Nonsense and Such: The Animal Minded or None-A Poem?

Lost Man in Chair

Nonsense and Such: The Animal Minded or None

by: Ronovan

I never saw the flight of a turtle dove,

its shell must weigh so much.

But when the howler monkey screeches

why does he choose to say it such?

 

And how much tross could an albatross tross

if an albatross could tross tross?

The truth of the matter is so simple.

You determine it by a coin toss.

 

Where does the rilla go

when he must be somewhere?

Wherever it must be,

he will go in his suit of hair

 

What does the snake wear with its rattle,

when it attends a formal function?

Whatever it is, it must be secure,

lest there be a wardrobe malfunction.

 

And how will the old coot bandi about,

when the season does change?

Most likely find another place,

but still in down under range.

 

Some may wonder what has happened,

to the mind of this odd man

I will explain to you someday,

when I can catch it with my hand.

 

 

© 2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

life’s cycle – a haiku poem

samhradh’s sweet first day,

is time of birth and searching,

yields to cloak and death

 

 


© 2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

Ronovan Hester on how to create a character…and a brand new book!

Here is my blog tour stop with author Sue Vicent. Here I explain how I came about creating characters for Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling, my debut novel.

You don’t know what it does for you when people like Sue invite you to share on her site.

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Ronovan Hester is a familiar face around here… many know him through his Lit World Interviews site, as well as for the weekly writing prompts he hosts on his own blog, Ronovan Writes, including the Haiku Challenge. He is an indefatigable supporter of Indie writers and reviewers.

Lately Ronovan has embarked upon a new adventure and, with P.S. Bartlett, author of the Razor’s Adventures Pirate Tales, has just launched a new book: Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling… and to celebrate the launch, there is a chance to win a Kindle Fire too…

Amber Wake

First, I wish to give a big thank you to Sue Vincent for time on her site for my first ever book blog tour. Second, how to come up with something to write about for author Sue Vincent’s blog in regards to my own book? That’s like asking Sylvester Stallone to teach an art class…

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Nonsense and Such: The Animal Minded or None-A Poem? (Throwback Thursday)

Lost Man in Chair

Nonsense and Such: The Animal Minded or None

by: Ronovan

I never saw the flight of a turtle dove

Its shell must weigh so much

But when the howler monkey screeches

Why does he choose to say it such

 

And how much tross could an abla tross

If an abla could tross tross

The truth of the matter is so simple

You determine it by a coin toss

 

Where does the rilla go

When he must be somewhere

Wherever it must be

He will go in his suit of hair

 

What does the snake wear with its rattle

When it attends a formal function

Whatever it is it must be secure

Lest there be a wardrobe malfunction

 

And how will the old coot bandi about

When the season does change

Most likely find another place

But still in down under range

 

Some may wonder what has happened

To the mind of this odd man

I will explain to you someday

When I can catch it with my hand

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-May28, 2014.

The L.A.W. in London: Yeah, Baby.

In the last episode of The L.A.W. & Ronovan  who met Ms. Marzapan and Hugh in a skytower or something like that, um, there was like this zombie dance troop and the L.A.W. and Ronovan, I mean me, I mean I discovered that Cyril Bussiere had created all these mind altering things to get rid of like all the Hugh’s of the world. I secretly think it’s because he is jealous of Hugh’s, well I won’t tell that now. Just wait. I just hope we catch him before that housekeeper that he left behind without a job does. Oh, and the Doctor showed up to give us a ride to London.

Credit: Freefoto.com



 

“Well that certainly was a bumpy landing,” the Doctor said.

“Indeed,” Elena said. She had taken on a British accent for some reason. Actually all of the L.A.W. had. I feared that if music started to play they would tell me what they want what they really, really want. But the door opened just in time.

We apparently had come to rest in some type of store.

“Ow!” Cat said.

I looked and she had an Oreo stuck to her head. “What the—,”

“Uh uh, Kate, none of that language,” Jenna said. “Hey, look!”

We all turned to follow her very excited finger. “Ruby slippers!” Kate said. She dove for them but they disappeared as her hands grasped nothing but empty air. Stinky empty air.

“What is that awful smell?” Amira asked.

“Smells like Troll feet,” I said.

“That’s because that is precisely what it was. Internet Troll feet,” the Doctor said.

“Oh, Doctor, I am so glad you came,” a woman said. We all turned.

“No way!” Jenna said.

“Yes way!” Amanda said.

“No, really no whey,” Jenna said looking at the case behind Amanda. “I love yogurt without whey in it. It’s a great substitute for sour cream and things like that. Lot less fat and calories. Yum!”

I looked at the Doctor. He looked at me. He went into the blue box thing. And then, gone. I couldn’t blame him.

“You know I so don’t blam—,”

I didn’t get the words out of my mouth before I found myself being tackled to the ground by several tough women. One that looked like a train. And one with a—Rudolph nose?

Screeching tires and the smell of burning rubber assaulted our senses. “Yeah, baby,” we heard. “I say, I didn’t see any rockin’ so I came a knockin’.”

We all stared at the man with the thick glasses, mop top hair and extremely tight pants. “It can’t be,” I said.

“Oh but it can, baby. Well, you’re not a baby, that’s just one of my catch phrases. Unless, wait you’re not a man!” Suddenly the insane1960s reject was trying to pull off my shirt and my hair.

“Austin Powers, get off of him,” Ms. Maple said.

Powers looked up and squinted at Ms. Maple. “Honey?” He asked. “Honey Maple, is that you?”

“Austin, I told you never to call me that in front of people,” Ms. Maple said. I had only seen her on Skype but I didn’t think the red flushed complexion was her natural look.

Powers got up and was at her side in a flash. “Groovy, baby. And I do mean baby,” he said. “At least I didn’t tell them why I call you Honey.”

Ms. Maple giggled like a school girl.

I looked at the others and saw various reactions from the rolling of eyes to dry heaving. There was even a reindeer being used as a gag to not laugh. I just hope it had not been tried on for a fitting.

“Should we ask him why he is here?” I asked.

“I say no,” Amira said.

“Agreed,” everyone else said in unison.

“Jenna,” Amanda said. “What did you find out in El Waco?”

For some reason none of us corrected her. It was like we had entered a Twilight Zone and decided we would just go with the flow. “Cyril Bussiere is behind it all, or at least he’s a top gun. Oh, I sooo loved that movie. And the songs. Oh, Take My Breath Away was sooo good. And then You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling. I just melt every time Ronovan si—,”

“Ahem,” I said.

“Oopsie,” Jenna said. Her smile flashed.

I shook my head. “You really need to explain to them someday that you have a friend named Ronovan or this could all get really weird.”

“For sure, right?” she said.

Face palm.

“Okay, as she was saying. French Texan blogger Cyril Bussiere, also author of The World Might available on Amazon at a reasonable price and can be followed on Twitter at @CyrilBussiere, came up with a special formula that looks and tastes just like—,”

“Yes?” Kate asked.

“You were there, Kate, you know,” Elena said. “You told us what it was.”

“Oh, right. Healthy Oreo cream,” Kate said.

“Not so healthy,” I said.

“Mind altering.”

Amira was right. “And, we found blueprints,” I said.

“For what, a death ray?” Amanda asked.

“No.”

“A sting ray?” Eloise asked.

“No.”

“A blu ray?” Cat asked.

“Cat!” the rest of the L.A.W said.

“I got caught up, alright?”

“Mind controlling helmets that look like bowl cut hairstyles,” I said.

Amanda’s eyes got bigger than ever. I swear I saw photos of Thailand. “The royal family.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And possibly Rhianna and Miley Cyrus. Just saying.”

“Oh dear,” Amanda said.

“We can only stop all of this one way,” I said.

“How?” Seven female voices asked in harmony.

I just so hoped they didn’t discover they all loved ABBA. Mama Mia. “We go back in time.”

“What? How?” Eloise asked.

Amanda smiled, tilted her head to the right and gave her trademark look. “I know,” she said and pointed.

We all turned to follow her obviously mommy finger. The psychedelic painted Mini Cooper.

“No way,” said Jenna.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Amanda said.

“All aboard,” Eloise said.

I just had time to turn before Amanda ripped the onesie off.

“Oh dear,” Eloise said. “Thank goodness for this Batman onesie I had on underneath.”

I hung my head and just hoped that this would all be over soon. I had no idea crossing the ocean meant crossing into insanity. And here I always thought British women were hot. Maybe it was Australian women I was thinking of. Where was Olivia Newton John from again?

“Everyone in,” Elena said. “Ronovan, you first, backseat. Pile on the Ronovan time.” Okay maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. Wait, where was Hugh?


 

 

Ronovan Writes

 

 

 

 

@RonovanWrites

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© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015

Writing Tips: Em Dash, Ellipsis and Error

Writing Tips: Em Dash, Ellipsis and Error

Let’s talk about flow for a moment. I am not one for punctuation. Anyone that reads my work will quickly discover that I am awful with it. I try to work around it by using different wording or shorter sentences. I imagine to myself this will hide my weakness. But to an expert, a pro it will be obvious.

