avsongbird vlog #20- the state of things in the songbird nest

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHb1jopbRqY

Going back- a drabble from my blog by avsongbird

"To Be Understood"- a drabble/free-write from my blog read audiobook style on my youtube channel

Sounding Boards and Audio-books

               Every writer-- whether you're a poet, lyricist, novelist, short story writer, napkin scribbler, blogger, or any combination of the above-- needs a reliable sounding board-- someone you can read your work to who will listen with an open mind, and give you their opinion. Someone who will ask the questions that need to be asked, and give you a fresh view of your work, so that you can then head back into your writing nook and correct whatever mistakes you've made.

               For me, that person has always been my mother. And ironically, it's been especially true for the last six years. Since she and I now find ourselves living over 1000 miles apart, that means a lot of late night Skype and cell phone calls (apparently being a night owl runs in my family). 

               I can't stress enough the need for a good sounding board. It's one thing for you to think your work is half-way decent or for you to be pleased with yourself-- that will only take you so far. To push yourself to keep reaching, to keep improving, you really need someone else to give you a different viewpoint. I've lost count of the number of times I've read something to her and had her come back with a viewpoint I hadn't thought of-- some of them changed the story completely.

               I just got off the phone with her a little while ago-- went into the kitchen to pop myself a massive bowl of popcorn and pour myself a bathtub-sized cup of coffee before I came into my room to curl up with my laptop, ready to get to work for the night.

               My mother is an incredibly intelligent woman, but in the household I grew up in, where my step-dad is a hardcore reader, my younger brother is a reader, I'm an even harder-core reader, my mother (though a speed-reader like you wouldn't believe) has never counted herself as much of a reader.

               Granted, when she does pick up a story that catches her interest, she can speed through it like nobody's business. I always counted myself lucky that I'm much the same way in that respect.

               A few weeks back, we were in the middle of me reading something or other to her (as many projects as I've got in the works at the moment, I can't remember which one it was at the time), she told me that my writing is one of the few exceptions to that rule. I only knew that there's times she'll call me out of the blue, always asking first if I'm busy (I always say I'm not, whether I am or not. She's my mom, after all.).

               Then, she asks me to read to her. When I ask her what she'd like to hear, she always answers "Whatever you're working on."

               So I read to her. My poetry, my lyrics, my one-shot drabbles, my epics, and she listens, sometimes asking questions, sometimes offering an opinion on my work, sharing memories and stories of her life that whatever I'm working on might have brought to mind.

               I called her up today and I asked her if she'd seen the video I made for her last night (technically I think it was sometime around 5 this morning when I finally finished editing and posting it), and she pulled it up and watched it.

               She asked me if I'd send her a copy of the video, so I did, just as I sent the mp3 of me singing "Amazing Grace" to her a few days before (I played my singing as the background music for the video I made for her).

               Then, she asked me if I wouldn't mind sending her other recordings-- if I wouldn't mind recording me reading my writing and sending it to her in audio format, and I have to admit, I'd never thought of doing such a thing before. Then again, I've been doing a lot of things lately I never thought of doing, so I thought about it, and I figured sure, why not?  

               I was nervous about making the blog, and now it's starting to feel more comfortable, I was nervous about making vlogs, and now I'm looking forward to it, same with singing in public, and now, I've got two vids on my channel of me doing just that.

               I guess what I'm wanting to ask you guys is-- is that something you guys would be interested in? I know people read audio-books when they're busy, or don't feel like reading, that some people find it more soothing and relaxing to hear the words spoken instead. Are my works something you guys would like to hear in an audio format, if I find a way to post them in such a format, or do you find the idea of my voice akin to something like nails on a chalkboard?

               If this ends up being an idea that people are interested in, I can start looking into it. But if you'd rather just read my words, or if you don't find my voice suitable for the task, then at least I can say I made the effort to try something different, which is something I'm trying to do more and more in my everyday life.

               As always, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my blog. I appreciate each and every one of you who let me into your lives for a moment at a time, and I hope you have a great night/morning.

--Jen K. 

