Molly’s Own Creative Writing – Page 2

Minty Mud Cake

“Minty Mud Cake” by Molly Ovenden

Original. Acrylic on Watercolor Paper. Unframed. Part of the “Scrapings” Collection.

Approximate Dimensions:
5.5 inches x 6 inches

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**Price of this original painting is $75 + tax + shipping.
Please note:
a) Shipping outside of the USA may be significant.
b) Shipping costs will be billed and charged separately from purchase of original painting.

How did it get its title?
Oh, it just looks like an amazing chocolate cake with minty frosting. And the lift off of the paint on the right edge and bottom of this square squelches a sugary richness that makes my mouth shiver with its cocoa richness. It reminds me of the chocolate mints we used to get from a fancy restaurant–the ones individually wrapped in shiny, green foil. Also–it reminds me of playing in the mud after the rain and seeing the sky clear up through trees in my backyard.

Something I love about this painting is…
how many details there are–this piece can hold its own. Some squares I paint need to be partnered with an acrylic friend, but this beauty struck me as capable of independence. Plus also, my mouth is watering right now because the brown is such a good chocolate and I love that I know it’s paint, but how I still want to eat it.

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One more thing…
(Here’s a little something I wrote, inspired by this piece.)

“Minty Mud Cake”
a piece by Molly Ovenden

On the menu today:
A fancy cake, homemade.
A slice for all the guests
To devour in cocoa paradise
In their fancy dresses,
Slurping bone china
Cups of black tea:
Perfect match for this chocolatey
Cake of mint madness
Invigorating the senses–
What?! Why does it taste of mud?
Well, I’m five, and I made
This for you–
‘Member the rain last night?

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Such Tall Trees as These

“Such Tall Trees as These” by Molly Ovenden

Original. Acrylic on Watercolor Paper. Unframed. Part of the “Scrapings” Collection.

Approximate Dimensions:
11 inches x 9 inches

Become a Collector
Click Here

Purchase This Original Art

**Price of this original painting does not include tax + shipping.
Please note:
a) Shipping outside of the USA may be significant.
b) Shipping costs will be billed and charged separately from purchase of original painting.

How did it get its title?
When I look at these streaks of paint, the way that the green opens up to brown reminds me of lying on my back and looking up the trunk of some old tree, mesmerized by the fluttering leaves in a gentle breeze. And I don’t really know what exactly that it is, but something feels old and draws me in with a sense of wonder that these have stood for and through the ages.

Something I love about this painting is…
the emerald green in the bottom right square. There’s something grounding in the left side with all of the brown gathering there–and then, the green lifts the right of the page. The varied lines of paint streaking in that bottom right square appear like light coming through a green, precious gem–and kind of like how sunlight comes translucent through leaves. It makes me feel hopeful.

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One more thing…
(Here’s a draft of a little something I wrote, inspired by this piece.)

“Such Tall Trees as These”
a piece by Molly Ovenden

Oh, what wondrous wisdom
These trunks have gleaned,
And storms they’ve weathered:
The sheen of their leaves
Annually renewing luster
From dews in springtimes fresh.

Stretch tallest to heaven,
Blue sky summers of
Self-discovery, insightful
Adventures embarked upon,
Beneath such tall trees as these.

Oh, what warmth they could burn!
Oh, what oxygen they give to breath!
Centuries of roots dig deep,
Generations of branches have leaned.

But, what could be coming
As such trees like these reach?
Perhaps their tall leaves
Inspire strength, resilience?
How might they speak to me?
What wisdom could be released
If I simply rested in the grass
And listened patiently to:
Such tall trees as these?

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SOLD – Late Night June–Almost Seeing the Moon Between These Trees

SOLD “Late Night June–Almost Seeing the Moon Between These Trees” by Molly Ovenden

Original. Acrylic on Watercolor Paper. Unframed. Part of the “Scrapings” Collection.

Approximate Dimensions:
11 inches x 15 inches

SOLD

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How did it get its title?
I’ve been fascinated by the color green in nature since I was a kid. And, the way summer leaves flicker sunlight that seems to last into late nights is such a comfort. I feel like I’m lying down on my back and actually resting in June–on the longest day and the breeze is even more refreshing than a misty glass of tart lemonade with droplets of evening heat condensing.

Something I love about this painting is…
The progression of greens. There’s so much movement that’s streaking across the page–across the painting!–that my imagination is so invested in the story. The yellow sits in sunny companionship with all of the greens and amidst the motion of changeable greenery; it feels calm and still over my soul.

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One more thing…
(Here’s a draft of a little something I wrote, inspired by this piece.)

For such a day as this
Coolness beckons June’s heat
Hovering over my forehead
A sweetest embrace, a gentle kiss

For such a June as today
Humidity lifts the most blue
Bidding farewell to daydreams
A sweetest reality, a prayer to stay

For such a calm as weekends
Chilled breezes surround us
Quenching thirsty times of
A sweetest memory, a moment with friends

For such a day as glory
Paused in clear skies
Stargazing amongst moonlight
A sweetest glance, an untold story

For such a day it’s been
Tranquility soothes frazzled minds
Comforting joys shared in gratitude
A sweet thank you…
Until next time…but, when?

SOLD

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Woodland Musics For Elvish Dancing

“Woodland Musics For Elvish Dancing” by Molly Ovenden

Original. Acrylic on Watercolor Paper. Unframed. Part of the “Scrapings” Collection.

Approximate Dimensions:
11 inches x 15 inches

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Purchase This Original Art

How did it get its title?
When I look at this painting I see so much movement. Normally the squares I scrape are a steady line with little to no wavering. But, in this piece there are several wobbles and undulations that invoke a sense of movement–different from the linear pieces that usually come into existence. Then, since the dominant colors are brown and green, I knew this was happening among trees. And with a secret amount of metallic gold, it felt the richness of ancient Elvish wisdom.

Something I love about this painting is…
Every square is entirely different. My eyes keep moving to observe the stories dancing in each square. While I cannot and deliverately choose not to be in control of the outcome–this is an experiment in freedom from control, I love how cohesive it feels. I love the two squares on the outside of the middle row; like elves dancing, swaying their hips in time. The bottom right square has an especially pleasing-to-me texture and shape of the lift off. I’m really excited about this piece.

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One more thing…
(Here’s a draft of a little something I wrote, inspired by this piece.)

“Woodland Musics For Elvish Dancing”
a piece by Molly Ovenden

And in the coolest part of the the night
When the cuckaras shout
Before taking flight
The cackles of cheeky children
Up so late on moonlit din
Skittering free as only elvish
Little ones can–

And in the ancient roots a song
Rumbles beneath their feet
Keeping time for life
Across Night and Day
Leafy breeze, deciduous trees
Movement wings its way
From roots to souls to fingertips

And in the coolest part of the night
That’s when the fairies come to play
Elvish rhythm draws out creatures
Once warring–for a moment
Peaceful merrymaking, starry-eyed

And in the coolest part of the night
When mamas dance and papas glide
It’s Woodland Musics For celebrations
Truest for most sacred of Elvish Dancing

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Closer, the book

Closer: Spiritual Reflections for Writers and Thinkers helps people of faith grow closer to God through the acts of writing and thinking, so that they can live full, authentic lives as the person who they are made to be.

Purchase your signed copy here.

The process all started more than ten years before the book was released into the wild.

Listen to pre-launch day reflections here.

I had graduated from college during a recession. I’d started my university education at a time when organizations simply wanted their employees to have a degree in something and I ended with a degree when organizations preferred their new employees to start with at least five years of professional, working experience in the field they were hiring.

So.

I sat at home in my pajamas applying for teaching jobs every day of the summer. I worked for a family member, too, so at least I had a summer income. While I worked I had a lot of time to think about fun things, like actually becoming the writer I dreamed of being. Like actually writing a book. Like continuing to write regularly as I’d been doing while I was a student.

(By the way…I also have signed copied of Closer: Companion Journal for Writers & Thinkers available to purchase here.)

My summer job with family was an assembly line and I was quicker than the machine (yay, me!) and this meant I could write my thoughts and book ideas in a notebook between assembly. Thankfully my boss was a supportive family member (because I got the work done efficiently and quickly — my writing along the way didn’t slow me down).

When 4:30pm hit, I’d clock out and hop into my car, clutching my notes from the day. I’d charge through the door of my mom’s house, still wearing my greasy clothes from the machine shop and I’d plop down at the dining room table with my notebook. I’d spend the next 30 to 60 minutes furiously scribbling all of the thoughts I’d had about the notes I’d jotted that day.

Grab your signed copy of Closer: Spiritual Reflections for Writers & Thinkers here.

. . . . . . .

By the way…I also have signed copied of Closer: Companion Journal for Writers & Thinkers available to purchase here.
Now you can get your words out from brain to page and into the hands of readers who will devour them, too.

I wanted everything that had been swirling around all day to get on the page. And, I was curious about what might come out.

I had a practice of capturing ideas all day in a scrap of notebook paper.

I had a practice of expanding the ideas every day when I got home from work.

I had a practice of showing up every day as the writer I wanted to be.

Listen to pre-launch day reflections here.

This practice meant that I was available daily for the muse to come and inspire me. In this book’s case, my muse was the Holy Spirit. And, I developed a practice of listening for the Holy Spirit, noticing where God is in my daily life, and looking for what I could learn from God to get closer to Him.

📚You can find a signed copy of my book Closer: Spiritual Reflections for Writers & Thinkers here.

(By the way…I also have signed copied of Closer: Companion Journal for Writers & Thinkers available to purchase here.)

📚You can find my book on pretty much wherever books are sold. If you enjoy reading my book, please leave an honest review on Amazon:

📚You can order the Kindle or print version on Amazon.
The print version is available at the following (& more!) locations, regionally:

🇺🇸US readers order print copies here.

🇦🇺Australian readers order print copies here.

🇬🇧UK readers order print copies here.

Closer is a collection of essays about every day events where I experienced the presence of God and learned to grow closer in my relationship with Him.

The format is simple:
a) Here’s my story.
b) Here’s how you and I, dear reader, are in it together.
c) Here are some questions to think about where you might notice God.
d) Here’s a prompt for you to write YOUR story.
e) Read. Write. Think. Repeat.

Intrigued? Sign up here to get all of the details about this book and how you can get your hands on it.

📚You can find my book on Amazon or wherever books are sold. If you enjoy reading my book, please leave an honest review on Amazon:

📚You can order the Kindle or print version on Amazon.
The print version is available at the following (& more!) locations, regionally:

🇺🇸US readers order print copies here.

🇦🇺Australian readers order print copies here.

🇬🇧UK readers order print copies here.

Listen to pre-launch day reflections here.

SciFi Daily Prompt 3

This month, I’m participating in Camp NaNoWriMo. My goal? I have never written science fiction, but would like to because anything can happen! I think it’s really fun and the type I will be writing is silly and non-sensical…likely with made up science and technology because I’ve never understood that stuff very well. I am aiming to write 500 first thought words each day in the morning to put my own writing projects first and get all the creative juices flowing. I’ll be using my Science Fiction Prompts resource I created for my clients and students.

I’ll practice free writing so I will not be editing afterward or during. The only things I might change are if there are obvious spelling errors as I’m going along. Otherwise, this is purely straight from my wild mind and onto the page…eek!

Feel free to join me or follow along.

Day 2 Prompt: This gave a whole new meaning to garbage disposal.

Photo by **Tom Swinnen** from **Pexels**

Daily Goal: 500
Word Count: 584
**This gave a whole new meaning to garbage disposal.** The birds circled the area with increased lazy pursuit. They feigned a lack of interest when they were hungry for new garbage. Their own flesh and their own blood was no longer satisfying these cannibal black feathered monsters. They were bigger than the ravens on earth. Their eyes were beadier than those glassy, balck-eyed creatures. And their eyes were redder than the earthlings. These giant raven aliens’ feathers were broader and wider than those on earth. Their necks sagged with the gagaciousness gagging throat skin, hanging with that wretchedness of those of turkey vultures, but these seemed more demonic than the rubbish collectors on earth. Their eyes flitted and darted about the rows of houses, looking for a twitch, for a waft of a stench. There were few areas cleaner and tidier than Locklandaga, the major city on Noro’s largest moon, of the habitable moons, Newtein. Locklandaga held a special meaning to those who lived, or survived there. It was all about perspective. They were able to start fresh. These birds were part of that fresh start. The garbage was never collected in a refuse area or dumpsite, instead these giant birds would circle and prey on and clean up what was left over and these aviary magicians would make the clutter and disgusting ick disappear. For the Chorrupsi family, Locklandaga was a sign of promise, the black birds were signs of hope, signs to erase everything that was wrong about their previous lives before they came Newtein and trekked to find Locklandaga. So many things had passed in their minds as they meandered and miraged, held hands in fear of what mind come from behind a dune and rear their maggoty heads at them. The Chorrupsi family consisted of the mother and father, Lina and Tim and their five children, Corai, Newla, Nita, Seb and Trulobe, each named for gods on their home planet of Nextine. They had struggled once the new emperor, Nonthroganoshticoy had taken power. He had overthrown the, at the time, current infrastructure and enslaved some of the workers immediately. He hoped that they would submit to him right away and then convince the rest of the peoples of how beneficial it was to follow him. But, Nonthroganoshticoy was mistaken. There was a brutal battle waged by the initial group of enslavement. Lina and Tim took their whole Chorrupsis right away via escape vessels run by rebels to surrounding moons of nearby planets. Noro orbited Newtein in a chaotic and wobbly manner, often making the scientific groups question the trajectory of the moon, but they’d studied it for years and it always got back on a suitable course, so far at least. The Chorrupsis didn’t feel they had a choice. They simply had to get out. They felt tremendous gratitude for the pilots of the escape vessels. They were good people, the Chorrupsis and they felt like they deserved a fair chance to raise their girls in a place free from fear and whilst they felt afraid, they wanted to allow their girls an opportunity. Newtein was a place out of necessity that really did dispose of all of the garbage in the Chorrupsis lives. They wondered if it would always feel like a time of gratitude. They wondered if these birds would present a new sense of fear, but could it be that these large black birds could be like those on earth, symbolizing the embodiments of change and transformation?

SciFi Daily Prompt 2

Feel free to join me or follow along.

Day 2 Prompt: The orbs floated overhead, pausing above each guest. They were smelling them and…

Photo by **Josh Sorenson** from **Pexels**

Daily Goal: 500
Word Count: 431

The orbs floated overhead, pausing above each guest. They were smelling them and…with each sniff, it seems, they were sending signals back to the mother ship. The mother ship, if that is what you could really call it was a giant orb, blue in color so that it hid well in the sky of Pacific California. The sunshine glinted off of the orb, but in such a way that it created the classic sparkle of a California dreamin’ day, not in an eerie or unusual way. That in itself was rather eerie and unusual. However, these orbs were a new development that came in the span of time of the change of seasons. It was the season of spring and as the flowers bloomed, it was as though the pollen brought upon with it orbs. Just a few at first, like spring blossoms de-petaling and the pink petals flowing freely and then being able to let go of their own expectations, but instead it was the need to settle. These orbs took up the fragrance of others and encapsulated it. That must be what they were doing. To the residents of Jordan Heights, up in the cliff hills, they were oblivious at first, only the birdwatchers began to notice, but it was clear that nobody believed them for their odd tendencies to observe unidentifiable flying objects except with their high powered binoculars, but they did bring it upon themselves to write down all of the details of when they began seeing these orbs. They also were the ones who noticed the mothership blue orb first, too. Ornithologists are the people who might seem the least likely to adopt the ideals of alien life forms, but they can on occasion argue for the existence of dinosaurs in the modern era, which they assert are their two legged winged friends. So, they were willing to detect the change. Their birds’ migration habits are a little different from last year as they are returning from a winter down south where it was warmer for them. A few trickled in earlier than usual. And then there weren’t as many birds returning in mass. It seemed like the birds were coming in a flighty and trickly pattern, which is unusual. Everything was unusual. Everything was unusual except for Herpert. Herpert was in his element. And it was Herpert who was doing the collecting of smells from the orbs when they thought that it was on its way to the mother ship. Herpert had been able to redirect the scents in his scent collector which was…

SciFi Daily Prompt 1

Feel free to join me or follow along.

