It’s Saturday afternoon and I am at my son’s home. The littlest is down for his nap and number two is playing quietly. The eldest of the three has gone out for an afternoon of snowboarding on a local hill. It has been five months since I have been here. Just twenty-four hours after arriving, and I am almost exhausted by the non-stop activity with them. This is my first bit of quiet time since arriving. Do to a number of reasons, I am here to help out with childcare, a valid reason during this time of the Covid19 Pandemic. I imagine I will be here for a good week before I return to my little house on the prairies.
Before I left, I took a photo in anticipation that I wouldn’t be taking one for a number of days while away from home. Does it have a purpose for this post? Not really. It simply captured a moment in time while the sun was shining and the temperature drew me to go outside au naturel. It was an impulse, or perhaps an inspiration. Moments after taking the photo, I returned to continue writing my latest work-in-progress, a story that has a working title called Bruce and the Black Irish Woman.
I had originally started this story late last spring. However, after about three thousand words, I abandoned the story as I got caught up in a novella about the pandemic. I had barely finished that novella when it was time to take part in NaNoWriMo last December. That was followed by my eldest grandson asking when I would finish writing “his” story with him as the protagonist. Near the end of February, the first draft of that novel was completed. I then sent out that story to a few beta readers for comments before I turn to doing the first round of editing. Finally, I found myself returning to the story of Bruce.
The story has Bruce as a Jungian psychotherapist. The idea was to create a realistic male who works in the field of mental-health therapy. I had zero intention of turning it into speculative fiction. However, good intentions didn’t matter. The story was progressing fine with just the right amount of psychological depth. I was hoping to talk about a man’s inner anima, the source of libido and life force. Then, a few days ago, three figures from Turkish mythology were mentioned though not necessarily as two gods and a goddess. No sooner had I written the scene when Twitter announced that I had a new follower. I went to check out who it was [I often cull unwanted followers who are looking for porn] and saw that I had a poet knocking at the door. The poet was from Turkey. It was a synchronous moment.
I have put the first chapter on Wattpad as a free read. I will be posting a number of chapters from the book up at Wattpad. I invite all of you to read the story as it grows and offer comments of encouragement on the site. If you like the story, please click on the star [Vote] to let me and others know that the story is worth reading. Of course, this story is in its unedited form. Hopefully, enough people will like it, thus encouraging me to make the effort to turn it into a full book. The book isn’t Naturist Fiction. However, the human psyche or soul is completely bared. I am currently writing Chapter Seven, and I am intrigued with what is appearing. This is definitely something different.