Tuesday, July 17, 2012

0048 - Burgess Falls

I love my new camera.

This is a closeup of the Harley Quinn statuette Mike got me for our first anniversary. Amazing. Mike and the camera. :)


Today we drove into Cookeville for lunch because nothing in Gainesboro is open on Monday or Tuesday. We landed at Stroud's Barbecue. One of the reviewers said it wasn't barbecue... I tend to agree. The bbq nachos I got were good, but it was slow cooker pork, nothing smoked or grilled.

Along the road to Gainesboro we always pass by what I call The Cave of Mystery. What the hell is it? I don't know. It doesn't go anywhere. Mostly I see graffiti on the walls, and occasionally there will be a big rig using it as a parking area.


After lunch it was on to the Amish-run Malco Farms stand to get veggies and butter. They have ripe tomatoes and the best avocados I have ever had. Today I wanted to make dry soup. I don't know if my mom invented it or what, but it is one of my favorite things to eat. You basically chop a tomato, boil some corn and cut it off the cob, make some fried okra, and some black-eyed peas, and then you mix it all together and eat it with cornbread. I'll skip ahead a bit and say that I made it and it was delicious. I've been craving veggies. It was the first time I've ever made fried okra and it was a success, so I'm kinda proud of me! Mike helped me out and made cornbread using an Uncle Bob's mix. It was denser than we're used to, but it was good... sort of sweet... some field corn mixed in would have put it over the top. I kind of want to make strawberry shortcake with it.

Afterward I wanted to go somewhere that I could put my camera to use taking pics of 'something pretty'. So we ended up at Burgess Falls. It started off pretty easy, but the further along the trail you go, the steeper and more complicated it gets. There are roots everywhere - which is awesome because I love all the tangly roots and have started to wonder if maybe the ancient Druids used them as the basis for some of the Celtic knots you see today - and sometimes there were trees in the middle of the path, or narrow paths with a steep dropoff, or you had to duck down because of a rocky outcropping. Not complaining, just giving you an idea what to expect should you attempt it.

This was the smallest of the falls and it was instant gratification since it's pretty much right there when you hit the trails.




An example of the path with roots sticking up.


A close-up of some moss growing on a rock or a tree.


These were the middle falls, slightly larger than the first. Pretty spectacular.




I love macro mode, I can get right up on something and take a picture.


Did I mention that Mike and I are fascinated by the twisty roots? They're freakin' awesome. The first one almost looks like one of the black and white photos where one thing in the photo has been colorized. I think it's neat.



Wet-weather waterfall. The rock in the area consists of several layers all the way down. It's neat to see them exposed like that.



Interesting picture of a tree.


Twisty limb.


On the one hand... I want to slap everyone who participated in the mutilation of this tree. On the other hand... I have to admit it makes a strange and compelling art piece.


Moss on tree bark.


I guess this is really what they consider the Middle Falls. Looks kind of like a big footprint.


The viewing platform.



We found this tree with pretty mushrooms growing along the sides. They were so pretty. This is a closeup of the underside of one of them.


They look almost like ivory flowers.


I was about to rest my hand on the bark to steady the camera when I saw this guy. First my brain told me he was an earthworm, but it didn't compute. I asked Mike if it was a centipede or a millipede and he agreed I should leave it alone. He snapped a pic though.




Mike saw this cool lizard. I was trying to get a really closeup shot but Mr. Lizard only stayed put long enough for Mike to get a few shots off, then he ran and hid. He wasn't friendly like the Geico gecko...


Thus began our descent toward the largest of the falls. This was the easy part because there were stairs. After this point it was up to us to find a way down the rocks to the bottom of the falls. So... Mike ventured out and I stayed on the trail for a bit... I was afraid I'd lose my footing and fall. Until... this family passed me by... a family with small children... and an older gentleman who said he'd been down to the falls many times. It kind of shamed me into giving it a try. So I slid down a couple of boulders and worked my way down further until I found Mike, hoping like hell I'd be able to get back up. Glad I did, it was nice down there and gave me a little bit of confidence in myself, too. I always tell Mike that I have almost twisted my ankle a thousand times, but I have become very adept at "falling" before it does damage. Mind you, I don't exactly fall, I manage to recover my balance before that happen. He's seen me skate through a puddle in my Crocs without falling on my ass... he knows why my name isn't Grace.


Rocky outcroppings above us on the way to the falls.


At this point it felt like we were in a rainforest, it was humid and very much like being in Romancing the Stone.




Mike captured this wee fella. I chased one unsuccessfully for a while and gave up. Every time he landed and I almost focused on him, he flew away.