There are three things I would like to talk about. This has to do with the flow of a sentence, its basic appearance. The em dash, the ellipsis, and the double space error are also three things that can call you out to an agent or editor.

I’ve written for decades now, but only recently, or so I believe, have I taken notice of the little things of writing that are really much larger than I ever imagined.

The em dash:

In all honesty I had never heard of this until recently. Oh, sure I have seen it but I didn’t know it had a name. I should have known everything has a name and if it doesn’t someone will come along to name it shortly just so they can say they did it.

 Humphrey Bogart as Sam SpadeYou are to use the em dash when there is a sudden change or interruption in the sentence. Strunk and White states to use this only when a more common form of punctuation will not seem to work. That seems a little vague to me. But if you take a look at just about any form of writing you will see the em dash everywhere. By the way, the em dash is a double dash. Basically it is called an em dash because it takes up the widest letter font, the letter m. The en dash is a single dash.

Some writers just use it any time they like instead of commas or semicolons. Why? Either they think it’s cool or they don’t know punctuation or it could just be a style. Is it wrong? Truthfully, writing styles are slowly  becoming less and less strict with structure but there is a purpose to proper structure. It isn’t just for a good grade. It’s for a good read.

For me, I think I would use the em dash in harsh situations, or rather tough talk situations. If I were writing a detective novel I think the em dash would fit. I can see Humphrey Bogart in the Maltese Falcon reading out the punctuation of the dialogue now and I can hear ‘dash’ instead of ‘comma’ coming from him. Bogey did rapid fire dialogue great and he could switch between directions of dialogue so quick you almost didn’t see it happen. That script must have been em dash loaded.

“We beat it down to the docks and kicked the door in.”

“You did what?” Carson asked.

“I said—what’s she doing here?” Sam looked at the woman walking in the door.

Carson looked at the long legs as they passed him. “Sam—she’s doing anything she likes.”

In this example you get the fill that Sam immediately changes his words as the woman walks in. There is no pause. He just goes straight into questioning. For me that works. In the second case it doesn’t work for me. To me Carson is pausing after he says Sam as he thinks about the woman, so the em dash is too harsh there. The ellipses wouldn’t work because there is no missing dialogue or trailing off, there is just a hesitation so I would use the comma.

The Ellipsis:

The ellipsis is when you use (. . .). Of course that is without the parenthesis. You use three periods with a space between each one. Again, I had no idea such a thing had a name. And would you believe it . . . I had been using it wrong all these years. I didn’t put a space between the periods. Oops. And, I just used it incorrectly.  And no, I did not do that intentionally. I read back through this article and found it. It happens, so always proofread your work.

BacallYou use this when a sentence is trailing off or you are picking up in the middle of a conversation or a place I use it is when I am writing a telephone conversation but we only hear one side of it.

“We beat it down to the docks and kicked the door in.”

“You did what?” Carson asked.

“I said . . . what’s she doing here?” Sam looked at the woman walking in the door.

Carson looked at the long legs as they passed him. “Sam . . . she’s doing anything she likes.”

Now we have a pause here instead of the em dash and it’s as though Sam has looked at the woman a moment first before speaking.

The second pause works for me, but it’s not right. A comma will do the job.

 “We beat it down to the docks and kicked the door in.”

“You did what?” Carson asked.

“I said–what’s she doing here?” Sam looked at the woman walking in the door.

Carson looked at the long legs as they passed him. “Sam, she’s doing anything she likes.”

Combining the both the em dash and the comma pause in the passage works for me because I get a change of pace with each. There is a sense of urgency from Sam and casualness from Carson. It adds to character development with just a little change in punctuation.

The Space After Punctuation:

People from my age and older learned to type on typewriters, even if they were electric ones. This means we learned to hit the space bar twice after the ending punctuation of a sentence. For all those who do that, STOP! Computer fonts are set so that everything is spaced properly.

An agent or editor will look at your work and immediately see the spacing error. Should this be a killer to your career? No, but many agencies use interns and they like to sort through the submissions and for a punctuation pet peeve artist or someone who has a space phobia you have put them off already and they’ll just not continue. Hit the space bar once…ever.

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 16, 2014.

A beauty so high.

Stoneworth didn’t give a fig about life. As far as he was concerned it could end in a breath and that would be just fine with him. He had lived long enough and life was a bunch of bull. Every step he took he stepped in a big pile of a reminder of it.

“Mr. Stoneworth, may I have your autograph, please,” said the young girl.

