While I didn’t grow up in San Antonio, I spent most Friday nights at high school football games. Tucked into my jacket, I kept a paperback handy for the boring parts, otherwise known as all the parts except halftime. Our team was not very good because I recall starting and finishing plenty of volumes while they competed.

Kerouac and Wilde weren’t on my list, but I remember many stories as being bleacher reads. They still evoke the aroma of fall leaves and bonfires. Touring my bookcase, I pulled titles with an indelible link to the gridiron. To Kill a Mockingbird, Animal Farm, The Great Gatsby, Death of a Salesman, 1984, The Catcher in the Rye, Of Mice and Men, Heart of Darkness, and Breakfast at Tiffany’s remind me of homecoming games and referee whistles. A few stories create a visceral reaction, including the Lord of the Flies, Frankenstein, and Macbeth, which I read around Halloween. Who needs scary movies when you have diabolical books, read outside where real shadows creep just below your feet?

Then there is my all-time favorite, Fahrenheit 451. Besides being assigned reading, the teachers treated us to the 1966 film adaptation. They remade the movie a couple of years ago, and I have yet to see it. I enjoyed the old François Truffaut movie and loved the final scene with the book people reciting their memorized novels. Somehow, I don’t want to disturb the poignant ending.

Do some books conjure the place and time when you first met them?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Another new month presents a fresh opportunity to renew my commitment to reaching my objectives. This year has offered many challenges. I admit to feeling steamrolled, flattened, knocked off course, spinning like a weathervane in a tornado — lost. Now October comes roaring in, reminding me the end of 2020 will arrive in ninety days. My carefully crafted agendas with ambitious projects lay in unfulfilled tatters at my feet.

It is astonishing how everything disintegrated. It would be easy to blame global events. But when I am objective, I recognized the real reason, and in my heart, I know how to fix it. I must stop being scared. Life-changing circumstances have left me frozen in fear, unable to move, I became stagnant in working towards my success. My responses descended into freaking out when I didn’t have all the answers to the world’s problems.

Then I understood that it is not my responsibility to have every solution. And I realized the Universe doesn’t care about me. My plans, my hopes, and dreams don’t even register as a blip in the vast cosmos. The only person who cares is me. I am the lone soul capable of completing them. My reward, if I am lucky, maybe to help one person in their struggles.

I am fighting back, refusing to relinquish my desire to reach my 2020 goals. While I have fallen behind, I can still make headway. There are thirty-one chances to advance, thirty-one steps to bring me closer to victory. I dusted off the goal list, checked my progress to date, and identified key areas where I want to focus. I plotted and prepared a schedule for each day in October. It only remains to execute the daily plan.

Have you planned your month?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Each morning a zombie rises, moaning, and groaning it stumbles downstairs to its laboratory. The zombie staggers to the coffeepot. Flailing arms create splashing water, and coffee grounds litter the countertop like confetti on New Year’s Eve. It grumbles and waits, then fills a cup with wake-up juice.

A sip of the black witch’s brew and the transformation begins. My eyelids separate, the world comes into focus, and I see my goals on the horizon.

I consider my options. I could swim, build a boat, rent a wave runner, find a ferry, or book a seat on a private jet. The exact method is whichever one moves me forward, advancing me closer to my goal. I know I must act because I am not content to stand on the shore and dream.

How will you cross the sea?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The practice of creating every day teaches many lessons. Sometimes your sessions are loaded with wonder. You look forward to the writing time, words flow onto the page, and the process seems effortless. Other days you don’t want to sit at your desk, but as you type, the concepts fall into place, and you produce more than you would have imagined. Sometimes despite your best efforts, it is nothing but crap.

Discipline makes you tenacious in your resolve to hit your goal, and you battle through, working, and composing until you attain the target. The chances are, when you analyze those hard-won victories, you discover gems you didn’t recognize as you were writing.

The truth is, even the words you wrote on a good day may need resuscitation. Regardless, there are pages filled with words. Words you can edit. Words you can polish and shine to reflect a story that once only lived in your imagination.

How is your writing discipline developing?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

There is something magical about walking in an autumn wood, and recently, I discovered there is a name for what I have been doing. They call it forest bathing, forest therapy, or Shinrin-Yoku in Japanese. It doesn’t involve actual “bathing,” it is more about “taking in the forest.” They say forest bathing has multiple benefits, including reducing stress, elevating mood, lowering blood pressure, and increasing feelings of connection. Apparently, some doctors are writing prescriptions to take walks, and groups are meeting for guided hikes.

I don’t know if any of those reports are true, but strolling among trees, inhaling the aromas of an herb garden, noticing developing rose hips, I feel the day’s pressures fade away. My focus extends beyond the range of my screen, and I breathe deeper. My steps lighten, and soon, I find I am kicking leaves and smiling like a fool. The best thing about trekking through the woods is, when I get home, the muse finds my fingers and the words flow.

How do you inspire your muse?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Everyone is so serious. Acting mature is a prerequisite if you want to call yourself an adult. We dismiss childish notions, eschew the joy of playing, and abandon a realm of wonder and magic. Instead, we focus on work, maximize our productivity, accept the inevitable side hustle, and concentrate on attaining our goals. Work. Work. Work.

