Heaven, Purgatory and Hell

Purgatory design

No matter what, the sun will rise and another day goes forth. There are times we are stuck in purgatory between Heaven and Hell, with decisions, choices, and life in general. It’s hard to think about tomorrow when the past can’t move forward.

Routine as the days may become we have to decide if purgatory is a place, we want to be. Do we stand still and let the past swallow our feet like the sand under a wave? Or, do we step forward and look into the sunset and make the choice of tomorrow? A new day, a better day. We don’t have to drag the past into the future. Every minute of every day is a choice to breathe, a choice to live and make changes to our lives. It’s a new beginning to the end.

It doesn’t take money, it doesn’t take friends or family or a new job. It takes the decision to move forward on your own, in your own way and mind.

The most successful people are the ones that make the change that matter the most to themselves. YOU.

It’s all in the Words of Inspiration

     Very touched. When you write a story, you have no idea what kind of impact it will have on another person’s life. When I wrote my the book The Eye of Lies,  I not only wrote about the destruction of one girls life, but I wrote the inspiration of strength. Faith, and willingness to overcome the wicked of evils. To build a better life from abuse.

Self-worth is more powerful than anything else is in the world. The book has only been out for a few months and I’ve gotten great feedback from people who had been in the shoes of my character. They let the hurt in their life keep them at their lows until they read about a girl who didn’t. It makes me so proud knowing that I, who only thought I wrote a story, inspired other people through the words of a book, to become stronger and grab that strength to grow. Life is about choices, sometimes the choices are made for you and no matter how hard you try to change them, you are controlled by others. It doesn’t have to be that way. It’s up to you.

 

The Five Senses of Murder and the fly on the wall

When I write a story and set the scene for the reader, I put five elements into the description. The five senses, it’s what I was taught and I feel that it works really well, giving the reader a sense of being in the story.

Besides writing with emotions, I want them to smell, hear, taste, feel, and see what I do. What my characters do.

In my book The Eye of Lies, one of the best feedbacks I have received is that the readers all said they felt like they were there, connected to the characters, and felt as if they were in the same place. Even one reader said she could smell the cigarette smoke and taste the bitterness of the stale aroma.

Here’s an example of using the five senses; As Julie walked into the living room, she noticed the particles of dust fluttering through the sunbeam from the open curtain (sight). The scamper of a tiny mouse startled her (hearing), the air thick (feel), and the scent of rotted flesh gagged her reflex (smell and taste). Swallowing hard she turned to leave the room.

It depends on the story to the detail of what I’d  want to add. I could have added the cigarette burned chair (sight, smell, texture) or the urine-stained rug or blood splattered decayed walls. I’ve used my daughter as my ‘tester’ for descriptions that I might question myself about. And there has been times when she said, “Nope just not feeling it.” So I’ll redo until she can place herself in the scene.

The same with character development. As an illustrator, I have to have the visual of somebody else’s vision, so this works well when I talk about a character. I want the same ‘feel’ for my reader but at the same time let them use their own imagination to what a character might be like.

From page 57 of The Eye of Lies—

Doctor Scott Helms, a distinguished professional therapist in his sixties, with perfectly styled salt, and peppered hair had the same southern charm as Latisha.

He leaned forward; his broad shoulders cast a large shadow against the wall behind him, his gaze fixed upon me. I looked past him, focused on his shadow, large and gray it rose above the filing cabinets, a small picture frame sat empty.  The office was quiet, cold, and bare, only a few documents hung in plain frames. The black leather couch sat opposite of the small window; its heavy drapes blocked out the world.

His office wasn’t glamorous. It didn’t reflect his rich taste in suits and shoes.  His glasses perfectly balanced on the tip of his nose. His eyes, sweet chocolate, a glimmer of shine showed his kindness. The fresh scent of his after-shave was like an aphrodisiac; it pulled me in, and warmed my skin.

He sat across from me and listened to every word. His pen clutched tightly in his hand, and a pad of paper balanced across his knee, he was a tall man with a straight posture, and his wingback chair molded to his physique. (I put in his size, style of clothing and hair but no skin tone or facial features. His office was cold, quiet, and bare, giving a feel of emptiness and unsettling. Leather usually has a smell. His description gives the senses that he’s a well-dressed, kind person but his office not so much which then brings a twist to the story and makes you wonder, why would this man who looks and dresses wealthy have such an office so cold, bare and empty?

I become that fly on the wall when telling the story of murder and mystery.

The Eye of Lies

T. Wharton Johnson

When I began to write The Eye of Lies I had no real plan of what the story was going to be like. For more than twenty years I had the same dream night after night. For some reason the dream just stopped in my early twenties. But it still haunted me. I often thought of the dream and wondered what it meant, who were the people in it and why I’d dreamt such terrible dreams. Still today at the age of fifty I have night terrors about murder and people I don’t know. So when I was asked to write a short story the only thing I could think of was my dream. So there it began, the root of my first novel. As days passed by and into weeks and months I realized I wrote the story I needed to read, the story of strength from a girl whose…

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The Eye of Lies

When I began to write The Eye of Lies I had no real plan of what the story was going to be like. For more than twenty years I had the same dream night after night. For some reason the dream just stopped in my early twenties. But it still haunted me. I often thought of the dream and wondered what it meant, who were the people in it and why I’d dreamt such terrible dreams. Still today at the age of fifty I have night terrors about murder and people I don’t know. So when I was asked to write a short story the only thing I could think of was my dream. So there it began, the root of my first novel. As days passed by and into weeks and months I realized I wrote the story I needed to read, the story of strength from a girl whose dreams were haunting her. Unlike me, she found a resolution and the truth behind the secrets a town had hidden from her.

The Eye of Lies Flier with links

Earlier this month I posted the first chapter ~ Christmas~ from The Eye of Lies on my blog. Titled – A memory of Christmas. If you’re interested in reading what happened to the little girl whose parents were killed, and the girl whose dreams haunt her waking hours, you can download the book for free from Amazon.

www.amazon.com/author/twhartonjohnson

Or you can preview the first two chapters at Createspace before you download.

www.createspace.com/Preview/1157114