Look, You Just Can’t Make This Up

Posted on March 4, 2014 by R. Richardsson

The shining star of this week has been the completion of the book cover for my upcoming novel; J.R. van Helsing. I’m extremely pleased with the work of my artist, not that I haven’t been before, and am raring to spend some time away from my book to create a book trailer for it! For the last two days, I have been scouring the internet for royalty free goodies that will be a fit for what I have in mind.

Yes, this cover has been the shining star over a week that has had the worst luck my family has seen in quite some time.

You know how they say that bad things happen in threes, right? Yeah… We’re one shy of doubling that.

The first happened when my youngest boy was running through the house with a laundry basket over his head and he ran into one of our largest windows. No, he wasn’t hurt! Thank goodness! But he made very good use of that one second we took our eyes off of him. Quotes to replace it have been in the five hundred-dollar (plus) range.

The second happened that very same night. While washing the dishes from dinner, my oldest dropped a ceramic bowl into the sink, shattering it. Some of the smaller pieces fell into the garbage disposal, unbeknownst to her at the time, and whatever happened when it was next ran has assured that it will run no more. Another hundred dollars in repairs.

A couple of days later, while exiting my van upon returning home from work, I dropped my cell phone. Now… This isn’t anything I haven’t done before. I have it in a protective case to help prevent any damage! However, this time I won the lottery. It landed on the bottom right corner, and for some reason that physics has yet to explain, the screen exploded. Eight hundred-dollar phone, however, my protection plan will replace it. I’m still waiting on it to get to my local sales team. Yes, it’s good news, but my family depends upon me having this communication link.

Last night, as I was on my way home from work, my van became possessed by the spirit of Christine, and tried to defeat me by way of acceleration. For some inexplicable reason, my van began to slowly accelerate and it would not stop! My pedal was not stuck, nor was there anything keeping it down. My brakes still worked. Again, thank goodness, because it could have gotten very ugly, very fast! (No pun intended.)

Finally, and the most painful of this unholy quintuple, I came home to find my wife in tears. At some point between our room and the kitchen, her wedding ring decided that it was Harry Houdini in a past life, that is, if inanimate objects could be animate in a past life!

So. That happened.

I’m not usually the type of guy to air out his woes for the world to see, but this is something I had to get off of my chest. Somewhere along the way, one of us crossed the path of a black cat. We must have broken a mirror. Hell, I’m apt to believe that I’ve roused the ancient wrath of God for crying out loud!

Perhaps by saying it, letting others see this series of unfortunate events, I can break this chain of bad luck. Maybe my words will touch a reader who had been ‘touched’, (in a holy, good luck kind of way and not the creepy kind of way) and some of their good fortune will pay forward to us? Yeah I’m reaching, but a guy can dream, right?

I know there are others less fortunate than we. Some hail from broken homes, others battle with illnesses that no person should have to deal with. Would I give all of my woes for just one? I guess, no. In retrospect material things are just that. Broken or lost items can be fixed or replaced and we’ve had to go without a lot of things over the years, so what’s a few more?

I’m not the most religious man.

But you already knew that, right? Sure you do. I’m willing to bet that you’ve read some of my work by now?

As I was saying; I’m not the most religious man, but I suppose I should feel somewhat honored. They say that ‘He’ never puts more on a person’s shoulders than they can bear. Well, considering the cross we already carry, and now having these five vultures perched upon it, I’m led to believe that ‘He’ must think very highly of us.

Three Sixty-Five, or Thereabouts

Posted on March 4, 2014 by R. Richardsson

I’ve put some serious thought into whether or not I was going to write this post. I wondered if it really mattered in the grand scheme of things. I see these posts all the time and I feel like I should share how much I have grown since creating this blogsite, but I truly wonder. Have I grown? Has utilizing this form of media been beneficial?

I honestly can’t answer these questions myself. I won’t allow my ego to step far enough forward for it to happen. These are questions best left to my friends, my fans and the casual readers who return here from time to time. Rather than spend the next few lines smothering you with things like; “I’ve had so much fun over the last year,” or, “I never would have thought about how good this blog would be for my writing,” I’m going to do something a little different.

I want to thank you.

Thank you for reading my posts. Granted, it’s not very often I write in this form, I do appreciate that you listen when I’m speaking my mind.

