Temple in the Stars – Part 11
Another day, another career altering revelation. Wednesday, I found myself in a position to understand fully what it was I was creating with my daily writing attempts. In all honesty, it shouldn’t be surprising that what I’m making every day isn’t so much ‘book’ material as it is the potential for book material. That’s not a bad thing by any stretch, as it is far harder to tinker with writing that isn’t even there to tinker with. So consistently writing wins, as far as that goes.
Today’s revelation? Time. Time is the biggest issue for any nascent novelist like myself. My work days are 12 hours long, and when I get home I have to manage time for both my wife and my toddler. Further, I still have to get sleep, as I spend three hours driving every single day. That’s a significant amount of time that I am exposed to all the dangers inherent with driving thousands of pounds of weapon for hours on end with other motorists doing the same thing. I have to be sharp, and capable of good decision making during that time. So what am I to do? Our house heads to bed an hour after we all get home, roughly eight thirty every night. It helps, in that I have a small human who sleeps badly, and a wife who sleeps lightly. So the best chance I have to sleep is actually when everyone else is sleeping as well. That goes completely counter to my natural inclinations. I’m a night owl by nature, and if I had my say, I would sleep in a bright and shiny room when the house is dead silent. My wife thinks I’m a vampire. I can neither confirm nor deny this statement.
So where does that leave time for writing? If I go to bed at eight, and it takes me half an hour to an hour to fall asleep, I’m looking at 6 AM for a wake-up time. That’s basically no time for editing, as I am not a morning person, and asking my brain to do high level functioning during the morning hours is a losing proposition. This has been the challenge of my recent months, and until about two weeks ago, I hadn’t found a sufficient answer. Enter a new boss, and a decision to take command of my time at work, and an open line of communication with the new manager. So long as it does not interfere with my ability to do my job, and I keep it to my breaks, lunch time, and other downtime I am free to pursue my writing as I see fit. It wouldn’t have been possible were it not for the aligning of factors outside of my control, but I still had the insight and fortitude (see: Insanity) to reach out to my manager with my situation.
And that brings me to the big revelation, one which has rocked my textbook beta male attitude to the core: If I want this life, I have to be proactive about it. I have to seek out opportunities to alter my situations to allow for writing to happen. I have to actively pursue writing during the times that it is an option. I can’t afford to sit idly by, only writing when I ‘feel I have the time’. That will never happen. Even now, in my time of balance found, I still don’t feel I have enough hours in the day. It still feels like I am rushing through everything I do, and not giving enough time to the things which need to have care and attention given to them. It’s not an easy road to hoe by any stretch, but it wouldn’t even be possible if I weren’t willing to stick my neck out and try to make it happen.
With further proactive effort,
Temple in the Stars – Part 11
Without truly making a decision to do so, Ashley began walking across the idyllic grasslands towards the towering tree structure before her. The grass swayed in time to the leaves on the stone tree, improbably giving the impression of life on what had to be an inanimate structure. There were no paths, no roads, only grassland leading up to the very edge of an enormous door at the base of the structure. Surrounded by columns in the same breathtakingly white, streaked through with gold and azure in the shape of leaves and vines. Over the doorway, reliefs made of gold and azure depicted a dizzying array of creatures fighting in an epic battle against an encroaching foe. The battle depicted showed what Ashley assumed were the defenders in various stages of heroic combat, but with a chill that stopped her aching march, she realized that the defenders were losing. Badly. Not exactly a comforting thought. It was uncanny how menacing the ‘foe’ of the battle appeared, set against a bright white background, colored only in blue and gold. Yet still, it hovered, singular and ominous in the depiction.
Ashley didn’t know how long she had stood, staring at the relief that had been tooled with such exquisite detail that she could read the expression on each combatants face. Tightly controlled fear, yet defiance as well. They knew their end had come, but were willing to face it on their feet. Fighting until their final moments, never giving in to the terror they surely were feeling. Eventually, Ashley was brought out of her captivation by a wracking cough, which brought on a fit of painful dry repetitions. It seemed to go on forever, and when it ended, she was left wheezing and bent double by the force of it’s passage. She was thirsty in a way she had never been in her life. The lake, on the opposite side of the temple, looked in her weakened and dehydrated state like it was several hundred miles away, though it was surely only half an hour away. Maybe there is water inside. I am here, so it makes sense to at least check.
Limping, hunched around the dull fire that had replaced her lungs, Ashley entered the mammoth archway which lead to a darkened interior. Fumbling at her belt as she entered the abrupt darkness of the interior, Ashley produced her exoflashlight. It wasn’t really suited to the task at hand, designed as it was to provide a bright and narrow beam of light for repairs while in space or the interior of her ship, but it was what she had. The beam cut a swath around the interior, and her aching breath caught in her throat. If the exterior had been beautiful, the interior was astonishing. Everywhere the narrow beam of her flashlight cut through the darkness, she saw more intricate reliefs. Life-sized works of art, depicting every single aspect of their subject covered every inch of the large interior of the tree. The interior itself was one enormous domed room, with no doorways that she could see as she scanned around it’s base. It was huge, easily a hundred yards across, and sloped upwards equally as high, if not higher. The characters depicted seemed to go on and on, filled with creatures of every possible configuration, and some that could hardly be believed. Just as she had the sense that she had been destined for this place, she knew without question that each of the figures covering the interior was based on a live entity.
