Patricia L. Atchison

YA Fiction & Non Fiction Author

Patricia Atchison

Patricia L. Atchison is on Substack

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Welcome to my Blog!

I’ve started incorporating Blog style stories and sharing through my newsletters, and the web app: Substack

Have a peek at my writing, The Write Flavor, by clicking this link: patricialatchison.substack

It’s easier on Substack for me to get a blog piece up quickly and efficiently… AND… I can share it with you through newsletter sign-ups (SEE BELOW). You never have to miss a blog post or story, (even chapters of new works) from me again.

I like the idea of Substack as all the background technology in getting the newsletters out is taken care of. It makes my work of sharing my creativity much easier.

Substack is easy for readers to find my writing by subscribing right within the article = readers never have to miss another blog post.

I hope to see you here: patricialatchison.substack

Thank you, Patricia

A Year in The Life of a Writer

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Blogging throughout the year…pfft
Updating my author website… pfft
Social Media Updates… I did a few… pfft
Writing… yess!Patricia on the Golf Course

I can’t believe a year ago I was writing my thoughts during the start of Covid, and here we are still in the same mess. Vaccines have been rolling out; the number of cases has risen throughout many variants. Life with Covid continues, and people struggle to find normalcy with the pandemic issues.

However, I’m grateful to be steps ahead in my writing endeavors. I decided to sink myself into a writing project. Lockdowns forced me into my home, and the writer in me said, “No more excuses.” Over summer last year, I outlined a trilogy, but have since revamped it to a duology. I hope the pandemic lockdowns don’t continue that long! I plotted and created characters, wrote my synopsis and chapter outlines.

I joined National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and sat down for the month of November and completed my young adult novel – book one. Then came the mess, as I was writing without editing. I spent several months on the editing process, then sent the manuscript to beta readers, and editing again. I’m unfortunately not a three-times-editing-and-we’re-done kind of writer. I really play with the words to make sure it reads well.

That brought me to camping season this year. I’ll admit it’s tough working when golfing and camping for four and a half months. But I managed get some work done, and outlined book two, wrote the first half of the books chapter outlines, and the first five chapters (this time editing as I go).

I’m currently reviewing the first book to ensure all beta reader changes are addressed – the difficult suggestions (in my mind’s eye) I’ve put off for awhile. I’ll then find an editor, cover designer and carry on with writing book two and finishing it. Hopefully before next years camping season!

Now, with the year come and gone, my blog and website needs updating, social media and promotion for my, Today I Am… an Empowering Journal Back to Self, need to be continued as does my writing, editing, etc.

The work never ends. Stay tune for updates as I get closer to publication of my Bridge Across Time Duology, a teen and young adult light fantasy and romance.

Hopefully the golf courses close soon so I can get back at it… the writing that is… pfft.

Finding My Way Back to Gratitude

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With what 2020 has brought the world in changes and loss with the COVID-19 Pandemic, I feel like I am on a magic carpet ride. The magic has dwindled fast, and now I’m just floating around hanging on tight, struggling to land safely without injury or damage. Free Png Carpet Png Images Transparent - Magic Carpet Clipart@pikpng.com

Before being in the throes of lock down, I consciously practiced gratitude daily. I knew many joyful and happy moments, but as the days turn into months, I’m floating through time. More anger, resentment, and anxiety hit me when I least expect it. I wake up tired and anxious and forge through the day, realizing at some point I’ve not written in my gratitude journal. My joyful moments are disappearing with the days and months.

When not writing my gratitude daily, I’ve come to understand that it is a necessary practice. It keeps me centered and focused. I discover that even with the community and world changes, there is something to be grateful for every day. Writing it down reminds me of what it is.

In bed at night, I go over in my mind the things in life I am grateful for, but putting the words on paper seals it in my subconscious. I recognize that five minutes in the morning, writing three Today I Am statements, can bring instant gratification and peace. This leads to more joyful moments in the day.

Like exercise, if I don’t get enough movement in a day, I feel sluggish and slow, ignoring gratitude in my day takes away from my happiness.

Today I am grateful for:

Life itself – breathing healthy, clean air, to have the lung capacity to take my next breath.

The summer heat – it won’t last, and we’ll be in the throes of a winter storm before we know it.

Electricity and running water – (I’ve been reading a lot of post-apocalyptic books recently – once electricity is gone – nothing works!).

Music – it soothes my soul, and I can dance to it.

Movement – it’s necessary for my wellbeing. (Side note: just this morning I twisted the wrong way and put my lower back out – trust me movement is vital).

