Welcome to my blog Upstate Girl, (a.k.a Follow Your Bliss Part II), I am an independently published author. This blog is all about writing and the stuff that inspires me to write, the joys and obstacles that come along with the writer's life, and my fascination with the psychology of people and what makes them tick...the human condition, as is...and my love for words, playing with them and making sense of them...and I throw in a few photos from my acre of the world just to make things pretty...sometimes there are things I have no words for, only pictures will do.

*Copyright notice* All photos, writing, and artwork are mine (
© Laura J. Wellner), unless otherwise noted, please be a peach, if you'd like to use my work for a project or you just love it and must have it, message me and we'll work out the details...it's simple...JUST ASK, please.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

The "Suchthings"

From page five in chapter one of Dusty Waters, a Ghost Story by Laura J. W. Ryan (Field Stone Press, 2009)

...He never knew what hit him; that fact was plain on his face when I saw him still sitting there after the body was long gone.

For three years after Dad’s death, his ghost remained seated at the kitchen table, puzzling over why no one but me could see him; being just a little shit at the time, I didn’t have the verbal tools to explain—or to comfort. Of course, no one believed me, because “there are no such things as ghosts”—or so I’ve been told. Only Dad would have believed me if he were alive and could come to my defense. So, I identified his classification as a "such thing"—I separate the words now, but at the time, it was one word suchthing. It’s kinda funny how a child’s mind processes what they are told; it’s dreamlike, words have a visual substance to them—I tried to picture their meaning—at least, what I thought they meant in context with the feeling expressed by the speaker.

I knew Dad was dead—his body dead and buried, but as a suchthing, he was still there, only I could see him. I never really mourned losing him, because I hadn’t really lost him, just the part of him that I could touch....

This is my “little big” book...she’s a special “girl” to me, not just because she became the “first born” in this project that I’ve set out to do (the project objective is “being read”), but she simply means a lot to me in terms of my vision as a writer...she’s exactly the book I wanted her to be...a ghost story that is as much about life as it is about death. A girl born with a gift, seeing ghosts and communicating with them, and the consequences of that gift...coping with the burden of it (instead of the “boo” of it.) 

There’s also a dragon that lives under her bed...and that’s all I’ll say because I don’t want to spoil it.

A writer carries around “stuff” inside their heads for years before doing something about any of it...I started writing it all down in 1999...much of what came out during that time splintered off to become five separate stories, all of them overlap as the characters are all acquainted with one another in some form, sometimes briefly, sometimes for a lifetime...I write with the idea that there’s more than one side to every story and people influence one another for good or bad. (Dusty Waters is the only ghost story in the lot, but that doesn't mean I won't revisit Dusty and Tanglewood again.)

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by it, the discipline and time investment involved in writing, editing, designing, and finally putting it out there to be read. It’s worth it.

Drinking from the Fishbowl is shaping up...I'm going through the usual see-saw of doubt and certainty that is typical at this stage, so I know I'm getting close to the end of this part of the process. I'm working out in my head how I want it to "look" when I get to the design stage...the cover and content both...but I'm getting ahead of myself, I'm still polishing the beauty until she shines...

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