I’m a big believer in the Law of Attraction but I’ve been a little lax in really working it lately. Yesterday, I bought Rhonda Byrne’s new book, The Magic, to remind myself. I have yet to read it, but I loved The Secret and The Power so I have high hopes for this book.
Luckily, the universe gave me credit for the work I’ve done in the past and serendipity has once again given me a gentle nudge. I’m blessed to be making wonderful new friends, both virtual and face-to-face, as well as finally meeting some virtual friends in person. I’m also blessed to be able to enjoy the process of acquaintances becoming friends and friendships moving to new levels. After a difficult transition, my heart and my life are filling up again with joy, laughter and love and I couldn’t be more grateful.
Stealing Liberties is still eyeing me from it’s binder and reminds me daily that I need to finish writing Sarah Stevens’ next story. Writers often talk about how their characters talk to them, or rather, they whisper about it amongst themselves because they think everyone else will think they’re crazy. I’m no exception. My characters have been talking to me lately and here’s what they’re saying:
Vince is sitting in a high-backed leather chair, gently swirling melting ice cubes in a cut crystal lowball glass one-quarter filled with Scotch. “It’s been two years, Lisa. We’ve been patient, but don’t you think it’s time?”
Will is sitting in the twin of Vince’s chair, his right ankle resting on his left knee. The top button of his shirt is unbuttoned and his blue silk tie has been loosened. A dark blue sport coat has been carefully folded and laid over the back of his chair. He takes a draw from a dark cigar and gently exhales, filling the room with the smoky scent of sweet wood and earth with just a hint of chocolate. He fixes me with his sky blue eyes. “You’ve had a lot going on in your life, kid. I gotta hand it to you, you really turned that train wreck around. But you need to keep writing us. Let us help you do this?”
Jason bounds into the room, his jeans are worn with holes in the thighs and his black tee shirt sticks to his sweaty chest. “Am I late? Are we finally having a come to Jesus meeting for Lisa?”
Will nods from his chair.
Jason takes a deep breath, exhales and then pulls off his sticky tee shirt. “I just want to have some fun again, you know? We used to go spar in the desert, shoot golf balls off the deck of the yacht and drink tequila in shitastic Vegas dive bars.” He grabs a nearby pack of Marlboros and flips a cigarette out of the box. He places it between his lips and speaks out of the side of his mouth as he lights the cigarette with his silver Zippo. “Let’s just do some more of that! Besides, you need to tell all those dames about me.” He winks. “Make me look good to your readers so I can start getting the kind of action Brian gets.”
Brian pipes up from the sofa against the wall. “Action I haven’t had in two years. How long are you going to keep us locked up in the waiting room in your mind, darlin?”
“Let’s look at the situation here.” Chris has been quietly sitting at the other end of the sofa. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, smiling softly at me. “You’ve had a lot going on. You didn’t have the benefit of The Camp like Sarah did, but you managed to do what you needed to anyway. And I should add that just because the loser men currently in your life haven’t said so, does not mean you aren’t looking good. You look great! It was a hard road, but it’s behind you now. It’s time for you to have the good life too. Sarah got it. Isn’t it time you did too?”
Sarah stands from the chair where she had been sitting quietly in the corner of the room. She tosses her long, wavy, light brown hair over her right shoulder. An extra button on her blouse is unbuttoned, exposing just enough breast to show her confidence in her body. Her long, tanned legs stretch to the mid-thigh hem of a short black skirt. The red soles of her black Louboutin Mary Janes flash as she crosses the room to stand behind Vince’s chair. She leans against the chair on her right elbow and hooks her right foot behind her left ankle. “We know why you wrote me, Lisa, and we both know who I am. For four years now, you’ve been putting this future together for yourself. You need to get on with it. You knew twenty years ago where your future was. It’s time we had it. It’s time to live your story. Time to make some magic.”
She’s right. It’s time to make some magic.