To Be Understood

               Sometimes, you just want to be understood. You don't want to explain... you don't want to pretend... or lie... You don't want to have to make excuses.

               You just want to be. And you want that to be enough.

               That's all I've ever wanted in my life. It's a human thought, isn't it? To want to know that just being you, with your faults, your shortcomings, with your joys, your passions...

               To want to know, for one brief moment in time that you... are enough.

                I've always taken people as they were. I love watching the masks fall away, watching the lies fall by the wayside, and watching people become who they are.

               I love them for their scars, and the tales they can tell. For the battles they've won, the hardships they've faced, and survived. The people and the past-times they've fallen in love with.

               I love them as they come. And I've always hoped they realized that I always did what I could to love them as they were-- that I truly wanted to understand them as they were.

               I always wished I knew what it felt like to be understood. To be loved and understood and accepted for who and what I was.

               But then how can I hope to find such things, when at times I find I don't even know myself?

               But how many of us can claim to truly know who we are, or why we do the things we do?

               I've always thought it was my job to dig deeper into human nature. To understand what drives us to do the things we do. Why we love the things we love, why we hate the things we hate, why we fear the things we fear. What kind of a writer could I be without knowing the nature of those I create my stories for? How can I hope to reach up through those pages and touch the hearts and souls of others if I cannot begin to know what they care about?

               I want to pen the words that reach into your heart. I want to find the words to tear you open and make you look deep inside yourself. I want to open your eyes and your heart to the things that drive you, to the passion that burns deep within you.

               I want to force you to face your deepest fears.

               I want to move you, to awaken you unto this world, and unto yourself. Then I want you to do the same to others, who in turn, can do the same.

               I want to brighten your day. I want to make you smile. I want to bring tears to your eyes and make your heart ache in your chest.

               I want to remind you what it is to truly feel, as you were always meant to feel. Love, hate, horror, passion, strife, heartache.

               I want to make you realize what it is to be understood as you are, what drives you, what scares you, what touches you, what stirs your passions.

               I want to awaken you unto yourself. To show you what it is, to truly understand this world, this life such as it is.

               I hope to awaken you to yourself, if I can. And as I find bits and pieces of my soul buried within those pages, in my quest to share the worlds inside my head with all of you, as I read back over them and find myself hidden within them, perhaps one day I will find myself made whole by my efforts, and at last, I will find the understanding I've always hoped for.

Memories of the meadow

              I can still remember the warm, rich smell of the tall grass in the late spring, and feeling the heat in the air hinting at the fact that summer was right around the corner. I can still remember the feeling of the late afternoon sun shining down on my upturned face, and the warm presence of the blanket against the backs of my knees, and the lengths of my calves.

               I can still remember turning my head to watch his chest rising and falling in that peaceful rhythm as he slept on beside me, and the way his full lashes curled over his closed eyes.

               I could have lain there forever, just watching him dream, feeling peaceful and content and safe and loved as I'd never before felt in all my years on this good earth.

               I never knew what love was before our paths crossed in the woods that day. Was it only a few months ago? It seems a lifetime ago now since then. Days of laughter, days of tears.

               It was another life, for both of us. And knowing now that such peace, such love, such joy could exist, I wouldn't trade a single hardship or sacrifice that I faced in my previous life-- in any of the previous lives I'd led-- knowing that they led me to that meadow, and to the one who shared in such sacred and precious days with me. 

               In times of darkness, in times of fear, and doubt, and dread, I remember the days we spent together in the tall grass, laughing and talking, with no thought but to love one another, to enjoy the time we'd been granted to be together for however long it would last. I always feel myself renewed by such memories of the love and life I found in those precious days, of innocence and happiness and tenderness, and I carry on with my soul strengthened, renewed by such tender memories of young love.

*********

 I you liked this excerpt, and would like to hear more of the story, and learn more about the characters, and the sort of lives they led, and the roads that led them here, please, feel free to comment or share this with others, and drop me a line to let me know. 

I look forward to sharing stories with you in the future-- stories of romance, adventure, mystery, humor, and horror.