Stoneworth looked at the book and pen offered. Gritting his teeth he put on his best fake grin and signed one of his somehow formulaic but popular mysteries. If he thought it all was crap then why did he care if the girl was happy or not? Perhaps he didn’t want it to be all bad, maybe he wanted a sign of something good. Or maybe he wanted to pay bills until the crap buried him.

He left the tip on the table and then the cafe behind. His burger was not even half eaten. It was not a normal bull day.

It was worse. It was like rodeo week and he was the head scooper.

He should have stayed home and eaten the frozen Chinese dinner. It would match the frozen ears he had from the early winter wind. His work was now going to suck the rest of the day and night and he was going to be hungry. Any flow of plot he had was gone. And he had a deadline. Ten days or death would be knocking at his door. Either death or his agent. They looked about the same.

His apartment smelled like burnt hot chocolate, not coffee. He had tried the stuff but couldn’t drink it until it had enough milk, sugar and chocolate syrup in it to taste like hot chocolate. Why waste the time and the money? Just cut out the middle men.

He looked at the wall thermostat and the screwed on lock box. Freaking landlord. 65 degrees. He left his coat on and turned the small electric heater on. He let it oscillate just to have some noise in the place.

Even though he knew his purpose of the day was ruined he sat down at the laptop anyway. The 1 appeared at the top of one tab of the many opened in his browser for research on ancient Central American civilizations. His thoughts improved with hope.

He had mail. The list of songs were long and not quite his usual fare but he listened. She had sent them. He didn’t listen to much music. It caused headaches. But from her, the headaches didn’t happen. They inspired him.

My beauty has given a gift to me

One I don’t often have time to take

It could not be more sweet and dear

Unless the music her own fingers did make

How is one so beautiful

How is she in my life

If by chance life did change

“Stoneworth!”

He looked up at the ghastly form approaching. He stared through it. Why would it not leave him be? The ghost of a past that was no longer his. All he wanted was the now, the reality of what is.

He did not need what was the never was. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together until his fingers turned white. The music started again in his ears.

“Worthless! Invalid!”

Stoneworth moved his hands to his ears and pressed hard. Forcing the music in. Driving the hate away.

The pain seared through his brain and down his spine. Cackling laughter reached his now unprotected ears. He slowly sank to the floor unable to control his movements. His body arched as spasms began.

Laughter.

Music.

Laughter.

He shut his eyes tight. Focus on her eyes, those brown eyes, focus. The cackling continued. The pain continued. But suddenly he did not care. He felt warmth touch his skin. A smile crossed his face. It didn’t matter. There was a light he could see now for the first time. And music. He was climbing higher and higher. His dream was there, higher than he had ever been before. A beauty like he would never witness again.

**

“What happened?”

“I don’t know officer. I came in when he missed his deadline for a book he was writing and found him.”

“Did you turn that heater on?”

“No officer. It was already going. I moved it away from his face though. It was really close.”

“Well, it looks like a heart attack.”

“He always said that’s how he would go.”

“Well, this looks like another case he solved before he ever got a chance to write it.”

stoneworth

Ronovan

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© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2014

Non Accidental Events Lead to Intentional Good-True Story

Non Accidental Events Lead to Intentional Good

by: Ronovan

Sometimes you just don’t know how you ended up where you are. I’ve been in many ‘places’ over my many years and somehow they end up being connected in one way or the other. Oh, I don’t mean by actually connected in the sense that one thing knew the other but in that there was a reason one happened and ended and the next began.

Light at the end of the tunnelI had an interesting life growing up. I was born of two people who were picking oranges in the groves of Florida during a time of free love, or maybe at the end of that era really. My father from Tupelo, MS. who was a drummer, guitar playing singer who drove a truck and recorded at Sun Records in Memphis, TN. Yes that Sun Records, and yes, that’s where Elvis recorded. And no, he wasn’t Elvis.

He was also part of the Southern Mafia which led me into a few interesting situations. Ever been 3 years old and been chased down dirt roads in Florida by a man with a gun? No? I didn’t think you had. How about being back home in Tupelo, MS and having to be slung around in a truck doing a 180 because of some ‘men’ that had blocked the road to stop your father? No? Well then you didn’t get shot at and the windows shatter either.

There were other things that happened as well, all in the span of the years up to my 2nd grade in school. That’s when I ‘arranged’ for a girl on the playground to see the black belt mark across my back and run to the teacher. I had made a promise not to tell, and I was a good boy and kept my promises. I didn’t ‘tell’ anyone. After the police and social workers finished with me that day I never saw my bio father again. He and my mother were divorced anyway, so no great loss.

But through that and a series of not accidental events, because I know that all things are used for the good of life, I ended up in a situation where I worked with young people and helped many with home lives that were rough. Even the arrangement of time to work with them was an obvious non accidental event.

Even today, being here in the blog world and meeting new people, encouraging and being encouraged has been another non accidental event out of a life changing event. Good comes out of everything, no matter how bad it is, it only remains a negative influence on me/you if you let it be such.

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-2014

How to come up with a book idea.

Whether you are in NaNoWriMo, just starting thinking about writing, or wondered how authors came up with their ideas, here are a few ways we do it. My article on LitWorldInterviews.

Lit World Interviews

You have a goal to write a novel. Perhaps you want to do so in one month’s time. You are pumped and ready to go. You sit down at your keyboard and

You got it, nothing happens. Blank. Headache. Pit level feeling of nausea. Despair.

I know of what I speak. I think I just proved that. What do do about it.

How to come up with a book idea.

Thousands of books are unleashed upon the world every day. Therefore there must be thousands of ideas floating around out there somewhere. But you want yours to be original and not a copy of someone else. I get that, I really do. I actually avoid reading at times because I want my story to be my story.

How do I come up with ideas?

I’ve written perhaps . . . well we’ll say in the double digit numbers of books…

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Three Word Wisdom-A Haiku

Three Word Wisdom

by: Ronovan

Sunglasses

Repudiating,

Unconventionality,

Discombobulates

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

Odd One Out

Never the one chosenBlossom on tree

Never the one choice

Never the one chased

Never the one charmed

 

Ever the one alone

Ever the one afar

Ever the one aware

Ever the one alarmed

 

The one hurting

The one heaving

The one haunting

The one howling

 

Battered

Broken

Bound

Bent

 

Rising

Reveling

Realizing

Reinventing

 

Now the one embraced

Now the one enthroned

Now the one empowered

Now the one elegantly…alone and okay

 

Inspired by several offerings I’ve read today about things not owed and being that odd girl out. One a more detailed piece and the other a photograph. I think all people at some point and many creative people especially can relate to those two offerings.

 

bloglovin

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

The Lost Minded Heart

The Lost Minded Heart

by: Ronovan

 

Depressed Man in Dark Room
gettyimages © Original Photo by Michael H

Oh this mind I have.

It seeks to tear itself from my skull,

And scatter its sanity across the wind.

It denies me all things that I crave.

Long sequenced words to form thoughts,

Escape behind a mesh door, seen but unattainable.

This mind knows it is a piercing pain of storm and fury.

How I hate it.

It laughs and runs and races and calls and shouts and screams and twists.

Do I mind?

Ha! What mind do I have to mind with?

But how does one without a mind each day continue on?

How does the mindless give, how does it give hope?

How does the less minded give encouragement?

 

The Lost Mind still has heart.

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

Asphalt and Inheritance

 

cropped-cropped-lost-mind-michael-h.jpg

Why, why, why?

Is this time to be torn by the pattern woven by men?

Do lives creep silently to catch a breath just for a moment in a light that will never set upon them?

Hurling through concrete hoops to land on melted asphalt to be trapped by the creations they have made.

Can they complain?

Do they have a right?

They made it.

They were the forces that shoved it down the throats of others.

Helplessness has been rewarded with gloating over the fall of the mighty movers of all.

The meek and the earth,

They shall inherit.

But is the earth our home or heaven?

The meek of what shall inherit which?

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

Female Focus Friday Reblog: Murder she wrought! AWESOME! or nuts…

Nishi is either really insane or this is like incredibly original and funny. I mean seriously. I had to Reblog this For Female Feature Friday. Go check it out and get your knives read!!!!!
Much Respect
Ronovan

The Showcase

The Farmers Wife or shall we call her Mrs Farmer was getting dinner ready at home..It was almost midday and the farmer household was quiet. The oldest of Mrs. F’s six was out in the field with Mr. Farmer and the little ones were at different spots all carrying out their allocated chores after they had come back from school. There was absolutely no dearth for work around the house and no one was too young to do their part.

She moved around the kitchen whilst preparing dinner. The Farmers were having meatloaf that evening and as she heard the kitchen timer ding, using her oven mitts she took out her signature dish out of the oven and slowly placed it on the kitchen counter. As the delicious aroma filled her kitchen, she turned to where the carving knives were placed and she could’nt help feeling a tingling sensation pass…

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Bus Stop Stories: Margaret and Martin-A Man’s Stomach. She wins? or He Loses?

“I don’t care, I’m not going to like it.” Martin’s arms were firmly crossed in combat formation.

“I know, dear.”

He lifted his hands, shoulders up around his ears. The first crack in his battle formation. “Then why are we going?”

“Because we must. If we don’t, you know what they will say.” Margaret’s head bobbed with every other word.

Martin’s hand slapped down on his gray slacks. He shook his head and stared at the sidewalk. The shaking stopped, and he looked at me. “I will trade with you.”

I held my hands up in defense.

He nodded. “I thought so.” He turned to Margaret. “See, I told you. I doubt I could pay for someone to take my place.” His shoulders sagged, his eyes focused on the reliable cracks in the pavement.

“No one you ask will know what you’re talking about. Besides, if we don’t go then we won’t be able to stop off at Strom’s Deli on the way back.” She leaned forward, as if she were looking for the bus.

The shoulders straightened. Martin’s eyes lifted from the sidewalk. “Well, I guess it would look bad if we were the only ones not there. It’s not like I have any problems with it, it’s just that it’s so far away. But if it will make you happy, then okay.”

Martin stood up as he heard the whine of the bus, that sound only a bus makes. Margaret stood and looked down at me. She winked and put her arm in through the crook of her husband’s.

He helped her up onto the first step of the bus and then followed. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But so is his weakness.

 

 

© 2014-2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

How to come up with a book idea.

How to Come up with a Book Idea

 

You want to write a novel, but you don’t know how to come up with an idea. You’re sitting there at your keyboard or notebook and it just isn’t happening. You’ve doodled Mickey Mouse several times and you’ve created som new abstract work of art that might become the next wallpaper design for your computer, but yet, zero, zilch, zippo. Welcome to The Reality World, Novel Limbo.

Yes, that was a slight homage to The Real World, the real one from way back when. Yes I saw the very first one when it was in New York. You know, back when reality TV was not as obnoxious and pardon my saying this ‘silly’. If you have been around you know I can’t say the ‘st**id’ word because I’ve taught my son ‘B’ that it’s a bad word. You never want your kid to accidentally say something just because its part of is vocabulary. Okay parenting thing over with.  I still wonder about that date the girl went on and the guy told her she had wide hips that were good for breeding. What was that about?

 

But now back to the coming up with a book idea. And actually my digression up there is part of the problem, distractions. Or is it?

 

Why couldn’t I write a book about the ‘Bad words for Boys’? I just copyrighted that in case anyone is wondering. ChuCHING! I guess that’s how you spell that. Anyway, that’s an example of how to come up with an idea. Just listen to yourself and pay attention to your world. I could have edited the whole part out about my son ‘B’ but I didn’t. I am free flow writing the article and let it happen and there it is. I’m leaving it in as an example.

 

But let’s get down to other ways of how you actually can do it. I didn’t come up with the idea for ‘Bad word for Boys’ until I started writing this article and actually wrote those words of randomness.

 

Things to do:

  • Live life-Yes, you should experience life so you have something to draw from. This isn’t to say go out and sky dive. This means live. Exist. Function.
  • Write what you know about-I know it’s an old standard but it’s true. I know about what ‘Bad words for Boys’ are, so I can write about it. I could write about living with various health problems that are out of my control.
  • Sit down and just start writing-Just write whatever comes to mind, journal if you need to, just write and an idea will come. I encourage people to do writing prompts, either from a book of them or even those posted daily through websites. I seriously wrote an article about a need for Pants Vending Machines from a prompt. I never would have come up with it if there hadn’t decided to see what the prompt of the day was, and it was about Vending Machines that were needed. I chose pants.
  • Take a favorite story and twist it 180-Look at the takes on Little Red Riding Hood, Snow White, and The Wizard of Oz. These are direct twists, but you can even take a story and just twist it and make it its own.
  • Write down your thoughts-Keep a note pad handy or some recorder device to write down what comes to mind even at night. You won’t remember that great idea in the morning. I know I had a great poem idea the other night and I even remember that the lines were perfect, but I don’t remember what they are.

 

 

I’ll give you two examples of how ideas can happen. I recently interviewed two authors; Alysha Kaye of The Waiting Room, and Cyril Bussiere of The WorldMight. The books are completely different, worlds apart, but both involve love that is apart. Now let’s look how they came up with those ideas.

 

Here is Alysha Kaye from our recent interview:

Alysha Kaye Author The Waiting Room

“I had a dream about waiting for my boyfriend after death. I was in a strange room that looked a lot like an airport terminal. I wound up writing him a (very cheesy) poem about it and somehow, that became an entire novel! I couldn’t get it out of my head.”-Alysha Kaye

 

A dream that ended up as a poem that turned into a The Waiting Room, a published novel. You’ve had those dreams. You just need to write them down as quickly as possible when you wake up while they are fresh. Will those dreams be a book? Not always, but you will have them there to find out.