Day 1 Prompt: When the otter’s tail clicked into place with fine-tuned mechanical precision, I knew there was an issue.

Photo by **David Selbert** from **Pexels**

Daily Goal: 500
Word Count: 940

When the otter’s tail clicked into place with fine-tuned mechanical precision, I knew there was an issue.
I had seen an inappropriately large amount of otters since I had moved into the area, but I thought it was simply because of the widely wooded area with swampy rivers. They need trees to build their dams and they need water to dam, right? That’s what I thought, at least. I had been minding my own business on a Monday morning, whistling my way to work, you know how it is. And I got to seeing that these otters then seemed on their way to work, too, which I thought was cute at first. I hadn’t had my coffee, you know? And then, I watched as they started to simultaneously thump their tails in time with each other. I saw that each thump of their tails seemed to call more and more woodland creatures and wildlife to the river, but now I don’t think that these were the creatures they appeared to be. I think that they are, well, I think that they are robots. I don’t know who to talk to and I am afraid that they are recording my cell phone, so I don’t feel like it’s safe to call anyone or text anyone about this. It feels like they are watching me all the time now. It’s been five days so far and it’s really creepy. So, that’s why I am keeping this journal. I’m glad I kept my dad’s NASA pen, I never knew where he got it from, but it helps to be able to write wherever and on whatever I can. The idea is that if something happens to me that at least there will be a record. Although I don’t know if it’d ever be found, at least I can write underwater. Come to think of it, I probably could write underwater since these otters can’t really live in water since they appear to be robots. Well, now that I think about it, I see that I’ve gotten rather confused and carried away with my words. These aren’t otters, these are beavers. Well, robot beavers. I know otters will hold hands with each other while they are in a group and that’s really sweet, which is what I thought I saw these otters, I mean beavers, doing. But, I wonder if there is some sort of network where they have to make a physical connection to be able to do something to upload data. So, I watched them from my walk to work at the local gas station. And then I saw how they slapped their tails, their giant leathery paddles of tails, but then one of them started to twitch after slapping some mud. I had discovered they were building dams on the sides of the roads after a couple days. I thought it was odd, but you know, I’ve never been an animal person. I think this might be better if I talk into a battery operated, portable, old-fashioned tape recorder things like I had when I was little, so I’ll switch to that when I get a chance to find it. It’s probably in an old bag in the cedar closet. Well, you see, I saw one of the beaver tails get all twitchy and off to the side, like it got all out of joint location. Then, after it did a buzzing of shivering motions, it’s tail just clicked back into place and then, my own body starting those buzzing, shivering motions, but I’m no robot, I was terrified. I tried to like, avert my eyes as soon as I’d seen it. Because then it turned toward me where I’d been in the gas station window and it fixed its beady little red eyes onto me and I turned away and began rearranging the cigarettes above the registers. Luckily, so I was told, there’d been an issue with shoplifting, so we had mirrors that faced outside as well as inside so no matter where I stand in the little cashier area at the gas station, I can see pretty much anywhere. So, I watched this little guy, after his clunky, thumpy tail clicked into place and he seemed to go back to normal. But, for me, watching him do that with his tail, or her tail, I guess, I can’t tell the difference between a man and lady beaver, but are they even beavers anyway? Robot beavers? It looks so stupid even to write it. But, I know what I saw. Well, I know that I saw something ridiculous, too ridiculous that it had to be true. Too ridiculous. I wanted to tell a couple of my buddies from the club, but now I’m not sure who I can trust. I’m just keeping my eyes peeled and I’m laying low to see what else I notice over the next few days. I’ll try my best to keep a record of what I see and learn. But, if it’s not safe for me to write something down, I won’t. I might try an old-fashioned voice recorder like I said, butttttt……oh no. Oh, no. I can see there are more of them. And what is that? What is that glinting in the sky? All of the beavers have stood up on their hind legs and are walking toward me. They are all walking, waddling in unison. They are moving toward the gas station. I have to act natural. I’ll just be putting my notebook in my inner pocket of my shirt. So, this is not how I thought today would go, I…

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Happy Writing! Molly x