Blog Vacation

My Dearest Reader,

I know you lie awake at night waiting impatiently, shaking your feet in anticipation and drumming your fingers in agitation on your arm waiting for my next blog entry. Alas I must disappoint you, Dearest, for frequent blogging and constant streaming are no longer to be.

Bushlings is taking a vacation.  A break.  Blog leave.  From the Singlestream.

The painful truth behind our sad parting is this, dear Reader.  I have distracted myself daily with this blog.  My book has been left neglected near a month and is truly poorly treated despite being my favoured child.

I know you also wait in desperate anxiety for the completion of the manuscript, and so as a compromise, I will not leave you totally bereft of Bushlings’ wisdom.  Once a week I will write to you – only because I know how much you need me.  Only for you my Dearest.  A sad shadow of the rich and constant fare to which you have grown accustomed, but I go to prepare a feast for you!  Better than no fare at all, no?

All foolishness aside guys, I’m on a mission to write a book.  Every time my hand itches to write, it’s so much easier to log in here and its the blog and not the book (and not really me in the long-term) that benefits.  Until I’m caught up it’s book all week for me.  You’ll hear from me weekly – I know I just can’t help myself so I’m being realistic – and I’ll drop an update or a sample here and there.  And so, so long my friends!  Until next Friday!

Have a great weekend!


The Calling to the Poet

There is a group that meets monthly at the largest local bookstore on island.  The people who assemble come from all sorts of places with all sorts of accents and all sorts of ideas.  We share our writings and speak our truths in poetry.

In the last session there was talk around A Gathering of Old Men.  Quite the conversation starter, this little book of stories.  I had a friend recite the poem of Theophilus Brown and the power of this timbre married to the spirit of that poem brought to life the warrior of the old Obi man sent back to Africa on the ninth night.  From the performance came the discussion of ideas –  the purpose of our gifts, the power of words, the feelings of victims, the obedience to the powers that be, the pointlessness of rebellion, and revolutions of history.  The story of Salomé Ureña, the Dominican poet, was savoured.  An Ecuadorian shared her story of three poets from her hometown who were responsible for the removal of a brutal despot.  She quoted one of them saying “There is nothing harder than the softness of indifference.”   (Juan Montalvo) A Jamaican spoke of the stigma attached to the black cat and the themes of racism in societies of the Caribbean today.  A Barbadian distinguished the Jamaican story from the histories of the other islands.  A young man asked “How do you see revolution?” and an answer was given “Authenticity – each of us is responsible for our own story, to be it truthfully and boldly”.  Another answer was “Be the change you wish to see in your world.”

And it was decided.  For the month of July, to remember the American 4th and the purpose of the poet, the Floetry theme will be Revolution.

As my fellow floets turn to the task of writing, there is some inspiration to be found in what has already been written.  This is one of my new favourites.

Career change?

It amazes me the things that can be done with a few words.  Every day I open my blog dashboard and look at my stats and I am humbled.  The girl who didn’t think anyone would care much what she said has found her home in a blog that has been visited by 33 countries in 30 days.  And all I’ve done is write!

The visits are one thing, but the followers quite another.  You honour me, my dear Readers.  You really honour me.  I am inspired by your comments, driven by your suggestions, and honoured by your attention.

Today, not surprisingly for a Monday morning, I am dreaming about this being a full-time thing.  If I could write for a living I would never work, I would only live.


Flashback to today

There were more entries.  But they came to an abrupt end with this final statement.

A new lesson I’ve learned – it’s not about me. It’s about PURPOSE. And for this reason I am ending this blog. It was ill-fated to name it “Pieces of Me” – My pieces are immaterial! And so I am starting with a new direction… and a new blog.

Then began the singlestream.  The rest is well documented history.   I hope you’ve enjoyed my trip down memory lane!


To see the Flashbacks in this series, visit the links below:

Holed Up

This, my friend, is writing weather.  The words of this Book are just flying off the fingertips as rain falls.

Enjoying the lull at the moment, but another 8 inches are expected today!

View of the swimming pool between us and the swimming pool

From where I write I can see the rain water that I intend to collect to water plants for the rest of the week

Water covering the walk to the pool.  A few inches receded at this point.


My writing corner: Good view, good company, good coffee, and a funny pen that drives the dogs mad…

My dearest Readers, I am finally feeling able to talk about my book.  For followers of this blog from the very beginning, I must clarify this is not the same book that I began when we first met.  Late last year I tried my hand at some fiction writing and found myself writing more of my opinions on this blog to make up for what I REALLY wanted to say.  No, no, no it will not be fiction.  This year I began something else and have rolled down a hill like a snowball full of ideas.

Will give you my elevator speech and ask you kindly for some accountability, as I’m in a bit of a rut.  But a GOOD one.  You ever have something to write that you’ve worked out in your head and you can’t wait to start and then when you pick up the pen you don’t know where to start?  Well this happens to me EVERY TIME I pick up the pen.  I sit to write Chapter 1 and I end up spending 3,000 words worth of time down in Chapter 6.  I sit to finish Chapter 6 and instead find myself itching to be in Chapter 3.  It’s a bit insane and I’m so eager and in love with the subject matter I want to gobble it all up at once!

The result has been an overwhelm that stops me from picking up the pen because I don’t want the mind to play tug of war with 9 corners rooting for 9 separate chapters at once.  It’s tiring!  Can you imagine the little elves in my head pulling the strings on the brain fighting to win for their chapter?

 (Cue any advice from actually experienced writers – anything you can do to help me make sense of this?!)

But having actual material that I love so much means it will be getting the best of me.  Once I can quiet the elves and give them the talking stick to go one at a time.  It is something I believe in and something I have preached and had validated over and over up on my soapbox for years – the information contract.

The premise is that we are all owners and creators of information.  We are also generators of information.  But what information is mine?  And what information is yours?  And how do I handle what is mine and what you have given me that is still yours?  What are the terms of the agreements that we form about the handling of the information we share?  What should our boundaries be?  What terms should dominate the agreements of each context – the contexts of our relationships, our work places, our friendships?  How should we work with information in these places?  Very importantly, what should we do when our boundaries have been trespassed past?

In an age where information is a tool, a weapon, and the source of income for the largest magnates of the world, why would we not be conscious of our own information?

There.  Elevator speech.  Are you sold?  Is it something you would read?  Do you see anything I can do to help me get past the noise in my head?  I am SO EXCITED by this stuff!

Long weekend ahead – I have some extra time to dedicate to sorting out information – my information – for the book on information.

Have a great weekend all!