 

 

 

Now for Cyril Bussiere from a quote in our interview:

cyril.bussiere

“Then an idea came to me while driving a U-haul truck across Texas . . . about a princess trapped in a sleeping beast and her prince trying to free her; and he needs a word that has never been said to wake the beast up and rescue her.”-Cyril Bussiere

 

See, the monotony of driving a truck across Texas probably led him into this mindless state of wandering thoughts and there it was; his first novel, The WorldMight. It took time before it continued further but it did continue.

 

 

If you wanted to you could sit down and force yourself through a regime to develop an idea.

  • Take a topic or subject you like
  • Start researching it
  • Find some fact either known or preferably obscure, and start working with it
  • Then start either by the seat of the pants writing or outlining

 

I had an idea for a novel but had no idea how to work it. I started researching and things suddenly clicked. Now the book is so in depth that I haven’t finished it because of the complexity of what I want to do with it, but I could make it a lot simpler and just finish it. (By the way, using ‘just’ is a pet peeve of mine. I can’t stand it when I use it.)

 

But there are these little things you can find during research that will amaze you. If you are amazed then there will be others that are as well.

 

The real secret? I’ll tell you but you can’t tell anyone else. You have to keep working at it. Don’t give up on it. Writing is easy, writing well is difficult, creating a novel and publishing it is excruciating. That’s not trying to discourage you, that’s just telling you what it can be, it’s keeping it real . . . Real-no, not going to do it again.

 

So how do you come up with a novel idea? And it truly is a novel idea because you want to be a different to capture the attention of readers. You pay attention and listen to yourself and write. Write down every little dream you have, every thought you think is cool, random, or oddball, journal, just write.

 

 

Much Respect

Ronovan

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

A Conversation

A Conversation

by: Ronovan

 

“Tell me how you’ve been doing since the last time we spoke?”

 

At least the questioning was consistent. I supposed I should take comfort in there being something that remained the same. Of course that didn’t stop me from replying without the brain filter in place. “Do you really have to ask?” I kept staring at the ceiling tiles. I wondered if the room was really that dark.

 

There wasn’t a reply or even a sigh revealing a hint of disapproval or exasperation at my tone of wording. Not that I really expected one. “Okay, fine, I’m about the same as always. Is that what you wanted to me to say?”

 

“Only if that’s the way you’ve really been.”

 

Was that what they call passive aggressive? “Yeah,” I sighed. I had always wondered what that ‘sigh of an answer’ meant in reading but now I knew. You could sigh and speak at the same time. It’s like a surrender of spirit almost.

 

“Tell me how yesterday was.”

 

“It’s like every other day Pinky, I tried to recover my world,” I said.

 

No laugh. None expected. But I imagined old cartoon shows about mice weren’t on the viewing list.

 

“Where do you want me to start?” I stared at the spot on the ceiling where the shadows always made the dust look like a puppy if you looked just right.

 

“How did you sleep?”

 

The thought of ‘in a bed’ came to mind but I knew better than to be that sarcastic. There was being pretty tolerant and forgiving of my moods, and there was downright disrespectful. Even if I didn’t have the brain filter any longer I still knew better than to be downright disrespectful. “I woke up about 1:30 the first time, I think. The days tend to run together after so many being the same.”

 

“Are you sure it wasn’t 3:00 AM?”

 

I was wrong there was a sense of humor. “You’re a funny guy I don’t care what they say about you.”

 

“Why did you wake up this time?”

 

I smiled in spite of exhaustion. “This is a funny one. I think I actually breathed too hard.” I knew that wasn’t going to be enough of an answer, but it was the truth.

 

“How do you breathe too hard?

 

“Well, actually I just took a deep breath for some reason. It could be the sleep apnea.” But if it were sleep apnea then I would not be breathing at all, but then I would take big gulps of air. Okay so it might have been the sleep apnea.

 

“And why would the deep breath wake you up?”

 

I started counting the tiles in the ceiling, as if they had changed in number since last time, or the time before that, or even the time before that one. “Pain Monster didn’t like it.”

 

“The ‘pain monster’ is your lower back?”

 

“Yes,” I began. “At least that’s what woke me up. Then Neck Grinder started to protest as well.”

Continue reading

Southern Magnolia Desire

 

 

Southern Magnolia Desire

by: Ronovan

Southern Magnolia

Some women of the South are called Southern Magnolias

Their smiles are more dazzling than any snow

Foliage gathers round them setting off smiles

All working together to make all the men to desire to know

 UGA RonovanWrites Mangolia Open

 

 

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-July 05, 2014.

