Interview with Thoth, God of Lit. ~~ by Raymond St. Elmo

Interview with Thoth, God of Lit. ~~ by Raymond St. Elmo

Took ages to find him. I’d ask at writer’s conferences, libraries, weird old book-stores. Searched online. Most said Thoth quit, he’d died, never existed. Or sold out to Amazon, was running a bed-and-breakfast in Thebes. I gave up. One more god crossed off the list.

Then at a bus stop I notice this bag lady reading ‘The Egyptian Book of the Dead’. I don’t usually talk to strangers, but that book? It’s like the first fantasy novel game-manual. We chatted, she dropped a few crazy hints, then trundled her shopping cart away. The wheels squeaked like harpies giggling.

So I found the god of writing. In New York, in the alley back of the Random House offices. I don’t think that was irony. The spot happened to be sheltered from the wind, with a good steam-vent and dumpsters stuffed with slush-pile rejects you could read or toss into the trash-barrel flames. Pretty sure one of those manuscripts was mine. I always print my submissions on ivory paper; expensive but gives the MSS an old-scroll feel. Not that editors even send a reject email. Snobs.

Thoth was a tall guy in a couple of coats, a ragged hoody, long beak of a nose sticking out. He wasn’t alone. Fellow homeless stood around, warming hands, debating the worth of what they found in random pages of manuscripts before tossing them to the fire. A lady wearing ten sweaters hummed in Greek; she might have been Thalia, Muse of Poetry. But mortal or deity, we stood together staring into the flames, listening to city sounds: sirens and cars, trains, planes and the eternal wind.

At length I asked Thoth: how did it all begin? Not what was the first story; but why had some lunatic made up that first tale? He took his time answering. As the gods do, when they answer at all. At last he spoke, in whisper low and sing-song as the wind.

“It began just like this. A circle of lonely eyes staring into flames. Hunger in the belly, fears for the dark beyond firelight’s edge. A circle of survivors who saw no story in life but this: eat till you are eaten. And then, and then… some conjunction of thought and sound and heartbeat came. I remember far-off a wolf howled, while fire-wood shifted, sending sparks to the stars. And a sick child coughed. And some man or woman began talking to the flames. Someone who felt suddenly filled with wonder, yet drowning in worry. Wonder for the joy that is this life, and worry for the sick child. Who’d feed them, fend away the wild dogs? And when it became their own turn to be sick, to fall behind in the hunt? What then?

“And so the first story came. Words out the mouth. With plenty of hand gestures, I recall. I forget the tale itself. Some tangle about a forest, a spear and a monster that could only be defeated by a tribe working together. A hunter, a farmer, a pot-maker, and a funny dog who kept stealing the scenes. A mess that needed blessing from the Muse of Editing. It seemed an absurd waste of breath to those practical survivors about the fire. And yet… the idea stuck. Caught, as fire does. They had a vision of a united tribe, caring for one another. Life as a tale finding meaning not in surviving, but in helping to live.

“You ask what was the seed of that first tale? Caring. At least concern. But give credit to the dancing flames, the circling dark and the wolf-howl wind. Most of all to the heart’s cry that life must be more than sparks rising, vanishing, gone.”

I stood there silent, weighing Thoth’s words. Not the first time someone has claimed the origin of storytelling is in the heart’s tangles, not the brain’s wrinkles. Nor that the highest stories turn our heads from the pages, to look at one another with new eyes, with opened minds. Bit old fashioned, I suppose. I’d expected something more grim-dark, but perhaps that’s a style for a darker age.

I was just about to ask the God of Literature if he’d review my new work-in-progress but the cops came, blowing whistles. They put out the trash-barrel fire. Arrested the Muse for being an illegal, confiscated my manuscript though I explained it hadn’t even had a chance to be tossed to the trash yet. My third tazing over a review this year. The rest scattered. Haven’t seen Thoth since.

But I like to think he has a high opinion of the One Million Project.


OMP Admin Note: Raymond St. Elmo is a computer programmer living in Texas. A degree in Spanish Literature gave him a love of magic realism. A fascination with artificial intelligence gave him a job. His books tend to be first-person fantastical accounts with frequent references to William Blake, Borges and PKD.


Our short story anthologies written by over 100 writers have been recently published (links below) with all proceeds being donated to the charity organizations our group supports.

If you are a Kindle Unlimited member, you can read the complete anthology for FREE, and KU proceeds are donated along with the proceeds from the sale of our anthologies.

Our volunteer authors love to see reviews, and every review helps to make the One Million Project’s books more visible to Amazon customers, assisting us in our mission to raise One Million Pounds / Dollars for EMMAUS Homeless Programs and Cancer Research UK.

LINKS

myBook.to/OMPThriller

myBook.to/OMPFantasy

myBook.to/OMPFiction

myBook.to/OMPVarietyAnthology

A Writer’s Wish List ~~ by John Nedwill

A Writer’s Wish List ~~ by John Nedwill

“Ho ho ho ho, little boy! And what’s your name?”

“John. John Nedwill, Santa, sir.”

“Hmm. Let me just check my list. Ah – there you are! I see there are some black marks against your name – “

“Oh.”

“- But there are also some good marks. Enough to put you on the ‘nice’ half of my list. So, what would you like for Christmas, John?”

“Ooh – I’ve got my list here. Can we go through it?”

“It looks like a long list, and you haven’t been that nice. But, we’ll see what we can do.”

“Alright. First of all, I’d like a new pen – one with a nice, broad nib that makes my handwriting look neat.”

“That’s a worthy thing for a writer. Go on.”

“And then I’d like some ink. Some really black ink.”

“That will be for the pen? Would you prefer cartridges or a bottle?”

“Bottle please. I’l like a notebook as well. One with good paper that the ink won’t bleed through.”

“Of course. But don’t you want a new tablet or a shiny new laptop? Lots of writers want one of those.”

“Never for first drafts. Next … Some whiskey please.”

“With an ‘e’, I note. You can have it, but only if you can prove you’re over twenty-one.”

“Are you kidding? My beard’s almost as bushy and as white as yours. And could I have some inspiration as well?”

“Hmm. I might have some lying around. But you’ll have to wait for it.”

“Last thing on my list – could you get me an agent? Please?”

“Ho ho ho – no! Remember what I said about only being so good?”

“Maybe next year, then?”

“Maybe. Now, off you go John. Merry Christmas!”

“Thank you, Santa! Merry Christmas to you!”

“Now, who’s next?”


OMP Admin Note: John Nedwill is a writer, OMP Network member, and a regular #OneMillionProject Blogger. His work can be found on Wattpad.com and in the One Million Project’s Short Story Anthologies published in February 2018.


Our short story anthologies written by over 100 writers have been recently published (links below) with all proceeds being donated to the charity organizations our group supports.

If you are a Kindle Unlimited member, you can read the complete anthology for FREE, and KU proceeds are donated along with the proceeds from the sale of our anthologies.

Our volunteer authors love to see reviews, and every review helps to make the One Million Project’s books more visible to Amazon customers, assisting us in our mission to raise One Million Pounds / Dollars for EMMAUS Homeless Programs and Cancer Research UK.

LINKS

myBook.to/OMPThriller

myBook.to/OMPFantasy

myBook.to/OMPFiction

myBook.to/OMPVarietyAnthology

Dancing with Daffodils ~~ by #OMP writer Christine Larsen

Dancing with Daffodils ~~ by #OMP writer Christine Larsen

My family history reveals quite a few deaths by various cancers over a span of four or more generations.

This could strike fear into many present-day hearts – or at the least, cause more than a little disquiet – a sharpened intake of breath – perhaps an unexpected thudding in the chest. However… unless scientific research proves the opposite to current thinking, these cancers are unrelated and carry no sinister genetic ramifications for me and mine. No more chance of that dreaded diagnosis than 138,000 other Australians estimated to hear the devastating news this year.

This was reason enough for me to tuck any doubts way back into one of the dark recesses of my ‘think-tank’. UNTIL… the deaths of several dear friends, my father-in-law in 1985 and my Mother in 1999, changed all previous odds and thinking.

What could possibly lighten the burden of this bringer of darkness to the soul – this cruel destroyer? And pondered some before realising the answer was already right in front of us – DAFFODIL DAY.

The Cancer Council Australia began in 1961, expanded nation-wide in 1997, and adopted the glorious Daffodil as their emblem to raise awareness and produce messages and merchandise to raise money for Cancer research, education, support – and inspiring care and renewed hope in the hearts of victims AND their families.

Apart from its obvious beauty, we wondered why the choice of the Daffodil. Here are the actual words from the Cancer Council –

The Daffodil was chosen because of its reputation as a hardy annual flower; pushing its way through the frozen earth after a long winter to herald the return of spring, new life, vitality and growth. As one of the first flowers of spring, the Daffodil symbolises rebirth and new beginnings. To Cancer Council, and many affected by cancer, the Daffodil represents hope for a cancer-free future.

AND then the Cancer Council divulged that recent research revealed a natural extract from Daffodils holds cancer-killing properties – a concentration that could trigger cancer cell death.  Imagine… all that wrapped in a supremely beautiful parcel.

Our individual way to observe and salute this emblem of hope and renewal took place at our two mothers’ funerals. Each had died a year apart in August. We held each funeral on Daffodil Day and requested donations to the Cancer Council in lieu of flowers – despite which some dear souls gave both.

What we gave, apart from a wondrously huge wreath of mainly roses on each coffin, were dozens of daffodils on their proud, long stems for each of the mourners to set into those great wreaths. In the shortest time, the final resting places of our darlings were transformed into a blaze of golden joy – a wonderful symbol of all they gave to every life they touched, bringing countless smiles to shine through the tears.

As William Wordsworth wrote –

‘And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the Daffodils.’

On Daffodil Day – and any other day when your heart is over-burdened with grief and loss, maybe these beautiful thoughts can help –

To lose someone you love is to alter your life forever…

The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes…

This hole in your heart is the shape of the one you lost – no one else can fit it.