Thank you for reading my stories. I’ve had quite a few positive comments on my writing, and have made some very special friends over the course of this journey. I’ve appreciated your insights, I appreciate the wisdom you share and when I’m not buried in deadlines with my books, I vow to spend more time reading your work as well.

Not that I don’t. I try to read the stories, blog posts, reviews, (etc.) each and every day! In the very least, I ‘like’ your work so that you know I stopped by! And, little do you know, I occasionally promote your more interesting pieces on my various social media platforms. >:) It’s just that the growing list of bloggers I follow has created a waterfall of posts for me to sort through each day, and sometimes I only have enough time to read through a dozen of them before having to move on to my next task.

I’ve grown quite the collection in this old burial grounds. I gain new mourners every week. Many of the empty plots have become filled with the stories I’ve resurrected and there are many more waiting for those to come. I may not always show my appreciation immediately, but I make my rounds. A good undertaker always does, doesn’t he? And though some of my plots are rough around the edges, so too do I find the time to clean them up from time to time.

By my count, there are now (as of this post) one hundred and two mourners who have visited or regularly visit. Some of you are quite lively! Others? Others have faded back into the lands of reality, leaving their own blogsites untended and overgrown. I’ve enjoyed meeting each and every one of you, and I look forward to meeting those who venture here in the future. While you may not like some of the creatures I bring to life in these lonely old plots, you can always count on something new to ‘popping’ up from Beneath The Headstone.

To Slay A Troll

Posted on February 22, 2014 by R. Richardsson

“There’s no place out there for graft, or greed, or lies, or compromise with human liberties…” Jefferson Smith, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

They come in many forms and yet, they are all one in the same. We call them critics in film, hecklers in comedy, negative reviews on our books but it comes to what we should call them, it boils down to one word; troll.

It’s hard not to be affected by their words. We’re pouring our hearts and souls into our work. Some of us are truly gifted and are able to do this with little effort, but the majority of us labor over our little niche in creativity. No matter the ease of which we get there, all it takes are the words of one troll to break us down.

Why do we let it get to us so easily? We’re willing to give up everything for our passions, to sacrifice every comfort, and in some cases the ones who mean the most to us, in order to fulfill the desire to create. Hours slip by, and in some cases, days, as we build our routines, write our breakthrough novels and create our next masterpieces. We’re THAT dedicated to our art that we don’t even notice.

And yet, when that first criticism arrives, it’s as if we’ve been stabbed in the heart. We’re standing on the middle of the bridge with our aspirations behind us, our dreams ahead of us and we’re putting our gem on display when ‘it’ happens. ;-( I know, right?

We’re mortally wounded, or so we think. The troll has leapt upon the bridge, taken our shining gem and then plunged it directly into our meaty ticker. We’ve fallen to our knees. We can feel our very essence pouring onto the unforgiving stone beneath us and for that brief moment we wonder if we’re going to survive the encounter.

I assure you, you can and you will. You’ve taken a piece of that infinite and immortal soul of yours to create this new thing, this piece of art. You’ve poured gallons of your hearts love sauce onto it, coating it until the material became saturated. It’s yours, Dr. Frankenstein. You created it. It LIVES!

Get back to your feet, actor! Arise, author! Stand and remove the stain left upon you by this beastie!

What you have created, what you have labored over with love and soul CANNOT be destroyed by the words of another. They try because they are jealous. They attack because they cannot create this beautiful thing that you have. They lash out, but because you possess something they can only ever dream of achieving!

Stand up and brandish your gem! Let not the words of the troll sting you, for they are but words. These creatures exist only to inflict pain upon others. They thrive upon hate, even when they don’t understand what it is they are attacking, for they are but children lost in an adult’s playground.

You may think it’s hard to find your footing once more, but you need only but remember what you have done to get here. You arrived on this bridge for a reason. You are here to show the world beneath you the treasure born of your hands. Let the troll come forth I say! Let them fling their measly weapons at you! And when they do, allow your creation room to breath. Give the troll it’s fair chance, and when it fails so miserably? Ask it if it would like to sit down now.

Chins up, artists!

Your determination brought you here. You’ve labored, you’ve sacrificed and you have suffered worse things than what the troll can inflict upon you.

——

This is for those of us who have received a negative review, who have been heckled while performing our routines and for those who find the occasional negative criticism when we’ve given it our all.