Eva Pasco's Blog - Posts Tagged "relaxation"

In my capacity as an Indie author, I take comfort in the daily routines that come with the territory. However, the agenda makes demands on one’s cognition and time: writing, editing, marketing, maintaining a presence on social media, reading and reviewing books (for me—those written by other Indies).

There comes a time when I need to escape the confines of my office. A native of Rhode Island, “The Ocean State,” bordered by the Atlantic Ocean to the south, and large bays and inlets to the east, offers a vast horizon for a change of scenery.

Without planning an itinerary to spend the day in Newport, or hop a ferry to Block Island, all I have to do is accelerate along the coastal route and choose my place in the sun by the sea in a matter of minutes.

While I fancy sitting on an Adirondack chair facing the ocean, my canvas camp chair will do in a pinch. After all, it’s not the chair that transports you to your state of bliss—it’s the scenery. The beach has always been my preferred escape hatch for the hypnotic rhythm of the waves and the serenade of seagull cries.

On my turf, a sanctuary unto itself for a brief interlude, intrusive thoughts from my characters are not allowed.

*Where are you off to?

makes -------- a dull person.

A scene from The Shining comes to mind where Wendy takes a gander at the typewritten manuscript her husband, Jack, has been working on for weeks. Gobsmacked, she reels in horror upon discovering every single page covered with thousands of iterations of the aforementioned proverb!

True Confession:

An Indie author who works hard to perfect my craft within the meager time available each day, I don’t conquer nearly as much territorial white space as Jack Torrance. Then, again, I don’t walk away from each session without feeling a sense of accomplishment on ground covered via plot progression, character development, and clever turns of phrase.

I know better than to “work the room” if I’m stymied or firing blanks. That usually happens when I’m tired, predisposing me to slur my words like a nonsensical drunk.

Turnabout is fair play:

Self-disciplined, industrious, and organized out of necessity, due to demands in life away from the keyboard—even I recognize when it’s time to retaliate by prioritizing play. I’m gearing up for a few vacation days with family. I plan on frequenting the nearby shore to take in the scenery.

After all:

“The only difference between a rut and a grave are the dimensions.” Ellen Glasgow

Mind over matter: Every once in a while it behooves us to stray from well-worn, deliberate paths and detour to those roads less traveled.

I’m delving into those moments that take us away from where we are in our present frame of mind. Moments, which for no explicable reason, hold us in an abeyance of peace and tranquility:

Perhaps it’s the hypnotic billowing of white curtains on a breezy, summer day which transports our mind miles away.

Or, sitting on a porch and gazing into oblivion.

One of my most memorable long-drawn moments occurred many years ago watching the raising of the drawbridge over the Mystic River Bascule Bridge in Connecticut. The famous drawbridge built in 1922 connects the Groton side of Mystic with the Stonington side. It’s raised to allow boat traffic at 40 minutes past the hour from 7:40 a.m. to 6:40 p.m. from May 1st to October 31st.

Abutting the bridge is Mystic Drawbridge Ice Cream where I’d purchased a sugar cone of Kahlua Mocha Fudge and savored it while watching the raising of the drawbridge. During those long-drawn moments, maritime motion and my own superfluous thoughts were suspended in time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IUwH...

In my capacity of a writer, I must set aside extraneous thoughts so as not to detract from the literary world I’m creating. And, as painstaking as I find the task, I must fabricate long-drawn moments inside the headspace of my characters for them to seem as real as you and me. I’m currently lowering the drawbridge on Chapter 76 of my Contemporary work in progress.

*May you find time to stretch your imagination and rejuvenate during long-drawn moments which come your way.

My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.

Eva’s Authors Den Page:
https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w

Last Friday on June 2nd, all things were in accordance to my planetary alignment for foraging on the beach: Sabin Point’s tide at .8 feet @ 11:00 A.M., my time of arrival, and ebbing to .2 feet by 12:30 P.M., my time of departure; temperature hovering in the 70s at the shore; sunshine and a light breeze.

Bob, bob, bobbin’ along I went along the stretch of beach collecting nature’s bounty: a variety of seashells; obsidian—shiny, black, volcanic glass; assorted pieces of sea glass.

Having filled my satchel, I prepared to leave.

Fob, fob, fobbin’ along with the key fob, I could not for the life of me, unlock the door on my vehicle. Panic set in. All keyed up, I sat on one of the benches overlooking the ocean and called for roadside assistance. While engaged in conversation, I “fobbed” the unlock function on the key fob. Lo and behold, it worked, so I cancelled the call.

Of course, somewhat calmer returning to my vehicle, I discovered what I’d overlooked due to relying on a remote device—I could have unlocked the door on the driver’s side with the key itself.

Ruh-roh!

Conducting preliminary research, I’ve learned the battery in a key fob lasts 3 to 4 years at best. This has prompted me to replace the battery in order to avoid another rude awakening when I least expect it. The store clerk said the battery’s shelf life was more like 2 to 3 years, depending on usage.

In the capacity of a writer, I’m bob, bob, bobbin’ along drafting Chapter 35 (622 words thus far) of my Contemporary work in progress.

*When it comes down to safeguarding our well-being, may each of us build in periods of relaxation to recharge our batteries.

My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.

Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco