  These buttons represent my family history in a strange way that my grandmother truly values. For that reason alone, I will treasure the buttons and one day pass them along to my granddaughters with some added buttons of my own.

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Book of Life by Deborah Harkness

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In this magnificent conclusion to the All Souls Trilogy, the action is on the edge of your seat exciting and there are several surprises bringing to an end the mystery surrounding the enchanted manuscript and what it means for Diana and Matthew. Their search for Ashmole 782 and its missing pages is vital to the answer as to how to save their future and that of their family. In The Book of Life Harkness ties everything in the All Souls trilogy together in a way that stays true to what readers fell in love with in the first book: the development Diana Bishop’s incredible powers, and her passionate relationship with Matthew Clairmont.

I am sorry this thrill ride is over. I feel like I have been living with the characters. I will miss them, some more than others. Maybe I will write a fan fiction that continues the story. I have a sense that this isn’t really the end of Mathew’s and Diana’s story.

If you haven’t already read this trilogy. It is amazing, passionate, thrilling and will leave you speechless.

 

 

 

Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness

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“All that Children have need of is love, a grown-up to take responsibility for them, & a soft place to land.”
~ Matthew Roydon, Shadow of Night

Shadow of Night picks up exactly where A Discovery of Witches leaves you hanging. This thrill ride through Elizabethan England is believable and a bit mesmerizing. Diana finds out the Mathew has some very interesting Friends. I don’t want to give away any important details to the story, you will have to read it for yourself . When you do you will be immersed in daily life of the 1590s.

Harkness’s skills for historical research and accuracy shine through out this book as Diana learns more about her magic as she searches for Ashmole 782. Diana and Mathew experience ordinary life with a supernatural twist. If you disliked the first book because it was slow in the beginning, you will be pleased that this book is a thrill ride from the start all the way to the end. You will also find out the answers to some of the burning questions that left you in knots after reading A Discovery of Witches.