Retain Some Mystery poem and writing related blog post by S.V. Farnsworth

Retain Some Mystery poem and writing related blog post by S.V. Farnsworth

by | Sep 12, 2017 | Blog

Photo by Juan Di Nella on Unsplash
Retain Some Mystery
by S.V. Farnsworth
Cast not the windows of your soul too wide,
Lest the winds of this Earth steal the very heat from your blood.
Retain some mystery,
For more renowned than Anonymous endures The Mona Lisa.
  Novelists bare their souls in their books, but it is fiction. You and I get to know each other here, there, and everywhere. You decide if you like me from my picture, my name, or a little chit chat, but you can only grow to respect me by reading my work.
  I’m not going to over share. There are some things about me you will never know. You may guess, but I won’t tell. I am none of my characters, and in a way, I am all of them.
  My advice to anyone is to retain some mystery. Know who you are, give everything to your work without reservation, and make rules. You need to decide what you want from each avenue of communication you open. Be personable, not personal.
  Many writers take criticism of their work personally. I don’t. I take it seriously. I consider it. I improve my skills. I own my work.
  I write for myself. I edit for you. Editing takes longer, much longer because earning a reader’s respect is hard.
  I like to say the first draft is for me and the final draft is for you. Today’s publishing world is changing. It’s too easy to be out there and go nowhere. Put forth the effort to be timeless. Readers who value your work will pay for it.

  I’m writing book four of an Epic Fantasy series, Woman of the Stone in November during www.nanowrimo.org. A sample chapter of book one is available on my website https://sites.google.com/site/svfarnsworth/home/sample . I hope you enjoy reading it.
The Limo Memoir

The Limo Memoir

by | Aug 11, 2017 | Blog

Photo by Jay Castor on Unsplash
The Limo Memoir
by S.V. Farnsworth
At seventeen I graduated early from El Dorado Springs R-II High School in rural Missouri. DeVry Institute of Technology in Kansas City recruited me right away. The school was cutting edge back then. I enjoyed my Electrical Engineering Technology courses very much, though 486 computers were rip your hair out tedious to use, even when top of the line.
Spring of 1993 my parents drove me to KC, where I enrolled, moved in, and became acquainted with the Bishop at the local chapel. It was a bit too far to walk to church, so Bishop said, “I’ll arrange for Brother Moore to pick you up. Roger and his family are good people and their daughter is just a little older than you.”
We thanked the Bishop and as we left his office, my dad said, “Roger Moore is the name of an actor who played James Bond.”
Mom and Dad went home, and when Sunday rolled around I was ready and waiting right on time. My three new roommates lounged around the living room watching TV. One crisp ring of the bell came at last. I answered the door.
“Your car has arrived,” said a tall chauffeur in full dress uniform including the hat.
This got my roommates’ attention. They hopped up and raced behind me down the hallway to look out the window. The man turned and walked down the three flights of stairs as I followed him in wide-eyed silence.
When we rounded the corner, my jaw dropped. There shining in the sun was a stretch limousine. It was flawless and glossy black. The distinguished looking driver in his gray suit opened the door without a word. Mute with astonishment, I sat down in that vast, empty seat, and he drove us to the chapel.
That was Brother Moore and he was on call; hence he was dressed for the job and had the car. Each week repeated the same, though the limousines often changed colors. Sometimes they were new and sometimes they were old, but always shiny on the outside even if the upholstery occasionally sagged or had cigarette burns and frequently smelled of smoke.
I remember riding past the Piggly Wiggly. Without fail, more than one person stopped to stare, their grocery bag suspended in midair as they loaded up. People watched me go by like I was Madonna. I watched them with equal wonderment, thinking, “I’m still just me.”
At some point during those Sunday drives, I quit caring about making lots of money. I figured I’d rather earn respect than buy it. I’d rather be as clean on the inside as I was on the outside. I’d rather have God love me than the people of the world admire me. So, thank you, Bishop and Brother Moore, you changed my life.
Having matured a bit now, I look back and see that I haven’t made much money. I guess if you don’t focus on it, you don’t get it. I’m still alright with that.
Now I only ride in limos at funerals. It’s not quite the same experience. Rides like that tend to get you thinking about life, and I must conclude that I’ve accomplished many things that I treasure far more than riches.