Writing is music to me. I particularly love when you can all but taste the word, when it becomes a symphony or prelude, skipping across the tongue like pebbles on waves.
As I’ve written this new book, I find myself lingering on certain words, certain phrases. These are a few of my favorites:
Trundle. Scuttle. Scrawling. Turrets. Burst. Sputter. Disintegrate.
Background from magerempowerment.com
Let me take a few minutes to share a sneak preview with you: some of my favorite word-creations from my new book Boy Talk. These aren’t the action-packed pieces, rather they’re the descriptions that become music to me.
Love came into my life with pomp and blare, exactly the way I imagined it would: The swirling snow during our first deep hug, the delicious darkness as we lay stargazing into each other’s faces, the roses and scrawling notes left on my windshield. If I close my eyes tight enough, I can still see the warm candlelight, hear the soft, groveling jazz, and feel his hand on the small of my back, twirling me around the livingroom.
The sun had not yet peered over the mountains, but a tender lightness in the air gave away its coming prelude. I was alone, but I wasn’t afraid. It was a beautiful, full aloneness.
I hang up, the girl in the window smiling back at me as the bus hurries through the night. And then, without intending to, the thought pops into my mind: I love him. My mouth forms a silent O; I see it in my reflection. I love him! I do! I haven’t said those words to a guy in eight years. And there they are, carrying me away on bubbles.
The first time we met, it was like the shock of cold water on a hot day. Those eyes! Not milk chocolate, but blue as the sky.
Summer turned to autumn with the changing leaves; autumn morphed into winter with the sounds and smells of Thanksgiving, the crisp air, the dread of lake-effect snow to come. Each day as I crunched to classes on dying leaves bright with the beautiful colors of surrender, I found myself caught in a God-sized love story.
The pre-sleep thought was like a lullaby, like the scent of cookies baking.
“Hey Danielle,” his accent was soft as butter as he stooped to hug her. “Hey Jake! Tiff, this is my brother.” … “Where are you from?” “North Carolina,” he drawled, and the words had never sounded more beautiful.
Downtown Saratoga felt like a silent winter wonderland, having shed the noise and lights of yesterday’s celebrations, leaving behind fresh snow in its wake.
The humidity feels ready to burst over us, as I sit between this man I love, and his best friend’s child. My mind is clear, as though the rockets hurtling upward speak to me, briefly disappearing before imploding into brilliant pieces, illuminating the air with glory. Their brokenness is also their beauty.
Clouds chased each other across the darkening sky, breezes sifting through my hair. Such openness! I spread my arms as if about to fly and breathed deeply, filling my lungs with freedom. Filling my spirit in this moment with the Divine. “Tiffany, I have what you’ve asked Me for.” The words returned to me on the wind. My answer before I’d prayed one prayer.
As rocket after rocket slipped into the air, I knew God had something up His sleeve for me. Something — someone — I couldn’t see yet. The season felt like the quiet darkness that comes just before a brilliant explosion bursts before your eyes… There was no doubt about it; this was the calm before the beautiful storm.
Here in this moment I feel as though time has frozen, even as the dotted highway lines continue to flit away in the blink of an eye. Sunlight playing with tree branches are out of focus, joy washes in with the river I cross, yet all I can see is this moment. This instant of clarity, focus, and surety, even as everything swings toward me and away from me before I fully see it. I know what I have to do. For the briefest instant grief sweeps over me, threatening to lock up my heart. I nearly choke on the words I’m rehearsing, but then I remember: My Father delights in me.
Keep your ear out in the coming months! I hope to release Boy Talk in December!
(All contents (c) Tiffany Dawn, 2013.)