~ Jeanette Winterson


OMP Admin Note:  Christine Larsen is a writer, farmer, wife, mother, and grandmother from Australia. She has never been homeless or had significant cancer – yet – but has had exposure to both – creating a great sense of empathy and desire to help in any way she can. She is humbled by the opportunity to give one of her stories to the sincerely worthwhile causes of Cancer research and Homelessness.

To find out more about Christine Larsen, Author, and her work:  IMG_7208

ceedee moodling  (Christine’s website)

 – on Wattpad

–  on Facebook

– on Tablo

– on Amazon

Old McLarsen had some Farms (farming memoirs)

ceedee4kids (Christine’s children’s book site)


Our short story anthologies written by over 100 writers have been recently published (links below) with all proceeds being donated to the charity organizations our group supports.

If you are a Kindle Unlimited member, you can read the complete anthology for FREE, and KU proceeds are donated along with the proceeds from the sale of our anthologies.

Our volunteer authors love to see reviews, and every review helps to make the One Million Project’s books more visible to Amazon customers, assisting us in our mission to raise One Million Pounds / Dollars for EMMAUS Homeless Programs and Cancer Research UK.

LINKS

myBook.to/OMPThriller

myBook.to/OMPFantasy

myBook.to/OMPFiction

myBook.to/OMPVarietyAnthology

Educational Inferiority Complex by Emma Thomson

On the news segments, we regularly see those victory despite adversity stories. The latest story was regarding those achieving high A level results despite her brother having been one of those that lost their lives in the Manchester bombings. There have been similar stories throughout the years of Cancer survivors obtaining high grades and all other kinds of physical disabilities. This article isn’t written to discredit those individuals. They’ve worked hard and deserve the praise and recognition that these news stories have given them. On the other hand, if you happen to be from a background or have a disability that isn’t widely understood, then, more often than not, you do not receive the support to be successful and achieve your highest potential.

I am going to focus on behavioural issues in this article. I am an adult diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome and have been suspected of PDA (a part of the Autistic Spectrum which the public do not understand). There is a wide belief within society that those of us with behavioural conditions have the help available to us which we need in our everyday life. Sadly, this isn’t true. There may be help out there, but it is far from appropriate and, in most cases, not helpful to the conditions whatsoever. Most of the ‘so-called’ help is punishment based. This isn’t constructive with someone who has a behavioural issue. Recently, research has released the shocking finding that those on the Autistic Spectrum are one of the most likely groups to take their own lives. There are those on the spectrum who are successful, but for each of them, there are most likely hundreds across the UK alone, which are not able to have satisfying full lives because they aren’t given adequate support for their Autism.

 

This year I tried to take my own life because of literally having everyone and everywhere I went turn their back on me and, alongside that, I had a legal case for harassment (caused my lack of support and mishandling of my case) active against me. There was no attempt to work with my ASC traits. I was given a restraining order, which I broke and I even told the court I couldn’t stick to it when they made it. That was made indefinite, so I felt like I’ve been given a life sentence. That will always keep my record current. I was labeled a criminal as soon as I reached adulthood. I wasn’t diagnosed until 16. This has resulted in me never being able to gain employment and my baby son being removed from me, then placed for adoption. I do not feel that it is fair to label those with behavioural or intellectual conditions in a negative way. There has never been any attempt to meet me half way in regards to supporting me and attempting to understand my condition.

 

In all honesty, most of the education I’ve managed to get has been purely down to my sheer determination. I have got very little support. I get asked to leave places (eg. Colleges and Universities) before others have the chance to get to know me. This is due to the label that has been placed on me for my disability problems. I’ve had to save up and pay for some of the qualifications that I need to study Psychology at degree level. I was completely failed by school. I’ve had to go back as an adult to GCSEs. I’m still behind because I do not have A Levels. I get extremely disheartened because I feel left out of life. Those like myself will never get the stories giving us praise and recognition because everyone assumes that behaviour problems are a choice. It is certainly not a choice. I wish that it was because it would be possible for me to lose my issues like people seem to think they can demand by clicking their fingers and threatening me with punishment or sanctions if I can’t do it. I just want society to see that they certainly aren’t a choice. I just wanted love and acceptance. The things that have been done to me have triggered my problems to get worse because I wasn’t getting that. Instead, all my care plans have been completely inappropriate and made me feel like I was being treated unfavourably, placed below other people. This needs to change before it causes many other suicides or other negative situations that can be avoided by changing how behaviour problems are seen by professionals and managed.


OMP Admin Note:  Emma Thomson is a guest blogger for the #OneMillionProject.  Her writing is straightforward and enlightening as she offers insight into her life.  Emma was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome, undiagnosed but suspected of PDA and some form of Personality Disorder. She was born in the Midlands on the week of the hurricane of 1987.  She has her own blog where she reveals the everyday struggles of living with Asperger Syndrome.

Link to blog: https://diaryofapainfullyshyinterovert.wordpress.com/