Author Archives: Lisa Shambrook

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About Lisa Shambrook

An author and dreamer who loves dragons... Author www.lisashambrook.com and owner Amaranth Alchemy on Etsy etsy.com/uk/shop/AmaranthAlchemy

Don’t Just Tell Me, Show Me – How to Write with Emotion

Make me feel your story, make me sense it and experience it.
Take me into your world, and let me live it with your protagonist.

how to write with emotion, don't show tell, show don't tell, the last krystallos, I’m an emotive writer, and my pieces concentrate much on the senses and the old adage: show, not tell. Not every writer swears by this approach, but my writing works more in this field than with explanatory description.

Emotions rule our world and fuel our stories, without emotion our stories become a boring and grim lists of actions. Stories begin with a dilemma and continue with the reactions to that impasse. All our reactions are emotional, we’re human beings, not robots, and even if you’re writing about robots, your story will need emotional content if it is to survive!

Showing emotion is vital to fire up your writing.

life and characters, charles dickens, lisa shambrook, the last krystallos,

Life and Characters © Lisa Shambrook

Don’t tell me your protagonist is angry, show me their fury, show me the whites of their eyes, that vein that throbs in their temple, the clenching of fists, and the heat flushing through their body… Don’t tell me your character is sad, show me them picking at their food, their trembling chin, glistening eyes, show me how their voice breaks as they utter words, and how their hopelessness demonstrates itself by listless expressions and hands hanging at their sides… Don’t just say they’re happy, let me see their mouth curl in delight, their laughter lines, how they dance as they walk, a lightness of being, their confidence and relaxed shoulders…

Writers can use speech to demonstrate emotions, but nonverbal cues are even more important. We are told that body language conveys more information than words ever can. Statistics say that: words (what is said) account for 7% of the overall message we hear, tone of voice (how it is said) accounts for 38% and body language accounts for 55%…so 93% of all communication is nonverbal.

Let’s look at an example, and because May was Mental Health Awareness Month, and I missed it due to chaotic family obligations, let’s look at anxiety:

In this chapter from ‘Beneath the Old Oak’ Meg’s mum is getting impatient, irritated and her anxiety manifests. First, a basic excerpt:

“Excuse me?” said Meg’s mum. “Could we please try these in a size four?”
The sales-boy nodded. As he disappeared Mum glared at the whining child as his mother took the football boots from him. Mum glanced at her watch and sighed.
Meg moved to her mother as the boy and his mum left. Mum ignored her daughter’s grin. “He’s going to be a real brat one day. Ah, here are yours.”
The sales-boy returned with one trainer. “I’m sorry,” he said, “only got these in a three and then a seven, sold out.”
“That’s a vast difference in sizes, no others in stock? This is a shoe shop isn’t it?” said Mum.

This paragraph works in that we can see Meg’s mum is trying to get trainers for her daughter and we can see she’s getting irritated, particularly by another customer and her son, but we can’t really feel the emotions surging within her. Let’s try the paragraph again with some small additions:

“Excuse me?” Meg’s mum waved the black trainer at the sales-boy over the child’s head. “Could we please try these in a four?”
He nodded, adding the trainer to his teetering pile of boxes. As he disappeared Mum glared at the whining child as his mother tried to prise the football boot from his grasp. Mum glanced at her watch and pulled an old receipt out of her pocket. She stared in the direction of the stockroom and began tearing the receipt into thin strips.
Meg sidled up to her mother as the boy’s mum finally wrested the boot from him, returned it to the shelf and dragged him away, his complaints still echoing. Mum ignored her daughter’s grin. “He’s going to be a real brat one day. Ah, here are yours.”
Meg noted the single trainer in the sales-boy’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, “only got these in a three and then a seven, sold out.”
“That’s a vast difference in sizes, no others in stock? This is a shoe shop isn’t it?” The receipt in Mum’s hand turned into confetti.

We immediately have more information about Mum’s impatience, as she waves the shoe over the other customer’s head. We see the sales-boy is busy, with teetering boxes. We also see the strain between the other customer and her son in two additional sentences. Meg notices only one trainer in the sales-boy’s hand, which adds to the tension. Finally we make an addition that shows the anxiety building inside Meg’s mother, and this is in an unconscious action displayed by her. Think about things you do when you’re anxious and include them in your writing.

Meg’s mum pulls an old receipt, a piece of paper, from her pocket. It’s irrelevant except for the action which will show you her state of mind. She begins to tear it into strips, and the final sentence shows you just how much her anxiety is rising, by the fact that she’s ripped the receipt up into tiny pieces, like confetti.

Meg’s mum’s anxiety grows as the chapter proceeds.

“Stupid boxes…” Mum groaned as she tried to fit the bulky shoes into the tight box.

“And it’s too hot! We come in wearing coats, because it’s winter. Why do they make it so hot?” Mum trembled, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.

Meg’s sigh matched her mother’s as she pulled off the shoes. She left her mum to pack them away and moved, in her socked feet, back to the display. Not a moment later she heard a frustrated grunt and a trainer flew past her ear. It rebounded on the wall and knocked three shoes to the ground. Meg ducked and twirled round. Her mother stood, red-faced and furious.

See how the actions clue you up on Meg’s mother’s growing anxiety, irritation and irrational behaviour.

emotion thesaurus, angela ackerman and becca puglisi,

The Emotion Thesaurus – invaluable!

We’re often told to write what we know, and I’m lucky, or unlucky – your call, as I know what anxiety feels like. I’m able to write from experience and convey the very emotions I’ve undergone in my own life in my writing. But what happens if we’ve never experienced the things our characters do? After all, the average murder mystery wasn’t written by a killer! One of the most comprehensive resources I have is The Emotion Thesaurus, it’s invaluable! Written by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi, you won’t find a better guide to character expression out there*.

“As writers, we must take our innate skills of observation and transfer them to the page. Readers have high expectations. They don’t want to be told how a character feels; they want to experience the emotion for themselves. To make this happen, we must ensure that our characters express their emotions in ways that are both recognisable and compelling to read.”
(The Emotion Thesaurus Introduction)

So, fire up your writing, infuse your stories and take me on an adventure…
don’t just tell me, take me with you!

the emotion thesaurus, angela ackerman and becca puglisi,

From The Emotion Thesaurus

Note I have no arrangements or sponsorship through or with The Emotion Thesaurus or its authors, I just believe it’s a darn good book!

Beneath_the_Old_Oak_front_cover_finalTo read more of Meg and her mum’s battles, ‘Beneath the Old Oak’ is available in paperback and eBook on Amazon and Etsy.

‘Turn those dreams of escape into hope…’ Meg thinks her mother is broken. Is she broken too? Meg’s life spirals out of control, and when she mirrors her Mum’s erratic behaviour, she’s terrified she’ll inherit her mother’s sins. Seeking refuge and escape, she finds solace beneath a huge, old oak. A storm descends, and Meg needs to survive devastating losses.

Blues Buster: Eminence Front

© Lisa Shambrook

© Lisa Shambrook

The crowd’s roar and applause made her cringe, the noise, so loud, so big, and so cloying. Sarah gazed through the colours, through the bobbing heads, and saw only frontrunners sprinting across the finish line.

Silver foil flashed, the sun catching it and blinding Sarah momentarily. She blinked and eased back. Trumpets bugled and hooters hooted, cheers and cries of congratulations rose over the onlookers, and Sarah glanced up at the big screen on the building opposite. She squeezed herself into a small spot on the wall and pulled her legs in close.

The winners, the frontrunners, smiled on the screen. Teeth and twinkling eyes pixelated and jumped as the competitors caught their breath and accepted adulation. Sponsors raced forward to position themselves, banners rising with winners, and products placed in advantageous sites. Cameramen arced down to legs attached to pistons and blades, shiny carbon-fibre appendages in racing black decorated with beads of sweat.

The winners had the best equipment, the biggest sponsors, the most money, and Sarah sighed.

Even pixelated the racing blades, the prosthetics, and the artificial limbs shone as state of the art. Money bought winners, and winners bought sponsors, and from the crowd’s clamour about her, that bought adoration and fame. She bit her lip and climbed into a standing position to stare down the road, but only shiny blades continued to catch the light and glare back at her.

She steeled herself, pushed the encroaching crowd away, and settled back down on the wall.

For a couple of hours she listened as the crowds cheered the marathon runners, and watched as they dwindled as the prosthetic tech became less impressive, and the sponsors less memorable.

Finally, light faded, the tech reverted, and the hum of the crowd declined.

Sarah scrambled to her feet, and clung to the lamppost beside her. She stared down the road, but the low light made it difficult to see. Floodlights suddenly devoured the dusk and Sarah blinked again, shielding her eyes from the dazzling brilliance. Black spots danced before her vision, as the big screen suddenly snapped back on and focussed on the empty road.

Sarah’s stomach lurched, and her heart rose with hope and anticipation. She pushed through the muddle of people still left, those who’d lost interest hours ago, but hung around with the hope of a last minute story. And here it was.

Sarah’s eyes glazed as a dot on the horizon grew steadily bigger. She glanced up at the screen as it pixelated and focussed. Far down the road her son approached, a lone walker, a figure shuffling forward with determination and grit. Sarah didn’t even try to stop the tears that rolled down her face. Every fibre of her heart reached out to the boy, every ounce of strength, of resolve and stamina poured down the road to her boy.

The TV screen adjusted and the image sharpened, and the remaining crowd visibly held their breath.

Sarah’s heart swelled to proportions she’d never before encountered and she thought she’d burst. Tears glistened in every eye as her son limped, and dragged his foot, his leg-brace no longer holding him steady. The buckles broken, the metal, bent, but the lad still walked with his head led high, and his brow shimmering with diamonds of perspiration.

Gasps trickled through the audience as barriers broke, and suddenly athletes, runners and racers who’d finished the marathon hours before, surrounded the boy. Carbon fibre blades, and modern artificial appendages, accompanied the teenager with the broken brace and twisted leg, and silence suddenly blossomed into cheers.

Applause echoed throughout the darkening streets, and Sarah wept as her son’s smile filled the big screen, as his shuffle moved him forward and the pain on his face diminished with pride.

He crossed the line, with as many onlookers as the frontrunners, and Sarah caught him in her arms. They both knew you didn’t need money, or sponsors, or anything more than love and belief, to win.

(663 Words)
@LastKrystallos

My story for Jeff at The Tsuruoka Files Blues Buster. The song prompt is The Who’s Eminence Front. Check out the other stories!

You’re Not Alone: an Indie Author Anthology for Macmillan Cancer Support

When I was afforded the opportunity to contribute a short story to an indie anthology, in support of Macmillan Nurses, it was a pleasure to be involved. My own experience with cancer, as with many others, is varied. I know people who’ve suffered, those who’ve survived and those who didn’t, and my own children have two grandparents fighting the disease. I help my beloved father as he cares for my mother now suffering with secondary breast cancer within her bones and insidious dementia. I know the intrinsic value of Macmillan nurses, and the intensive support they offer.

If I can give something back, I will.

You;re not Alone an indie anthology, macmillan cancer support, book, charity book,

Ian D. Moore, author of ‘Salby Damned’ wrote about the beginning of this book: ‘This Anthology began with a single thought…You’re Not Alone. Faced with the realisation that I was witnessing the beginning of the end of a fight with cancer that had raged for eight years in someone very dear to me, I felt powerless to do anything to thwart the inevitable. It was in the final days of Pamela’s life that I realised the potential that myself, and my writer friends possessed, that would enable us to make a difference.’

He then proceeded to rally his friends and fellow authors and created something special, of which I am grateful to be part.

Please read his articles: You’re Not Alone – An Indie Author Anthology for Macmillan Cancer Support and Vision to Fruition – With A Little Help From My Friends to learn more of the process and read testimonials from each of the 27 authors as to why they became involved. It will touch you.

The front cover art work was created by the very talented artist Christine Southworth and Nico Laeser turned her sketch into a beautiful cover wrap.

You're Not Alone: an Indie Author Anthology for Macmillan Cancer Support

All net proceeds from this book will go to Macmillan Cancer Support via the Pamela Winton Fund (see below), and you can currently pre-order the eBook today: £1.99 UK or $3.11 US, this link will take you to your local Amazon site.

A paperback version will also be available once the anthology is released on 11th July 2015.

You can also donate directly to The Pamela Mary Winton Tribute fund. This fund is in Pamela’s name but all donations go to Macmillan Cancer Support. Any kind donations are gratefully received.

You're Not Alone: an Indie Author Anthology for Macmillan Cancer SupportIn this collection you’ll find short stories to thrill you, they’ll scare you and leave you looking over your shoulder as you head back from your lunch break. There are stories of hope, stories of courage and stories of sheer determination, much like the very story that created this work to begin with.

What can you do?

Be ready to buy or reblog/share what you’ve found, help us to help those in need.

And join our Facebook Page: You’re Not Alone: An Indie Anthology and help to spread the news!

If you or anyone you know has been touched by cancer,
help us to do something to give back to those who give all to help…

Visual Dare: Burden

Photo Source

Photo Source

It’s heavy, so heavy, a bone-crushing weight that sits squarely on his shoulders. It sleeps within his heart most days, but when it wakes – it screams at him in silence.

He works in the garden, tending, pruning and caring, the same as he does indoors. The wind whispers in the leaves and the soil warms his fingers as he works. He loses himself, out there beneath the sun, heat softly stroking his back.

Indoors, his heart threatens to explode within his ribs, his mind caught within the web of knowledge and his burden growing with every passing moment.

She smiles, and his heart swells and his eyes glisten. Today she knows who he is. Today, he grips her liver-spotted hand within his wrinkled fingers, and kisses her soft skin. He smiles back.

Tomorrow is another day, and he doesn’t know what it will hold. The weight sits heavy, and heart-breaking.

(150 words)

00. VisDare Badge

An entry for Visual Dare over at Angela Goff’s Anonymous Legacy…this picture spoke to me of my own father, and a burden of knowledge…

Check out the other stories

How We Lost 8 Stone in a Year – My 365 Days with My Fitness Pal

how we lost 8 stone in year, my 365 days my fitness pal, last krystallos, losing weight, weightloss,

Last year, a new phenomenon hit my family’s life – and we lost 112lbs in 365 days.

Bridesmaid Bekah © Lisa Shambrook
Bridesmaid © Lisa Shambrook

My oldest began using My Fitness Pal to lose weight. They wanted to be a slimmer bridesmaid for their best friend’s wedding, and once we saw the pounds falling away, we joined in!

I’d been unhappy with my rising weight for a while, and though I wasn’t overweight I was far off my preferred mark on the scales. So I decided to follow Rayn’s example and download My Fitness Pal, a free calorie counting app. Several weeks later, after a loss of a fair few pounds, hubby joined in. We very much wanted to return to sizes we were many years ago…

What we once were... © Lisa Shambrook
What we once were 2001… © Lisa Shambrook

Vince was overweight, but not unhappy, just disillusioned with the idea of dieting. He didn’t think he’d stick to a diet, as such, and didn’t believe it would be easy to lose weight. It was seeing Rayn lose a stone (14lbs) that spurred him into action. We explained that calorie counting wasn’t dieting in the sense of banning certain foods, but more about understanding calories, how much we needed to eat and how many calories you needed to allow you to lose weight.

What we were in 2011 and now in 2015 © Lisa Shambrook
What we were in 2011 and now in 2015 (or from cosy to bad ass) © Lisa Shambrook

The recommended calorie intake for a man in the UK is 2,500 Kcal, and a woman 2,000 Kcal, advised by the NHS. My Fitness Pal asks about you, what you weigh, how much weight you want to lose and gives you a daily calorie intake to achieve this*, over a period of time.

*Note: it’s advisable to contact your Dr, when making serious weight loss plans or if you have health problems.

healthy food, salad, egg and bacon salad, soup, watermelon, tomatoes, lettuce, eggs,
© Lisa Shambrook

We soon realised we knew nothing about calories or the amount we were actually eating each day, and, certainly, it was far more than the recommended intake. For our goal weights My Fitness Pal reduced our intake, mine was decreased to 1,200 Kcal, to lose one to two pounds per week. You can adjust the intake to what you desire.

We very quickly learned how many calories lurked in each item of food we bought! We then went about changing our diets. We didn’t eat much processed food to start with, I prefer cooking from scratch, but we did learn that our portions needed to be downsized, fast! We cut our intake of carbohydrates drastically, reducing potatoes, bread, pasta etc by about 80%, and I soon realised I was putting cheese, large amounts, on and in everything! Dairy and carbs were the first things to go. I stopped buying mild cheddar completely, preferring much smaller amounts of good quality mature cheese instead. We switched to semi-skimmed milk, and cut the amount of desserts and chocolate. We didn’t ban anything, but discovered that healthy, low calorie was better for us. We experimented with soups and salads, and lean meat, and cut our portion sizes.

my fitness pal, the last krystallos, keep fit, lose weight, losing weight, weightloss,
My Fitness Pal © Lisa Shambrook

Now, far from making us hungry, the smaller portions helped us appreciate what we were eating and stopped us feeling bloated from ‘too much just because we could’ syndrome. We found low cal snacks and just ate less of what was higher in calories.

My Fitness Pal requires you to fill in what you eat each day and how much you exercise. From that information it predicts what your weight loss will be. It was dead on. The weight began melting away.

trainers, weight loss, tape measure,
© Lisa Shambrook

Six months after starting using the app, we joined the local gym. Up ‘til then our exercise consisted of long dog walks, and as we lost weight, the walks got longer. Now we added a gym plan, and instead of just losing weight, we began to tone. Vince noticed the results most, the strength exercises worked for great muscle development and cardio offered stamina and fitness. Calorie counting to lose weight works, but exercise is the key to maintaining and toning.

My two stones - all gone © Lisa Shambrook
My two stone – all gone © Lisa Shambrook

After nine months, I’d pretty much lost 2 stone (28lbs) and hit a plateau. You can kick start a plateau in several ways, have a few rest days, then step up the exercise, or vary your calories and then reduce for a few days. I plan to lose more, but have decided not to use My Fitness Pal to do so. It taught me everything I need to know and I can count my calories in my head with the knowledge I have. Our family eats much healthier and I don’t feel the need to log it every day. You can find me on My Fitness Pal as lastkrystallos, and I may return to it one day, if those pounds creep up on me!

Vince's weightloss, before, during and after.... © Lisa Shambrook
Vince’s weightloss, before, during and after…. © Lisa Shambrook

So at the end of 365 days, I lost 2 stone (28lbs), Rayn lost 3 stone (42lbs) and so did Vince, a total of 8 stone (112lbs) between us!

We are truly shadows of our former selves who love the vitality and va va voom we’ve caught…now we get out into the fresh air and enjoy it! 

cloud chasing, clouds, wispy clouds, blue sky, the last krystallos, lisa shambrook,
Chase the Clouds © Lisa Shambrook

What are you doing to become healthier, or have you lost weight and how did you do it?   

A Purple Swathe of Bluebells – Beauty in Blue…

The Bluebell is the sweetest flower, that waves in summer air:
Its blossoms have the mightiest power to soothe my spirit’s care…
(Emily Bronte – The Bluebell)

a purple swathe of bluebells, purple swathe, beauty in blue, the last krystallos,

I promised a blog post on bluebells, an indulgence on my part as they’re my favourite flowers.

Blue, pink and white bluebells  © Lisa Shambrook

Blue, pink and white bluebells © Lisa Shambrook

I have clear memories of bluebell woodland walks when I was a little girl, running through the woods, jumping over tree roots and dancing through swathes of blue.

We didn’t live far from the Bluebell Railway, and a school trip saw me daydreaming out of the steam train window at the banks of bluebells. The verges and railway banks near my home were also strewn with the flowers during spring and I used to bring home bunches of wilting blue, pink and white bluebells for mum on the way home from school.

Bluebells never lost their appeal. That splash of colour, a carpet of blue from afar, delicate nodding bells, with barely there stripes, close up, and the air of mysticism…

Bluebells © Lisa Shambrook

Bluebells © Lisa Shambrook

Bluebells are symbolic of gratitude, humility and constancyall virtues that ring true to me – and they are closely linked to the realm of fairies, appealing to my love of all mythical and fantastical, ‘tis said that bluebells are rung to bring the fairies together.

