See Me

I have no good excuse. It’s been way over a year since I posted on here. A lot has happened with my writing, but I didn’t tell you about it. I’m sorry. Let me give you the main highlights of my absence.

My novel, Bring Me to Life, is still on Amazon and I’ve been experimenting with marketing so readers will find it and hopefully enjoy it. Marketing has been harder than I thought. I’m halfway through editing the sequel called Gia. I plan to have that out by the fall. Fingers crossed.

I participated in NaNoWriMo last November and I completed a fun, romantic paranormal story called Halloween Eve. I’m looking forward to working on the second draft of that one.

I’ve been dabbling in social media and doing a lot of reading and research about writing and marketing. It’s been an education. I’ve met a lot of amazing writers and artists who have been sweet and supportive. They have kept me moving forward when I wanted to give up.

I decided to sift through all my poems and I chose twenty-five to create my new poetry collection called See Me. It took time and more than a little courage to publish it on Amazon, but I did! I smile when I visit my author page and see not one, but two books available for purchase.

I also started an author site/blog called The Second Chance Writer. I would love for you to check it out and follow me there. Let me know what you think. The  link is https://patriciakirschauthor.com

And please check out my new poetry collection. I’d love to know what you think and I priced it easy at 99c.

Thank you for reading and for your support. I wish you the best with your creative endeavors. 🙂

 

You’re invited to read and see me for the flawed, but hopeful person I am. The person maybe we all are.

1seeme
https://www.amzn.com/dp/B07RG7JDPQ

 

Bring Me to Life

So here it is–I finally released my first novel on Amazon. It’s been a long, scary journey and scarier now that it’s real. I’m happy, relieved and proud that I finally found the courage to do it. I’ve always found joy in writing. I’ve written six novels in the last six years. I’ve written poetry and short pieces on this site and I’ve dabbled on Wattpad. But self-publishing on Amazon is my chance to truly become a part of the publishing world. I hope my followers have enjoyed what I’ve released here, and I hope they’ll check out my debut novel.

I will continue to post here and I’ll always remember that, no matter what happens on Amazon, I’m always a loyal writer. Thank you for reading.

Here’s the Amazon link:  https://www.amazon.com/author/patriciakirsch

novel

Cry-Baby Bridge

 

crybabyhead_01

OK, I’ve been working on editing, proofreading, organizing–everything but actual writing. I have two stories in a series and it’s time to begin a third one. The first two need the editing etc., but I can’t stop there. I still need to write. The third one has been waiting in my mind for a long time and I’ve been piecing it together.

Getting those first few pages down is always challenging for me. I’m a bit of a perfectionist and want it to sound good the first time. Of course that’s ridiculous. I also need deadlines or I’ll wander. It’s not NaNoWriMo time, but I’m not going to wait until November to write this story. I’m going to take thirty days now and write it. Whatever comes out, I’ll work with. I just need to get it out of my head and on paper. What if I don’t like it? That’s what the editing is for.

A couple of years ago, I began a story surrounding a local legend here in Maryland. The legend is called Cry-Baby Bridge and is based on the story about a teenage girl who threw her baby into the water under a bridge in order to avoid the condemnation of her religious parents. Legend says if you visit this bridge at night, you may hear the murdered baby’s cries. I urge you to read about this spooky old legend–and visit the bridge if you dare.

I never finished my story, didn’t get halfway through it, but decided to use the legend in a new story, the third one in my series. I’ll see how this one turns out.

In the meantime, I’m going to post the beginning of my unfinished story I titled, “When the Baby Cries.”

***

I have twenty minutes to take pictures, watch the water flow in the creek, get creeped out again and make it back to work. Maybe I’m crazy to keep coming to Cry-Baby Bridge, hoping I’ll see something or feel something. I have no idea what. I do know that I’ve been obsessed with this bridge and its legend since I first heard about it when I was about ten.

I put on my sunglasses, adjust my brown cowboy hat and reach into my bag for my camera.

“It’s not a good idea to take pictures in the afternoon sun.”

My heart kicks up, I nearly drop my camera and look around. A young guy in jeans and a dark blue T-shirt is walking toward me. “Hi,” I say as he stops a few feet away from me.

“Hey,” he says and smiles. His smile is friendly. Nice, white teeth. Tanned, clean shaven face. 

I hold up my camera. “I was going to take some pictures. Interesting area,” I say.

He nods and finally breaks eye contact to look at the creek. “It is.” He turns back and holds out his hand. “I’m Sean.”

“Della,” I say. He has strong, big hands and I let my eyes wander to his chest and arms.

“Nice to meet you. So like I said, you can’t get good pictures in the sun like this.”

“I’ve taken lots of pictures in the afternoon and they turn out great,” I say.

Sean laughs. “I have three sisters. You’d think I’d know better than to argue with a  woman.”

I smile. His laugh is contagious and I find him adorable and refreshing. I glance at my watch and drop the camera into my bag. “I gotta go,” I say and start to walk off.

“Wait,” he says.

I turn around and he hands me a business card. “I don’t meet many women like you,” he says. “Call me sometime.”

I stand there with his card in my hand and watch him walk up the street. Why do I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck? 

Story Songs

notes

I’ve participated and won three NaNoWriMo competitions. National November Writing Month challenges you to write at least 50,000 words during the month of November. It’s challenging and takes discipline and focus. Each of my stories had its own set of challenges. The first one is about 51,000 words but remains unfinished. For some reason, I can’t come up with a proper, satisfying ending. I wrote my second one when I was so sick that I barely remember writing it, but I’m proud to say I finished it and am currently in the editing process. My third one is a sequel of sorts and was challenging because my husband dared me to include paranormal elements, which is out of my usual comfort zone.

Writing is often lonely and staring at a blank page is intimidating, especially when you don’t know where you’re going with your story–and even harder when you only have thirty days to finish it! (NaNoWriMo)

Inspiration is necessary and can take many forms.

Music has always inspired me and I’ve been choosing theme songs for my stories since I was a teenager. Back in the 80’s, I loved romance and chose songs like “I can dream about you” by Dan Hartman or the sexy “Lovin’ every minute of it” by Loverboy, to accompany my characters in their love story. Songs continue to inspire me and I often listen to my theme song before I begin writing for the day.

I know I’m not alone here. Writers, do you use music to inspire and motivate you? Isn’t it fun when a song directly connects to your story or character? Are there other NaNoWriMo participants and winners? I would love to hear from you.

Here is a list of a few songs that inspired my last few stories:

“Gone Away” by The Offspring

“For once in my life” by Stevie Wonder

“Bring me to Life” by Evanescence

“Living Dead Girl” by Rob Zombie

“Your Love” by The Outfield

What songs are on your list?

 

Spirit Path

I love poetry in all its forms but I usually write free verse. However, back in college, I took a poetry class and learned many different forms, many of which were fun but challenging.

The one I had the most fun with is called a sestina. This form follows a set pattern using the same six words in six stanzas with six lines and a final triplet which uses all six words. Confused? Once you see the pattern and follow it, it’s not so bad. I encourage you to look up the sestina and try one and if you do, let me know. I’d love to read it.

Here’s one of mine. I wrote it at a time when historical romance novels were wildly popular and shaped my dreams for magical love 🙂

 

Spirit Path

A murder of crows danced around the fire.

My body shook in time with the drums,

white and black smoke swam near the path.

Bathed in bronze and praying in the rain

he held me captive, my heart aching to

touch his soul. My destiny, my hero

 

 

 chanted with the  rhythm of nature’s hero.

His calloused hands flexed toward the fire

his naked chest magnetic in its power. I cried out to

reach his attention, break the spell of his drums.

He turned toward me, pained eyes like winter rain,

pleading me to guide him on his path.

 

But how could I help him travel his spirit path?

I longed to help my ageless hero

my skin tingled at the thought. The spirited rain

ceased falling, his proud face glimmered in the undying fire.

Like a panther he moved to the beat of his drums

ba-boom, ba-boom, waiting with perfect patience for me to

 

move closer. Throbbing legs tried to

seek him out. There stood a mountainous distance, a path

between us uneasily traveled. The enchanting drums

grew louder, the crows grew restless, there danced my hero.

I cried to the crows for pleasure, they dove into the fire

and I began to sing a spirit song to the warm tulip rain.

 

My legs moved sensually, my voice chanted to the rain.

I lifted my arms. The two

of us together and ages apart, the fire-

light pointed the way to his coveted path.

He halted his dance, the crows surrounded their hero,

all of nature parted for his entrance, the drums

 

still played, led him on his way. Those ancient drums

prayed for him. I would never again taste the rain

without wishing I was captured in time with my hero,

my destiny that escaped because I appeared too

late. Instead, he remained in his world, his path

that made him a spirit as bright as the flames of his fire.

 

Every time I hear drums and feel the rain

I remember my hero and wonder how he lives to

day, traveling his spirit path and dancing near the fire.

 

–Patricia Kirsch

fuego-de-vida-285x300

We tried

I’m not for you.

All we have is the

desire to fight,

to prove that our

stubborn love

is real.

But we can’t  take

this thing

and keep going.

We can’t pretend,

we can’t hide

and we can’t go back.

Let’s be honest,

we’ll laugh, we’ll cry

we’ll know that we

can’t survive

but we’ll always know

that we tried.

Stale

Lying in the makeshift bed

in the little flowered room,

I smell the aroma of her

morning bread.

I’m not alone

but I feel alone

with my angry older

brother on the opposite wall.

I want to butter a warm slice,

I want to see her smile,

feel love,

taste her bread.

But I look at him

and I know

it’ll be stale.

I stayed

I fell in love a

few years ago

maybe a hundred years ago.

I loved seeing his face,

hearing his voice,

feeling his arms.

I wasn’t sure what to do

when he decided to love

me back.

Fear and a natural

inclination to run.

I’m not ready,

I’m not worthy.

But I stayed and

we loved.

Fear doesn’t really disappear but

waits patiently to strike.

A vulnerable person will

allow it.

What happens next

is life.

Words

Yes, I will do it

and I’ll know how.

I create with words

your picture

your love

our fate.

But words go weak

with time

and I can’t focus

on your face.

My fingers shake

and I drop my pen.

I am lost and

alone again.

But I will turn the

page and believe

in our fate.

For now though,

it’s too late.

It’s so hard

It’s so hard

to let go

and even harder 

not to let go.

Holding on seems right

in some ways

but you need strength

courage and faith.

You’re supposed to let go

of all the bad stuff–the pain

the stress, the worries

and hold onto the good.

It’s so hard to do either

and even harder to know

which is better.

I’m not the person I was

I’m not meant to be free

I struggle every day

just to be me—