Category: The Quest

As we rejoin Betsy’s blog, winds are whispering through Betsy’s brain.  These are the winds of fear.  Of doubt.  Of unbelief.  They are the winds of the Dark Voice, awakened from its slumber.  They blow through the corridors, seep under doors, bang through windows, coat everything they touch with black fog.

Although the Dark Voice never really leaves, it often lies dormant, waiting.  Betsy didn’t realize it was awake again, not right away.  Not until the winds blew her off balance and the whispers started hitting her like bird-shot – little pellets that sting and rip.  Little pellets that can shred her fledgling confidence, if she lets it.

Will she?

Now the black cloud of the Dark Voice surrounds Betsy, jeering in the multitude of whispers that make up its essence.  Twisting, turning, contradicting itself, but always, always whispering.

Let’s see what’s going on.

*Betsy wraps her arms around her knees and buries her face, tries not to listen*

Look at you. *the Dark Voice laughs*  You’ll never succeed….you’ve never been able to compete….you’ve always been less-than…

Stop it.

Oh. *it sounds sympathetic now*  I know you’re trying to do the right thing. You’re doing the best you can, which is just sad. Look at where you are. Look at where your books are ranking. Look at what you’ve “accomplished.”  You have, what, three books out? Please. That’s nothing. Pitiful.

At least I’m trying.  *Betsy speaks into her arms*

You’re a failure.

No I’m not.  *But Betsy doesn’t sound very certain*

Sure about that?

I..no…yes.  *Betsy tries to think, but the fog is thick*

You’re wondering if you’re fooling yourself.  You’re wondering if you’re making a fool of yourself.  *the Dark Voice sneers*  Going to quit? After writing all of these heartfelt posts about your plans and goals?  *it laughs*  Run away, little girl, run away.

Stop it.

How many people even know you exist? Run away. Run away.

STOP!

*The winds shift, circle, blow*  Why should I? You know the truth. You talk a good talk, but what are you actually doing? Wasting time.

*Betsy puts her hands over her ears*  Stop, stop, stop.

If you’d kept going after your first book was put out, if you hadn’t flailed around for YEARS maybe you’d have more books now. Screwed that up, didn’t you? 

I’m trying to get myself on a schedule. I’m trying to believe that what I’m doing is valuable.

VALUABLE? Oh, please. Spare me valuable. There are so many other things you could be doing. You could be cleaning the house. Have you looked at it recently? You could be reading other people’s books. You could be working a second job and paying off your debt instead of adding to it.

*Betsy looks up* But then I wouldn’t be writing.

*The Dark Voice blows* So what?

*Betsy straightens*  Writing makes me happy. It makes me feel more like…me.

*Suddenly the winds soften.  Gentle.  Are almost soothing* Okay, so write then. What the heck? Write to your little heart’s content. But why bother to go to the trouble of publishing?  Just write for yourself. That’s what Emily Dickinson did.  That’s what a lot of people do.

*Betsy stands, her back against the wall*  Part of what I love about writing is sharing. I want people to come into my world. I want to share it with them.

*The wind picks up*  No one cares. Your friends put up with you. Other people won’t.

*Betsy takes a step forward* That’s not true.  And I want to share. I want to play. I want to get better at what I’m doing and write better stories and have people love the characters as much as I do.

Doesn’t look like you’re having luck with that so far.

I don’t know.  But even if I’m not, I can’t run away. It’s kind of who I am. I tell stories.

And nobody wants to buy them.

*Betsy clenches her fists*  That’s not true either.  You lie all the time.  I’m just beginning.  And I can’t give up. I have to believe.

Oh, ple—

Believe in myself. *Betsy talks over the wind*  I can’t listen to you telling me I’m a failure because I have to hold on to the belief that this is possible. That I can be a successful independent author.  Maybe it hasn’t happened yet, but it might.  It can. If I believe it, I can achieve it.

*Dark Voice roars with fury*

*Betsy draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly*  Go away. I’m done listening to you. I’m still figuring things out, but I’m not going to run away.

I’ll be back. You’ll never get rid of me. Never.