If you enlarge this one it's almost an optical illusion, the moss on the rocks shows through the water and makes it look like you can see the forest through the water.


This one looks neat to me because at the top of the falls on the right hand side, the water almost looks like an owl's head.


Green dragonfly. The butterflies may not have liked me - but the dragonflies LOVED ME. That's cool. I love dragonflies, too.


White dragonfly.


Bronze dragonfly.






You can tell that at some point the water was higher and going very, very fast, because this boulder caught a bunch of fallen trees.



Blue dragonfly. Never seen so many different kinds. Some people like birds... we like dragonflies.



This is the kind of terrain we were climbing.




Going back up.


The top of the falls were cool, too.






And back in Granville... This is just down the road from where we're staying.



This is behind us. You have to walk down a short trail to get there, but it's gorgeous.


Random hibiscus on the trail.



Closeup of a vine winding its way around a branch.


The End. :)


Monday, July 16, 2012

0047 - Game on

Got my new camera this evening, too late to have much fun with it. But tomorrow it's GAME ON.

Today isn't really worth blogging about. I know, I'm sad too. :) Only thing of note is that we found a Thai restaurant and it wasn't bad. Service was great and it was a nice little place. Yea for Cookeville.

I worked on my manuscript a little this morning... so far it's overwhelmingly disappointing. I think I remember now that the beginning moved a little slow and needed some work, I mostly need to make cuts. But I think I was proud of things from about chapter four on. I may be remembering incorrectly and it all sucks. I hope not.

Okay, gonna go grab a real book by a real author and lose myself in a chapter or two.

P.S. Today's word is... Larb.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

0046 - Blocked

I really, really want to write again but I don't feel like I have any ideas worth exploring. Vampires, zombies, witches, pandemics... all of these things interest me but they've been done to death... and yes, I do see the irony in that statement At this point, I have the time to invest in a story, but I have no story.

I was only ever able to finish one story, my beta readers liked it, and then I encountered rejection from agents, and I let the rejection skew how I viewed my work. I began to slice through my story until it started to bleed... there wasn't enough depth... everyone thought the main character was me... I received two positive emails from agencies, and multiple rejections. I was fairly confident at first, but then suddenly... I gave up. I really needed to revisit it with new eyes. As a writer you can become so entrenched in your work that you are no longer objective. You've read it so much that you get sick of it. The scariest moment is that point where you read it with disenchanted eyes, and suddenly you begin to believe that this 'masterpiece' you were so proud of SUCKS - your baby is ugly.

It's frustrating to know that you can be creative, to know that you've been able to finish something in the past, but to not be able to do it now. My muse has always been finicky. I can't force it. I can take advantage of it while it's there, and as long as I stay in the habit of writing (be it words or music) I am so creative that I obsess. I lose sleep over a sentence, I literally have to write it down, so I keep a notebook by the bed. The minute I stop writing, I am done for.

Unfortunately I stopped. I don't even know why. The story wasn't finished, it has a sequel but I never started it.

So I started blogging, thinking that it would get me back into the habit of writing... which it did... but it only put me into the habit of writing a blog. Not exactly what I was going for. Don't get me wrong, blogging is good, it's like a photo album with words, I can go back and relive some good memories. And now that we've moved, it's something of a lifeline between us and our friends and family. It's just not the creative outlet I need.

Sometimes I wonder if I didn't read other people's books, if I stopped watching television... would I force my muse out of hibernation? Am I muddying up the waters? But the weird thing is... when I wrote my screenplay... when I wrote my book... I had the tv on in the background as I wrote, and I still read books. So I don't know what the answer is.


The book actually started with a phrase that was inspired by the atmospheric cinematography of the Twilight movie (don't judge). The strangest details are the ones that capture my attention. The hard part for me is to venture beyond the bones of a story, to flesh out the details... to describe a tree not just as a tree, but as a gnarled oak with leaves made transparent by winter. A footstep is the defiant crunch of long-dead acorns underfoot. You have to make things tactile. You want to smell the decay of the forest, the damp air from the rain, feel the heavy, moisture-laden air. For me to do that is an afterthought, it's not part of the first draft, I have to make it happen.

I envy authors like Laurell K Hamilton, it seems almost effortless for her. I know it isn't, or maybe it wasn't in the beginning, but she writes not one, but two popular series, cranking out a book or two a year. I envy Stephen King his prolific imagination. I envy JK Rowling and Stephanie Meyers. I envy all the writers who crank out book after book with a loyal fanbase, not because of their celebrity, not because of their bank accounts (well...), but because they keep people enthralled.

I want my muse back.