Make me WANT your Blog

What can your Blog give me that no one else can? Why should I read something from you instead of someone else? Make me stay on your site and keep coming back for more. How can you do that? How can you MAKE me want to come back for more? So what I am really asking from you?

 

Make me WANT your Blog

by: Ronovan

 

I know a lot of bloggers who, especially of late, are finding it difficult to keep creating things to write about. They cannot come up with a new fiction story, a new poem, a new 10 Things list, or a new How To list. How many sites do you know that have those types of things?

 

I’ll go out to a movie while you count, and maybe a bite to eat as well.

E.T. Movie Poster
Sniff, sniff . . . Ellllliiiiiooooot.

 

Oh, um . . . hi.

Yeah, I’m back, you can finish the counting later.

I have some friends who do the slice of life and list blogs very well and I love them. But they can take their toll on you. Just take a look at them and there is more than just a story about what happened. They tell a story and the good ones go through creating a lot of images to go along with it to make it that much more fun for you. All that can equal to . . .

Burnout signYou’ll likely see that as my header photo for my blog someday . . . soon.

There are others who just are getting to the point of their blogs are not going in the direction they want them to. They want to continue but they are lost somehow.

Then for some reason they will publish something about where they are from. It might be personal memories, opinions, or photographs. Their voice in the writing is completely different. It’s personal. And that is when they draw me in completely. Even if you are from the city next to mine, I still want to see what you see and learn about how you see things.

Lady teacher in front of map.

I want to learn.

 

We have an opportunity through our blogs to connect to people around the world and turn eacMilitary Helicopter over Pakistanh country into a place with human beings in it and not just a news broadcast of something bad happening or where a politician, sporting event, or celebrity happens to be. The news turns the place into the event.

The event has nothing to do with the people.

Two boys in lake Pakistan.

 

 

Mix your blog up a little with a bit about your country. I know I don’t do it, but I am so busy putting poetry and tips out that I rarely have time to even think about anything else. But I have done a couple of articles about Southern Culture. And I plan to do a little more.

 

I think some of my writing tells a bit about where I live through my life. I tend to explore deep feelings and emotions in my writing, not intentionally, but it happens. I know not everyone will do that. Use your photography and your experiences and tell us the story of how your country, your city, your culture really is.

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-July 03, 2014.

Half fabricated Nonfiction-A Poem

Half fabricated Nonfiction

by: Ronovan

Black and White Money Flag

What’s my thoughts on the political debates?

Sit right back while your time I confiscates.

You have the pros over here and the cons over there.

Depending on your side depends which you think is fair.

 

There are the facts that we all know about.

But they are the facts that others put out.

You want this view then go to that site.

You want another well you got another for a sound bite.

 

Here is my take on the whole situation.

I hope it don’t start your heart into palpitation.

In my honest opinion and as you know I have no other.

I think the whole thing is just a big old great mother.

 

I don’t know jack about which side is right.

Because neither side gives up the truth to our sight.

Give me half lie and I’ll find you a half truth.

Let them open their mouth and I’ll show you the serpent tooth.

 

What side do you want to win in this here contradiction.

The one for or against in this hell-bent half fabricated presented nonfiction.

I tell you what to do and then you can tell me to go blow.

Because you all know that no matter what I say you already know what you know.

 

You take what you believe and vote on what you like.

Then when your rep gets elected they’ll tell you to take a hike.

It’s over and done with now that you got them in office.

You should have taken history as a sign an auspice.

They got their lifetime payment plan in the bank.

Now they just roll with whatever their donors put in their sugar tank.

Sounds all kind of like there isn’t much we can do.

Let me tell you the fact is that the sounds is just that—true.

 

Politics is a root of all kinds of evil portent.

They say it is money but let me tell you they both lead to discontent.

You see if we all did what we should be doing.

We would all be together refreshed and renewing.

 

You do yours and I’ll do mine is what some people say.

But what happens when yours seems to be treading on my way.

We hear the yelling and shouting and the screaming and stewing.

But all it comes to is a lot of name calling and political screwing.

 

Don’t ask me to support something I am against.

I won’t ask you the same if an issue of yours is dispensed.

Whoever comes out on top is the way it will be.

Until the next tomorrow when everyone will disagree.

 

Now that I’ve ranted and you have wanted away.

I’ll end with this bit of mindless attempt at something to say.

Whatever anyone votes and decides is in a runoff.

Just go ahead and put it where it belongs . . . in the hog trough.

 

Snake on table

 

 

 

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-July 02, 2014.