This stop on Mark of the Dragon’s tour was special, and a little treat. Bill wrote out a short story depicting a normal day in his life….
When I was asked to share a little bit about my writing life, I have to admit it was hard. I am sure that my writing life is so much like everyone else’s. Aside from the part where I write with my daughter who lives 2,000 miles away and we have to coordinate everything via phone, text and email, I am sure I am just like every other writer.
Despite just being average, I am nothing if not a good sport, so I will share with you some of the typical things that happened to me while writing Mark of the Dragon.
Like I said, I am sure many other authors have had similar experiences, but maybe you will find some small hint into the mind of an average writer. It all begins with ideas. With Mark of the Dragon, we had lots of them. My daughter would choose a scene to write as would I, then we would both start to write. Well, she would start to write. I would think. I would wake up in the morning and think about the characters as I begin my day. Throughout the day I would do whatever it is that a person does. Shower, vacuum the floor, mow the lawn, put up paneling, chase snakes away from the house, you know… the usual stuff. Did I mention I am in the final stages of building our house by myself? That’s probably pretty typical too so I didn’t think to mention it earlier.
Anyway, as the day wears on, I begin to see shadows appear out of the corner of my eye. I’m sure you have all seen them. They appear
and when you look directly at them they disappear. As I walk around thinking, these shadows become more frequent. Sometimes it looks like someone is hiding next to the refrigerator, but when I look, no one is there. It is a bit creepy, but I have gotten used to it as I’m sure you all have too.
I walk past the room where my laptop is and the door opens on its own. I look inside, but no one is there, so I close the door. Throughout the morning I keep passing the door and it is always open so I close it. Finally I just leave it open and walk away.
By noon, the shadows seem to have more solid forms, and I begin to hear whisperings. Nothing loud or clear, almost like wind rustling leaves throughout the house. I listen closely, but the whispers become silence and so I go about my day. By two o’clock I can make out faces in the shadows. They aren’t smiling and they watch me. They still move away if I look directly at them, but they are there, I know it.
The whispers become incessant by the time supper is ready. The faces have become frowns and I begin to recognize them. Terrax,
Andra, Regina… they are all there. Everyone from Mark of the Dragon is watching me, and they aren’t happy. I eat my meal is silence, hoping they will go away, but they get closer and closer. Now when I look their way, they become thin like ghosts, but they stay. They won’t go away anymore. I help to load the dishwasher after dinner and when I put the plate into the dishwasher, Regina grabs at my hand and the icy feeling makes me drop the plate.
I make an excuse to my wife and run to the bathroom to hide, but they are all there with me. They won’t leave me alone. Their whispers are now so loud I can make out words. I can’t make out sentences, just words jumping at me from every direction. Trying to get away from the voices, I run downstairs and see the open doorway again. I hesitate and hear screaming behind me so I run into my room and close the door behind me. The door starts to thump as if someone is trying to break in. In a panic, I turn on my laptop and sit down just as the door swings open and the shadows enter the room. I try to focus on my laptop as the shadows swirl about me with menacing looks.
I start to type and the shadows become still and the whispers almost silent as a heavy anticipation fills the room. I stop and look up and the shadow begin flying around the room again and my head fills with sound so I return to my laptop and start typing. The shadows still and silence returns, but I can still feel the anticipation. I don’t look up this time and just keep typing, hoping they will keep still.
Slowly, as the words fill up the screen in front of me the shadows start to melt away. Finally, with exhausted fingers and a major cramp in my neck, I look around and they are all gone. The clock on the wall says that it is four o’clock in the morning, but I feel better. I slowly climb back up stairs and find my way to bed so I can get up in a few hours to start it all over again.
Like I said. I am just a typical writer and I’m sure everyone has days like that. Nothing unusual, but maybe there was something you found worth the time it took to read it.
M.R. Polish was born in Idaho, a long, long, long, well, maybe not that long time ago…. Writing has always been there for her. Growing up, her mind was filled with stories, some she shared and others she filed away to write down later in life. It wasn’t until 2011 that she decided to publish her stories for everyone to enjoy. Her first award, and when writing became more than just an idea, was in the 5th grade. She won the scary story contest for the school newspaper. It is one story she still has tucked away for memories. Her teacher told her she could be anything she wanted and that she had a talent for writing, being creative and drawing people into her stories. M.R. took that to heart and continued to write, although mostly in secret until recent years.Now you can find her enjoying life with her family – wrangling her four kids, setting traps in the house with toys for unsuspecting victims (aka, her husband) and writing down all her crazy and fun stories.
short to stand by and watch everyone else live your dreams. The bigger the
dream, the bigger the adventure!” ~ M.R. Polish
Bill Morgan is M.R.’s dad, and if she was born that long ago, You all should shudder at how long ago he was born. He has always been creative. As an amateur artist and an avid woodworker, he always could see the hidden beauty in a blank piece of paper or a piece of wood. He joined the U.S. Coast Guard in 1986 and spent twenty years saving lives and serving his country. He always had stories running around in his head, but he never tried to put them onto paper until M.R. convinced him to do this book with her. Now he is actively writing two additional sci-fi/fantasy novels. Hopefully she hasn’t created a monster. Bill’s favorite thing is his family. He has a wonderful wife, two adult daughters, four sisters, and more wonderful nieces and nephews than you can believe. His last count was over one hundred and he loves them all. One of his favorite quotes comes from a movie, but it applies to writing a fictional novel as well: