A Book Is Born

Joy to the world!

My kid 'zine is at the printer... 

It's also in my Etsy shop... (click on the Etsy Badge in the upper right-hand corner to see it)

What is a 'zine? A zine (zeen - short for magazine or fanzine) is a small-circulation self-published work of original or appropriated texts and images, usually reproduced via a copy machine. Zines are the product of either a single person or of a very small group, and are popularly photocopied into physical prints for circulation. A fanzine (blend of fan and magazine) is a non-professional and non-official publication produced by enthusiasts of a particular cultural phenomenon (such as a literary or musical genre) for the pleasure of others who share their interest. The term was coined in an October 1940 science fiction fanzine by Russ Chauvenet and popularized within science fiction fandom, entering the Oxford English Dictionary in 1949. (source: Wikipedia)

I owe a giant debt of gratitude to my good friend and gifted publisher/editor/technology wizard/wordsmith/poet Jen Payne, owner of Words By Jen and Three Chairs Publishing, for helping me through the editing and production process that made this long-awaited day possible.

Getting encouragement and positive feedback from trusted friends has been a positive and rewarding experience for me. We'll see how far that will take little Miss Nancy-Dragon in the self-publishing domain, but regardless of how popular this little 'zine becomes, it is still a dream come true for me and my deceased fur-person.

One of my biggest concerns during this long process was that 12 years of editing and tweaking my story might somehow diminish the original intent of remembering and memorializing my cat in a fun, fanciful and poignant way. 

In the beginning, it was simply a drawing and a sentence in my art journal after Nancy died. Then it evolved into a lengthy rhyming story. I submitted it in a children's book contest but it didn't make the cut. I kept trimming it and making sure the meter was consistent. I knew I wanted to publish it, but hiring a copy editor, finding an illustrator and being accepted by a publishing house was completely daunting. 

Then my friend suggested putting it out as a 'zine, and when I said "Yes!" I felt immediate relief and joy. So now it is done and even if it's just my friends buying and sharing it with the little ones in their lives, I will be forever grateful. Very few of them actually read or know about this blog, but that's okay... I write it for myself anyway.

So - a big shout-out and a sincere thank-you to the Universe for enabling me to do this... for my Nancy, for my Mom (I wish they were both still here!) and for My Self. 

I can't wait to create my next 'zine! 

Zentangle Cats...

 

(in the tradition of T.S. Eliot's "The Song of the Jellicles")

Zentangle Cats are whirly and wavy.

Zentangle Cats like to sit in the sun.

Zentangle Cats love their grits and their gravy.

Zentangle Cats' bellies sway when they run.

(to be continued...)

The Return of the Muse

When I write, I tend to visualize images and hear background music, like I'm watching a movie. It's exciting and motivating, but sometimes I think it keeps me from exploring the possibilities of actually writing the story because I get carried away by the possibilities of writing a movie script (which I don't know how to do properly).

But, when the Muse beckons, it's hard to resist her siren's song. It's quite bewitching to start writing something new, even if it's somewhere in the middle of your story line, and you realize that something is taking shape right before your eyes. 

Your characters begin to talk to each other, scenery appears and events unfold. An idea leads to another and before you know it, you are immersed in a world of your own making.

Some stories take a very long time to create; others spring to life and before you realize it, you've written 10,000 words. My problem is... I rarely finish anything.

When I was a journalist, I had to write, research and publish countless articles; most of them needed little or no editing, but when they did need a little make-over, I was fortunate to have really good editors. Personally, I've "written" 2 children's books, 2 Young Adult novels, a play/screenplay and various poems and essays (so far). 

The only one that's "finished" is a fantasy story-poem about one of my dead cats that I started writing a dozen years ago. That one is going to be published (with help from a friend) as a 'zine (a small 24-page booklet) that I'm also illustrating with rubber stamp art and paper cut-outs. I'm hoping to print 100 copies by the end of July 2024. 

I'm really looking forward to finishing something! Wish me luck - stay tuned for more!

Avoid Disappointment and Future Regret

 

Each of us arrives 

with an allotment of Time

How we use it is up to us

We can use it well or use it frivolously

This is not to say we cannot relax, or rest

Or do things simply for enjoyment's sake

But too much wasted Time is fuel for regret

We might regret we didn't achieve our dreams

Or we hesitated and missed having an experience

Or we put off seeing someone or saying something

But these become life lessons well learned

And regret will not change any bitter outcome

Only making amends, moving forward, and laughter

Can ease our regret, our disappointment, our grief

And bring us comfort, and closure, and contentment

Even, perhaps, a smile and hope for a happy ending

To know Peace in life as well as death

Is a precious thing to strive for, in all ways

We can never take Peace for granted

To have it, and maintain it, you must first create it

Within your heart, then share it with others

As you would share Love

With all the souls who need it

This is the best way to use the Time we have

Before our Time ends and is lost forever

  

 

For the Love of Everything

Music on the radio

Colors in the sky

I know I'll really miss it all

If and when I die.

