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Stephen King’s “What Writing Is”

On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft    “What Writing Is” I have written an article in another Blog summarizing several sections in Stephen King's book. This article is about another section of his intriguing book. Stephen King’s “What Writing Is” 4. What Writing Is —pp.103-107 Stephen King suggests: “Telepathy, of course.” Writing is telepathy. Telepathy is defined as “the transmission of information from one person to another without using any of our known sensory channels or physical interaction.” In modern fiction and science fiction, many superheroes and super-villains are endowed with telepathic abilities. The term was coined in 1882 by the classical scholar Frederic W. H. Myers, a founder of the Society for Psychical Research, and has remained more popular than the earlier expression thought-transference. (Wikipedia) Writing about telepathy, King suggests that we are “downstream on the time-line”. We are in the here-and-now and as he writes from the past, he

Christmas Day is here!

Christmas Day is here! Christmas toys assemble, little armies in strict array Christmas days tremble with memory's magic display Christmas ways resemble lost youth's joyous play Christmas snow remembers forgotten childhood days Christmas tinsel twinkles with the blinking colored lights Christmas memories sparkle in the yellow candlelight  Christmas tears sprinkle on the lonely winter nights Christmas years dwindle as they amble out of sight Christmas morn' sends Santa down the warm chimley, there Christmas morn' brings Jesus in the cold wood manger, dear Christmas morn' rings soundly, filled with festive cheer Christmas morn' sings loudly: Christmas Day is here! © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Merry Christmas Card:  By Souvenir Post Card Company, New York (eBay front back) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons Soldier Image:  Brownie in Christmas Land by Marian Jack, 1922 via open clipar

old friends

old friends searched online for former friends surprised to see untimely ends friends, their spouses, moms and dads sad to see the deaths they had the inexorable tick and tock of time, leads us all to fields, sublime through twisting, turning hands of fate, soon we'll all be known as "late" years roll on, time is passed no one knows how long it lasts each life is counted out by days as friends we oft go separate ways friend's faces show the lines of age as each one turns his separate page fools fleeting time waits for no man eighty years our lives may span so count your days with special care for who knows how, who knows where our beating hearts will one day stop find old friends before they drop © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Image adapted:  By SDRandCo via morguefile.com