Anyone in the medical and healing professions, any modality – you have my complete gratitude for all you do.

 

It’s a small list, but I’ll stop here, realizing that there is oh so much to be grateful for at any moment.

If you want to try the daily practice of writing gratitude, be sure to purchase my journal, Today I Am… an Empowering Journal Back To Self. The book features many creative methods to engage your mind and spirit toward gratitude, positivity, light, and love.

Have a beautiful day! I’m grateful for you spending time with my blog and the musings within.

The Attic

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(Playing with a five-minute sprint writing technique, this is a short piece of FICTION I wrote.)

As I climbed up into the stuffy attic, a billowing fog of dust rose and tickled my nose, making me sneeze. A circa 1800’s setting greeted me, sepia-toned, with huge pirate-like treasure chests haphazardly placed throughout the enclosed space. Memories rose, and my heart fluttered with intense feelings of longing. This space somehow reminded me of the childhood I never had.

My index finger traced the etchings on one of the wooden chests. I tugged at the latch and flipped the solid lid open. It creaked with argument after being closed for so many years. A mohair teddy bear and antique doll lay on top of a stack of colourful checkered tablecloths and quilted bedding.

When I placed my hand on the teddy bear, a beam of sunlight shone through the attic window. A vignette played before my eyes showing a young woman sitting on a rocking chair. A little girl sat on her lap, her tiny head rested against her Mother’s chest. The light reflected against the soft blond curls framing the woman’s round face. She read a dog-eared book to the child whose little fingers fidgeted with the edge of the stained apron her Mother wore. I wiped the wetness from my eyes before the tears streaked down my cheeks. The scene in front of me represented everything I wanted from a mother, but not what I received growing up.

Shifting my gaze, I noticed an antique dresser standing behind the chest. The mirror on top of it, crusted with dust, invited me over for a closer look. I swiped across the glass to remove some of the grime. My reflection showed an adult with greying hair and a face that wore wrinkles from frowning too much throughout life. Beside me stood myself as a little girl, her reflection one of innocence and youth. I slid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to my side. She needed the love that I could offer now because she never had it growing up.

While sunlight played across our features, we stared into the mirror, mourning that which we never received.

Giving Birth to New Ideas – What-If

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An author is always flush with ideas, but it’s challenging to refine those ideas into something that will form a piece of work. I liken starting a story project as being similar to conception. I first must decide I want to start a new story or book from some idea floating in my mind, but sitting down and flushing the design out and giving a voice to it takes quite the effort. Many authors use a technique called, “What if.”

See if you can guess what books these statements might belong to:

What if a boy discovers he has magical powers and goes to Wizarding School?

What if a high school girl falls in love with a Vampire?

What if a woman touches a stone, and time travels to the 1700s?

What if,

There is a character who is called or motivated to do something? What obstacles does he have to overcome or challenge to accomplish his task? What is the resolution? Has he grown or changed in any way?

Where I’m at today, is scribbling down ‘what if’ statements for a YA audience. I want to see if something reaches out and tugs at my creative spirit. I’ve come up with one idea. Now that the moment of conception has arrived, I must nurture and allow this idea to grow into something that comes alive. Using creative practices, I’ll determine character profiles, plot, settings, and dialogue. Next, I’ll write my outline and synopsis, and give my idea a title. Finally, my story will take shape as I write each chapter and do multiple edits, which could take months, if not years (hopefully not), before the birthing of ‘what if’ becomes a tangible product.

What if a writer comes up with a great idea, and it becomes a bestseller?

Sequestered – But Not Hiding

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San Diego Wave, photo by Patricia L. Atchison I understand daily events in my life can’t be organized, planned, nor managed at this time.

Outside forces intervene, a storm over the water, where ripples become white-capped waves crashing against a rocky shore.

Unable to control this storm, I seek shelter and comfort within the confines of a loving home, watching it swirl around me.

Thankful I’m not out in the midst of it, I think of those who are.

They’ve no choice but to bounce about, facing one wave, then the next.

Never knowing when the biggest one will hit and overtake, tipping them out into the vast ocean, fighting for their lives, and the lives others.

I’m not confined, though sequestered, but not hiding.

Merely being, I’m unable to control and manage.

I am doing my part to stay out of the storm and waiting for it to pass over.

Once it dissipates, I can go outside again and bask in the sunshine.

Ready to organize, plan, and manage daily events, carrying on with life’s familiar once more.

(Author’s note: my voice on #Covid_19 and self-isolating.)