Yes, I could live forever on

Just honey-butter bread, but

I'll miss the bees and butterflies

When I am finally dead.

The flowers and majestic trees

And sweets that make me choke

Old movies that can make me cry

I'll miss them when I croak.

The smell of toast and bacon

Or warm cinnamon buns

But all these things are left behind

The minute I'm all done.

To laugh out loud, to sing a song

A satisfying yawn

Refreshing swim, the smell of rain

They're history when I'm gone.

A garden full of radishes

The beauty of a rose

Perhaps they'd truly benefit

If I quickly decompose.

Releasing all my nutrients

I'd help the grass to grow

To feed a herd of mustangs

As I moulder down below.

Wild dogs could come and sniff me

The birds may drop some seed

The whales might sing or whistle

As my bones disperse like weeds.

It doesn't pay to whimper

I don't wish to complain

But I shall miss so many things

It causes me great pain.

So serve me tea and biscuits

I'll have that glass of wine

And give up everything I own

If I could turn back time.

Long Gone

Poppies - tjb

The coral-colored poppies

with their feathery fern-like leaves

are long gone

So are the purple coneflowers

that grew by the white picket fence

along with a black raspberry bush

where mockingbirds used to nest

The tall evergreen tree near the house

with its twin trunks

where I would hang the bird feeders

Trees - tjb

is now a vine-covered stump

And the row of slender maples

have been reduced to decaying piles of pulp

Gone, too, are the three giant pines 

that used to whisper in the wind

Even the little stream is clogged

and choked with weeds

The yarrow I planted has disappeared

No more morning glories

Good-bye, butterfly bush and flame lilies

Gone, all gone

because of men who arrive

armed with weed-whackers and lawnmowers

and ear-deafening leaf-blowers

and mechanical trimmers

The only thing left are lop-sided bushes

and a copse of tangled trees in the back

in the corner

and a few thrusting tulips

and some daring daffodils

and one little conifer who stands alone 

Miniature daffodils - tjb

not much taller than I am

The bittersweet is still there

and my comfrey, and sweet mugwort

It makes me mad

but mostly I'm sad

because I do not feel protected any more

No longer safe within the circle of life

that used to surround me

It's cold and it's bare

and I no longer care

to be here, living where

there is so little regard for the natural world

Nothing stays the same, nothing lasts forever...

only my memories

Bittersweet - tjb

It All Sounds So Familiar

 

Nearly an entire year has passed me by and I haven't felt compelled to write a single blog... until now

Can my life really be so uneventful? Do I truly have nothing to say? Maybe, maybe not 

My sweet male cat died in October (I am heartbroken)... my brother came to visit me (I hadn't seen him in two years)... my employers are only scheduling me to work one day a week (with no explanation)... a long-time friend abruptly ended our friendship without warning (it was upsetting at the time, but now I'm grateful and I wish her well)... there is so much hostility in the world (people are dying)... 

But all is not lost -- well, except for a few pounds, which is a good thing -- and I am hoping to sell some jewelry or some possessions I no longer need (but that won't pay the bills)... I'm still trying to work on my stories, hoping to get something published...

And I am slowly getting organized (too slow, I'm afraid), trying to detach and get rid of some "stuff" I've "collected" over the years...there's too much and it's stressing me out...

I'm actually ashamed that I haven't done more with my life -- written a book, or a song, or created a unique work of art -- and yet...

I've helped friends in their time of need... I've given support to those who were sad or troubled... I've made someone laugh when they needed a lift... These are all things I want to do, and am always willing and able to do, without compensation... but mostly I want to leave a little something behind when it's time for me to go, and now that I'm older I realize I am literally running out of time... so here's a little rhyme about time... and space... and the meaning of Life

There isn't a tried-and-true road map for Life

The paths are all rocky and steep

But I will keep going, through trauma and strife

'Til the Cosmos sings me to sleep 

Oh, there's always something -- a means to an end --  

That we believe we're meant to do

Meaningful mysteries, mistakes to mend  

Life offers us puzzles, not clues

So raise up your glasses and sing me a song

Keep looking for your heart's desire

If I see you've fallen, I'll help you along

We'll all find a place by the fire

Peace Love Light 

Dedicated to my sweet boy, my dearest love, Copper...