The need to pay bills, cover the rent, and maintain reliable transportation, sets the pace of our days. Desiring independence and self-reliance, we struggle to decode the formula that leads us to success. We embrace philosophy, critical thinking, analytical analysis, and statistical probabilities. We view the world as a machine, a system of cogs, gears, and programing we must decipher and dominate.

The term “magical thinking” is used in a derogatory manner to describe flaws in logic and denotes incorrect thought processes. We eradicate the possibility of chance and deem adults who entertain those ideas as borderline pathological.

Where children acknowledge magic’s existence in everyday events, grownups fail to consider the thought of serendipity entering their life. I think we are better served by allowing a little magic to seep into our days and granting ourselves the freedom to follow its call.

Where will you find magic today?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Is it strange that I like spider webs? I am none too fond of spiders themselves, but the webs they create are often spectacular.  Add misty morning dew reflecting the first gentle rays of sunlight, and you have something straight from a fairy tale. They are like snowflakes, perfect, pristine, and beautiful. If you are foolhardy and attempt to touch them, hold them, they dissolve as if they were a figment of the imagination.

I love Virginia’s perspective and the idea that fiction must have even a tenuous connection to reality. Fiction, at its best, approaches perfection, pristine stories, expressed with beautiful words. They are true figments, with each reader conjuring a version, shaped, and colored by the totality of the reader’s personal experiences. The reader creates a rendition of the story that is unique to them. The insight grants me permission to relax, forget all the rules, and let my imagination consider making the impossible, possible.

How do you attach your stories to reality?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The youngest old person I ever knew was my grandfather. He was a lifelong learner. When his children left home, he started painting and even sold his work. He became a master gardener after he retired and learned how to swim when he turned eighty.

He was big on healthy eating, exercising, vitamin supplements, and the healing benefits of massage and reflexology long before any of that was a thing. Benjamin Franklin’s maxim of early to bed, early to rise, was a practice he adopted. And he read. I remember him saving articles for me and recommending fabulous books to me. One of his favorite authors was Louis L’Amour. The latest acquisitions he stacked next to his chair.

His example touched everyone who met him, and it leaves me inspired to be like him. I have seen people get stuck, who have given up, lost hope, and let their dreams slip away. The light in their eyes fades, and they drift, shuffling through daily activities, aimless, afraid, and beaten.

Life can crush the unwary, and dealing with trials and tribulations test our resolve. Reading exposes us to stories of heroes. Those rare individuals who persevere, triumph over difficulties and forge meaning and joy from whatever circumstances dealt them. In doing so, they maintain their youth and live forever.

How do you stay young?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Keys fascinate me. A bolted door piques my curiosity, and my imagination runs wild creating untold treasures. I concoct amazing stories about the object’s origins, imbue it with symbolism and lore, and develop a seemingly impossible history for how it came to be in the current owner’s possession. I don’t understand the logic of hiding cherished pieces from prying eyes. Shrouded in darkness, sealed tight, the owner prohibits even themselves from enjoying the beauty of their hoarded cache.

People hold deep-seated feelings and valid reasons for bolting their homes or leaving them unlocked. Ironclad defenses prevent theft, some say, while others profess criminals will find an entry by picking a lock or breaking a window. Locks only deter the honest.

Contrary to popular belief, having wide-open doors is not a brazen phenomenon unique to rural homeowners. One thirty-year New York City resident admitted never locking her apartment. Another individual stated they didn’t have a key. Founded or imagined fear is a great motivator.

I treat security a bit casually. I like when friends stop and let themselves in without knocking or ringing a bell. It symbolizes home and conveys trust and love. There is an uplifting joy inherent in sharing with friends and family. That feeling is more important than the possibility of losing precious possessions. You can replace material items.

I feel the same about concealing talents and passions. It makes me sad when someone says, “Oh, I have always wanted to do that, but I can’t.” They have locked away a passion and prevented their authentic inner gifts from shining. They rob themselves of joy and deny everyone the pleasure of connecting with the charm of their genius.

What dreams have you locked away?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Everyone believes leaves change color based on temperatures, but science says chlorophyll production depends on the amount of daylight and photosynthesis. With shorter days, the tree replenishes less chlorophyll, the vibrant green fades, and familiar fall pigments become visible. This weekend, my windshield captured a small yellow leaf, and I realized autumn had arrived.

Asters and chrysanthemums are beginning to bloom, and an evening chill encourages me to search for a warm sweater. According to the lunar calendar, we are in for a special treat. I always note the date of the annual Harvest Moon, the first full moon after the equinox, so I don’t miss it. This year it falls on Thursday, October 1, and sets the stage for a Halloween Blue moon on Saturday, October 31—Halloween night. Doesn’t that sound perfect for Halloween?

It is time to turn off the air conditioning and throw open the windows. My garden begs for pruning and trimming, and I will relish the last fruits I can gather before a frost ruins them. I have scheduled the chimney sweep and ordered a face cord of firewood. Marshmallows wait to be toasted, pumpkins will transform themselves into scary jack-o’-lanterns or tasty pies, and caramel apples compete for attention. Everything urges me to sit at my desk, soak in the inspiration, and write.

Do you look forward to Autumn?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer