Voices of the Ribbons©.

For the love of what we do By Writer Scarred oak desk, clunky manual typewriter with sticky keys, an over-flowing ashtray and a half-full glass of red or tumbler of whiskey. Sheaves of paper stacked in haphazard piles. Yellowed notes and scrunched discards. And the writer; hunch-backed in overcoat, beanie and scarf, red-nosed, and red fingertips pounding at the keys from within moth-eaten fingerless gloves. A half-eaten sandwich standing discarded alongside a cold cup of coffee. The cliché of the impoverished and determined author barely scraping by on dreams and determination. Is it that far removed from the reality? No dream comes for free. Whether it’s an idol trying to make debut or an athlete aiming for a medal, an entrepeneur striving for recognition or an artist seeking recognition; where there’s a dream, there’s a price to pay. Whatever the goal, mountain figurative or literal, it doesn’t come without the climb.   Nobody ever woke up a winner on thei

Four-by-four upside the head By Tai There’s a saying, or more of a parable, perhaps, by which I define many of my own personal life-changing moments. I’m not entirely sure where it came from or who to attribute it to but it doesn’t matter. It’s not mine. I simply choose to own it. When the Universe wishes to get your attention, it begins by throwing pebbles. If the pebbles bounce off unnoticed, it throws stones. When stones don’t work, it throws rocks. When the rocks still don’t work, it hurls a boulder or two. And finally, if you’re still refusing to pay attention, it’ll smack you right upside the head with a length of four-by-four and, if you’re still standing afterward, maybe you’ll be listening then. Of course, pebbles, stones, and rocks are generally easier to acknowledge in hindsight. That I should have seen it coming revelation we have afterward . But when we’re truly self-aware and honest, it becomes easier and easier to catch things at the pebble-phase, whe

Into the Maze By Tai Despite the title, this is intended as an insight into some of my current thoughts on writing, brought about by my decision to re-write an entire already-accepted manuscript recently returned to me as a First Proof by my publishers. Now, on the surface, I could simply make a few adjustments, take into account the very astute observations my (brilliant) editor made, and be done with it. BUT, looking at it and reading it through, I realized a few things. First and foremost, I wrote Between Dusk and Dawn (at that time under the WT of Knight Takes King ) back in 2016 AND in a since unequaled ten days. Seventy thousand words. Ten days. What I refer to as ‘stream of consciousness’ writing, which has its place, but only for the purposes of a first draft and, preferably, with a predetermined destination in mind. Secondly, I’ve come a VERY long way since that time nearly four years ago and my work and style have changed dramatically. Not my ‘voic

Broken Mirrors By Tai We are not the product of our past but the product of our choices. It is ok to embrace the past but not to permit it to dictate who we become. Even the child of our past deserves to be embraced and the voiceless child is NOT to blame. These are things it is easy to accept in a clinical, detached, logical way and yet so much harder to accept and apply to reality. Our reality, for ourselves personally. Or at least, this is how I perceive it. True, it could have been worse. It can ALWAYS be worse. The possibility or acceptance of worse does NOT, however, detract from the fact that our pasts have an effect on who we become. However, it’s what we do with our past that determines who we permit ourselves to become. One of the few clear memories I have of my childhood is of my father-person coming to me after he’d beaten me or abused me or fought with me in whatever way he was given to on the day. He’d sit beside me on my bed and say, “I’m s