Dear kindreds.
Ready for an Out-Of-The-Blue-Ish kind of a topic?
Because one presents itself very handily here, and it proves to be a pleasant thing to scribble about on Saturday afternoons ;) (That’s when this was written, see, only I added tidbits and furbelows on later days too, maybe even a Wednesday.)
Every so often the subject of scribbles, and what to name them comes up in the various places of discussion on the blogs of Accomplished Scribblers Whose Work I Admire. The general rule seemeth to be that, scribble once having been written, it then proves uncooperative in allowing itself to be crowned with a Particularly Suited Title Which Pleases The Author.
This is very interesting to me. Because in my experience, and throughout all my years of scribblerhood…
This is exactly the opposite of my difficulty.
Exactly.
See, I have titles that stack up in my head and result in mountains the like of which would fill a shelf with books—if their stories were written. Unfortunately, this is not the case, as they come decidedly without stories. Typically with outlines, and that’s about all. Like covers with maybe a front page and fluid description, but no book in them.
Titles jump out at me from the pages of books, ‘round corners and places through which sunshine peeps and casts intriguing shadows…
Well, not exactly by way of shadows. That was poetic liberty, and not an actual happening😆 But who knows? Maybe someday! The point is, they do pop up, and then they sound SO interesting to me that I either scramble them down, or just go around with them visiting my thoughts at completely unexpectable intervals throughout the seasons. Whether this means they should do the same to other people remains unknown😆
But today…
A handful of them are venturing out into the world, to see whether they have fortunes to be made, or should go into gardening instead. Livelihoods or lavender, you know.
Be dears and tell me what you think, won’t you? It may save us both seeds and sowing. In individual gardens and otherwise…
Shall we sally forth and meet our contestants, then?
Quite right. Off we go then!
1. The Words Of His Mouth Were Smoother Than Butter, (But War Was In His Heart)
Okay, that one… I was reading through the Psalms the other day, and that line of Psalm 55:21 just leapt out at me… And it wanted to be a story. Oh, but it wanted to be a story!!
Now, this is not one I could ever write… I wonder if there is such a thing possible as writing a letter to Tessa Afshar? Because if so… I may have to!
2. Painting The Roses Red.
This is an old one😆 I believe the original interpretation was that people will go to great lengths to tint their roses to the queen’s decrees, terrified of losing both noggins and position… “Off with their heads” and all that, you know… When it isn’t the queen who matters at all, but the wisdom of the King, who painted the roses perfectly the first time, thankyou very much.
Yes, I thought myself to be quite wise at the time😜😆
3. Teachers Of Good Things
This one is also the excerpt of a bible verse… Namely, Titus 2:3.And it does come with a person in mind, a charming, precious, pure gold darling of a woman… Of silvered crowning glory. A character, you could say. As yet unwritten. Character, that is, the part about the bookful of her story goes without saying.
Bottle Full Of Tears:
Psalm 56:8-1
The story of three portraits, children, their lives a victim to the holocaust, and the Father who never let them go.
Even in greatest sorrow…
And finally… The one that has come closest to being written out…
You ready? Well, hang on to your gold pan then, cuz WE… Are off to Dawson City, Whitehorse Pass, and the land of dancehall girls…. To meet one man. Yup, really just the one. The celebrities shall have to live in some other book, we’re here for a Nobody. An unusual kind of a nobody, undriven by gold, and there for unfathomable reasons… So say the Sourdoughs!
Shall we meet him? Well then, step lively and skip a beat, because here… Is…
Number 4.
Aka, No Fool’s Gold
Yup. This is him, No Fool. Oh, he doesn’t look like much yet, but he’s a pretty decent guy, for all that. Humbly clothed, but richer than many a millionaire….
Okay. I admit…. This one has a leetle touch of an ulterior motive in it😆 I don’t know about anyone else, but…. Ohh, I get sick of hearing about gold fever and men losing their minds to the allure of the elusive…. Coming back broken, because they sought what was either unattainable, or cost them everything…. And sent them home mindboggling wealthy, and unable to even enjoy it. Like a Robert Service poem, the Yukon that swallowed men alive.
Now, give me a story like that of Twelve Foot Davis, whose cabin possessed a latch string which was always out, and you have a happy camper. Er, scribbler. I LOOOOOVE pioneer stories, I just like ‘em heart-rich, not weighted down with a sack of gold😆
Soooooo… The thing is, I wanted just this one guy who DIDN’T. Didn’t catch the fever, didn’t go down on the Gold Boat, only ever ventured down the Pass to bring others back down. That kinda guy. He’s in the middle of it with everyone else, he’s seeing everything they do… But it doesn’t take hold of him, and he finds his gold in the little things everyone else is missing.
There is gold, and then there is Fool’s gold. But towering above them both, you have No Fool’s Gold… (Yes, this is what they call him, and no, it ain’t his real name…) And he seems to have a knack for finding it everywhere! Richer than George Carmack after the Bonanza Creek was discovered.
Which is really, really rich. He stored up His treasures in heaven, and moth and rust were no match for them…
In The Lair Of The Evening Wolves
This one is brand new, y’all… So new it does not even have an attached description of plot. (Although it may posses a small orphan boy by the name of David. Found out just now.) And it has been echoing in my thoughts.
I know very little about Evening Wolves, except that they are mentioned in the bible… And even so… Only the fact that they exist. In Zephaniah 3:3. Look it up!
I’m picturing this as set in an ancient times 63 years into the exile of the Israelites in Babylon, awaiting the promise of being brought home again, anticipation mounting… Again, Tessa Afshar, please?!! Oh, never mind, if she wrote every story I thought of, she’d be swamped beyond belief😜 Could also go by One Boy’s Journey.
Now hang you on, my handful grew!
Masterpiece:The Wonder Of God’s Crayons.
Sometimes children just say the most simplistically insightful things…. This is something I borrowed from my little sissie, when she was a much younger sissie than she is now… She’d say God’s “markers” must be pretty marvellous to colour the world like it is. And she was right. From the mouths of babes and five yr olds….
I’ve heard it said that we are God’s masterpieces….
But how often do we stop to believe that God simply doesn’t slip and drop a sudden splotch of paint in the wrong place? Not ever. We’re the ones who do that when we try to wield the brush our own way…. It’s like letting a five yr old loose on a Thomas Kincaid painting. Not good at all😆
He doesn’t make mistakes with His works of Art, and He doesn’t do them randomly. Every line in us, whether we recognize it or not, is intentional, and that is beautiful. No, Anne, just because you were given red hair does not mean it was for spite. But how often do we forget? Read Zephaniah 3:17 if today happens to be a day when you could use a reminder of just how loved you are. A book I should read a great deal more often, or at least once thoroughly, because I had forgotten the beauty of the promises within its pages…..
Huh🤔 Now I went n said a HANDFUL of titles, and here we see exactly… A cool seven. A handful plus two digits. Or maybe 2 pinches, if we count like I cook.
But see, the thing is… Those are my main unwritten ones, and sometimes the names DO only come along after a thing is written. (Though about 3 of these are brand new, showing up for this specifically, I guess!) They can be convenient that way. Other times a name pops out of the blue, and demands you to use it. Or else it just sticks around. Sometimes a scribble goes title-less for years, but almost always… They go and choose their very own!
Which puts me on the verge of Story Letters, and THERE is a topic for another post. One I may yet need to put Down The Rabbit Hole, because it thoroughly invigorates me😜
The joys of creating people, people!!!! The wonder of seeing a story spun before your very eyes and feeling rather like you’re just the pen…
There now, how was that for a ramble rolled-into-scribble-airing?? I shudder slightly to think of how many miles have gone by, yet I don’t know of much I’d change… So there we have it (;
The Title-Folk have had their little excursion into the world, foraying and sallying forth in scribbling suits trimmed brilliantly with ruffles of Word-ribbons and Yet More Verbage.
So, dear readers… Now I must ask an opinion of you😜 Since you are so obligingly Still Here, and available to be asked, and also because I am now the slightest (ahem) bit curious…
Question #One. Do any of these sound like stories you’d write?
Ditto #Two. Which one most tickled your interest, and what do you see the contents as? Colours, picture's, characters… (That’s always my favourite part of discovering a story, discovering the people in it😉)
Okay. The walls of solid text are going abroad now, and the titles to seek wise counsel… And as for Emily, she is off to bed, being yawningly finishing the ending of this!
Goodnight, you lovely people… Although chances are you’ll read this in the morning. That was not very well thought out. Oh well, goodnight anyway😆
Yours Wordingly,
~Emily