As a child I adored Mary Cicely Barker’s Flower Fairies, my favourites were all the purple flowers, but her bluebell fairy disappointed me. I wanted her to look like the lavender fairy, so I spent many hours drawing and making up my own bluebell flower fairies. I only wish I’d kept the pictures!

It made sense that one day bluebells would burst forth within my own writing, and they did becoming a theme throughout my current series. The first book benefitted from a photoshoot in our local bluebell woods, Greencastle Woods, and became the cover of my first published novel ‘Beneath the Rainbow’. That’s my daughter in the picture, recreating a scene from the book where Freya finds herself in her own heaven. Her favourite place in her heaven is sitting amongst the bluebells, where she finds peace and calm. Bluebells also become a source of both grief and comfort for Freya’s mother, a way of showing the passing of time, and become a recurring theme in all three books.

© Lisa Shambrook

© Lisa Shambrook

In my own life, bluebells are a source of joy, heralding a season of growth and new life, and they always ignite memories encouraging gratitude and introspection.  Bluebells inspire me and make me happy, maybe it’s their colours. My favourite colour is green, closely followed by all shades of purple and lilac. Green offers calm, soothing, restful tones of growth and inspiration, and purple is the passionate, harmonious, meditative colour of creatives and the mysterious. These colours are me, so the bluebell becomes a signature flower, a representative of my own personality.

Greencastle Woods, Carmarthen © Lisa Shambrook

Greencastle Woods, Carmarthen © Lisa Shambrook

This year I have made time to walk our dog through our local bluebell woods as much as I can…enjoying the beauty, the swathes of blue and the quiet of nature. In Wales, the bluebells are at their peak, and if you can go seek out your own woods…see if you can hear the tinkling bells and fluttering of wings…

Are there bluebell woods near you? Let me know, and if I’m ever up your way in the spring, I will check them out!

beneath the rainbow, beneath the old oak, lisa shambrook, books, novels, If you want to read
‘Beneath the Rainbow’ and
‘Beneath the Old Oak’
all links are on my website.

Beneath the Rainbow:
“It’s those silly dreams that keep us alive.”
Freya won’t let death stand in her way. When she dies Freya knows she needs to move on, but is caught within her mother’s grief and the discovery of terminally ill Old Thomas. Beneath her Rainbow…Freya needs to reach her mother, wait for Old Thomas and be ready to move on.

Beneath the Old Oak:
“Turn those dreams of escape into hope…”
Meg thinks her mother is broken. Is she broken too? Meg’s life spirals out of control, and when she mirrors her Mum’s erratic behaviour, she’s terrified she’ll inherit her mother’s sins. Seeking refuge and escape, she finds solace beneath a huge, old oak. A storm descends, and Meg needs to survive devastating losses.

swathe of bluebells, bluebell woods, greencastle woods carmarthen, bluebells, the last krystallos,

Bluebells, Greencastle Woods, Carmarthen © Lisa Shambrook

Who am I, and who are you? A Guide to Being Yourself…

How to be yourself and love who you are…

who am I and who are you, a short guide to being yoursefl, bio, about me, being yourself,

I was in a good place when I began blogging, way back in February 2010, and my very first post was about being happy and being myself.

not-all-wander-lost-the-last-krystallos-tolkienIt had taken a long time to get to a comfortable place within myself. Quoted from my first post: I turned from a quiet and shy schoolgirl, into a teenager caught within a cage of responsibility, desperately trying to assert and rebel, to a young woman finding love and needing acceptance, but I had no idea who I was… I become a wife and a mother, but who was I? In my twenties, I had no idea who I was…now, two decades later, I do.

How do you know who you are?

You be yourself.

Not always easy, and it makes me recall the meme… ‘Always be yourself, unless you can be a unicorn then always be a unicorn.’ We very often try to be something/someone we’re not. The answer is in my quote above…acceptance. Accept who you are, love who you are, be a decent human being, be who you are, and make no apologies for it.

Meyer Briggs 16 personalitiesHow do you tell others who you are?

I remember trying to write bios for my author pages, blog and website, and having no idea how to describe myself. I decided to go poetic for my blog ‘About Me’, and more personal on my website, but it’s difficult to cram your entire personality into a few paragraphs. We, human beings, cannot be described in a matter of a few sentences!

When you write your bios and about me narratives, try to keep to your own style, show who you are within the words you use, and draw people in. Most of all – be yourself!

If you’re anything like me, you love exploring who you are, and I’m often distracted by a plethora of Buzzfeed quizzes! The only one that really hits the point for me, though, is the Myers Briggs test… so indulge and see what you are with one or all of these Myers Briggs versions: Personality WorldPrelude Character Analysis and 16 Personalities…enjoy!

Her sentences were icebergs - Gregory Galloway

And, so, what am I?

I am compassionate, an observer, a writer, a thinker, and a dreamer. I believe in myself. I’m an idealist and a perfectionist. I’m an artist, with an eye for beauty and elegance. I’m a loner, a star-gazer, a cloud-watcher, a wanderer, and a romantic. I’m emotion and love. I am waves upon the ocean, the wind in the trees, and the morning sun resting on your skin. I am broken and unfinished. I am whole. I am INFJ, I’m intricate, and I’m complicated. I am lost and found, and a cliché. I’m an empath, an introvert and a warrior…and, oh, so much more.

 And what are you?

Burn with the Brightest Flame and Believe in Yourself…

Dream big, and you can be anything…

dream big, burn with the brightest flame, believe in yourself,  the last krystallos,

Driving home last week, through the most beautiful welsh countryside, I felt on top of the world, truly amazing! I was thinking how blessed I and my family are living our dreams. What a great feeling…and then The Script and Will I Am came on with ‘Hall of Fame’, and I realised just how true the lyrics read.

“You can go the distance. You can run the mile. You can walk straight through hell with a smile. You can be the hero. You can get the gold. Breaking all the records they thought never could be broke.
Yeah, do it for your people, do it for your pride. How are you ever gonna know if you never even try?
Do it for your country, do it for your name, ’cause there’s gonna be a day…
When you’re standing in the hall of fame, and the world’s gonna know your name, cause you burn with the brightest flame, and the world’s gonna know your name, and you’ll be on the walls of the hall of fame…”

It’s what I’ve always believed…you can do anything, be anything…
but, you’ve got to live your dreams…

castle on a cloud, lisa shambrook, the last krystallos, clouds,
Dreaming of the castle on a cloud © Lisa Shambrook

There was a time, many years ago, when I was a shy little thing and I let my dreams escape. I didn’t believe my dreams were worth dreaming. My default was to put aside my own feelings but be sure to fix everyone else. This continued from early childhood into my teens, where I allowed someone else’s preference push me to a different path than the one I wanted, and then on into adulthood.

I became the mother with holes in my boots for a decade because I refused to buy myself a new pair, deeming everyone else more important. There’s a time and a place for others to take priority, but that should never be a permanent condition!

My family © Lisa Shambrook
My family © Lisa Shambrook

As I hit a breakdown and emerged, still snow blinded, the other side, I began to be coaxed by my wonderful husband and children into believing in myself. Now I know that I’m important too, that my dreams are worth dreaming, and more than that, they’re worth putting into action!

There’s nothing I want more for my children than for them to live their dreams…

My oldest is extremely talented and enthusiastic, and always threw caution to the wind when embracing their dreams! They lacked direction, but as they’ve matured, their direction evolves and their plans are coming to fruition. We’ve been able to instil self-belief and a confidence I only wish I’d had thirty years ago! They’ve recently had the strength to do something my younger version would have cowered from, which is to close some of their enterprises and head towards a new ambition. They stand with assurance and ability and dreams. My soul bursts with pride as I see my child grow and plan and act towards their new horizon…

My son is moving into an exceptional period of his life. He struggled greatly at school, and had some real soul searching to discover what he wanted to do once he left. He has since excelled in the work he’s done, to the point that his employer would love him to stay on at work, but he’s made a decision to explore life. He has, of his own volition, decided to serve a ministering mission for the church which we belong to. This means accepting a call to preach in a place he’s never been. He’s been called to serve in Halifax, Canada for the period of two years, and he is bursting with excitement and opportunity, and so am I…

My youngest is still at school and of an age where I struggled to be anything but a shy little bird. Exams and subjects she’s not keen on bury her, and I see her heart trying to decide where it lies. Those middle teens are years I’d not choose to return to, but they are the years where you grow, where you begin to learn who you are and where you want to go. These are the years where my daughter will begin to grow wings, to emerge from within and to want to fly. These are the years when I will refuse to stand in her way, and I will encourage with everything that I have, just as I have with her siblings, to be just who she will be. ..

© Lisa Shambrook
© Lisa Shambrook

My husband and I both waited years to begin to achieve. I lived with clipped and broken wings for many years, but I want my children to believe in themselves, to spread their wings and fly.

To do that they, and we, need to dream, and dream big!

To quote The Script again “Be students, be teachers, be politicians, be preachers, be believers, be leaders, be astronauts, be champions, be truth seekers…” and we can, we can be all of those, if we just dream and believe!

Did you get encouragement to believe in yourself?

Have you achieved what you set out to do, or is it an ongoing goal?

Share your dreams and encouragement…

Blues Buster: Lost Weekend

alley, the last krystallos,

© Lisa Shambrook

She swam amid my dreams, peered through the sunlit ripples, and I drowned within the ocean she glided through…

I woke to that fog of confusion, you know the one that suggests you had a great night, but you truly can’t remember…

I rubbed my eyes, hooked the grit of sleep from the edges of remembrance, and let my hooded lids close again. Deep within my drowsy head, she still swam, smiling at me and beckoning me through those rays of white. I tried to wake, blinking as that sunshine ray dowsed me in sharp light from the crack in the dingy curtains.

“Too bright…” I muttered, and held up my hand in front of my face. I tried opening my eyes again. My hand, my palm, was smudged in black and I struggled to focus on the ink. The words were gone, words in untidy script which meant something precious last night, were now smeared across my sweaty palm and lost forever.

Something kindled inside my heart. A spark lit up and travelled all the way to my head, igniting a memory. I smiled and my eyelids dropped again, and lines of blue blinked across the orange vision behind them. The memory deepened and I saw her again, this time her blue eyes shone like crystal, like topaz, and she leaned in close to kiss me. The black of her eyes grew like saucers and I lost myself within their cauldron.

The sound of traffic outside roused me and my aching body twitched. Sleep finally slipped away and I lazily opened my eyes. The mound in the bed beside me made me grin and I shifted slightly towards her. My hand slid back beneath the sheets and my fingers traced her spine down to the swell of rumpled bedding. She gave no reaction and I rolled closer, keen to envelope her within my post sleep amorous embrace. My hand moved to her shoulder with the intention of inviting her into my fog of desire, but when her arm slipped awkwardly away, I noticed her icy skin and I lost myself in horror.

I leaped from the bed, goose-bumps clothing my nakedness, and stared at the prostrate form I’d shared the night with. My hands, and ink-stained sweaty palms, shook as I stared at her cold, blue eyes. She stared back, but with an expression void of life.

The body that flowed like molten glass last night now lay frozen and stiff on the dirty mattress, and ice ran through my veins.

I grabbed my shorts and pulled them on, hurrying to yank up my jeans and pull my sweater over my head. My wallet sat on the bedside table, open upon chipped Formica, and I seized it knocking a small, honeyed, silver spoon onto the floor. It rang like a bell and its chime echoed across the early morning. I thrust my wallet into my back pocket and didn’t touch any of the other paraphernalia on the small table.  I shoved memories of the night before from my mind and sneaked out of the open window. I landed in nettles, but nothing stung as much as the dawn of cold realisation.

I ran as the streetlights dimmed, as the sun rose over the dustbins at the end of the alley, and as my fear swelled into a great crescendo. I ran, and I left my love song, and all its smeared memories, behind in the chill of Amsterdam’s sunrise.

(580 Words)

A chilling piece for Blues Buster over at The Tsuruoka Files…with Lloyd Cole and the Commotions song ‘Lost Weekend’ as prompt.