I know.

*The wind whips up to a fever pitch, then stills* *Silence descends in Betsy’s brain*

*Betsy sighs*  I know.  You’ll never be gone.  But I guess it’s kind of part of being human.

To be continued…

If you’ve been reading Betsy’s Blog, you know that Betsy is on a Quest to become a successful independent author.  And, as is true of all Quests, she has a Guide.  His name is Harry, and he was sent by the Muse Council to help Betsy stay on her path.  Harry has taken up residence in Betsy’s brain, which is fine because there’s a lot of vacancy in there.

However, Harry has had a problem with his situation.  He was a white gerbil.  Not a white stag or a white rabbit, as is traditional for Guides.  He wasn’t even a white bloodhound or white lion!  No, he was a gerbil.  And he was determined to Guide the heck out of Betsy so he could be promoted and change his condition.  He dreamed of no longer being a laughingstock when he attended Guide events.  He wanted to prove that he, too, was worthy.

At Christmas, Harry got his wish.  Betsy had finally gotten off her butt enough for him to be promoted all the way to white hare!  Everyone was so happy!

But…

Harry hasn’t been around much lately, despite the fact that Betsy is trying to get her act together (again).  Where has he been?  What’s been going on?

Let’s see…

*Betsy enters her brain, walks to Harry’s office, and opens the door* *She stops* *Blinks*  *Walks inside*

What the heck? When did Harry’s office turn into a meadow?  Where’s the comfy sofa?  The flatscreen television?  The gerbil habitat?  Harry? Are you in here?

Yes. *Harry’s voice is disembodied and a little muffled* *He seems to have a lisp*

*Betsy looks at the thick, green grass and bright blue sky*  *A butterfly lands on a wildflower*  *Still no sign of Harry*  Where are you? Why is this place so different?

I’m in my burrow. *Harry’s voice is disgruntled and the lisp is more pronounced*  I’m a rabbit now. Rabbits live in freaking burrows, don’t they?

Well, yes, but… *Betsy wanders further into Harry’s office* I miss your sofa.

You ain’t the only one.

*Betsy studies a large tree with giant roots* How did all of this fit in here, anyway?  Your office wasn’t this big.

Your brain is expandable.  Besides, there was room next door, so I knocked out a few walls.

Oh.  *Betsy looks around again*  I feel like there ought to be hobbits living here.

Well, there ain’t no hobbits, are there? There are freaking rabbits.

Rabbits?

Me.  I’m a freaking rabbit.

Hmmm. *Betsy settles down on a stone near the tree roots* It sounds like we need to talk.

No we don’t.

Yes, we do, especially since I haven’t seen you for days.

So what?

*Betsy rolls her eyes*  Would you just get out here?

Fine. *tall grass rustles* *Harry hops into view, a beautiful and plump white rabbit* *He hops up to Betsy, then stands on his hind feet* *Puts paws on hips* I’m here. Satisfied?

*Betsy frowns*  Why are you in such a bad mood?

I’m not in a bad mood.

Sorry, but I’m the one listening to you.  You’re in a bad mood. Why?

*Harry looks down and kicks a pebble with one long hind foot* *It catapults into the air and hits Betsy in the forehead*

Ow!

Sorry. Still learning how to control these feet. And the teeth. The teeth really bother me.

Oh. I wondered why you were lisping.

Yeah, I’m tripping all the time, too. Stupid feet. Stupid teeth. And my ears itch. Stupid ears.

Wait. *Betsy holds up a hand* Are you upset because you’re a white rabbit now?

*Harry shifts* Of course not.

You are! You are upset because you’re a white rabbit. *Betsy frowns*  But why? This is something you’ve wanted ever since I’ve met you. You’ve worked hard for this. And now you’ve gotten it!

Yeah, well. *Harry rapidly thumps a foot on the ground* I couldn’t use my sweet little gerbil habitat anymore, so I had to get rid of it.  And I’d just renovated the thing!

I wondered where that had gone.

And then I joined the White Rabbit Quest Guide private Facebook group? And they’re all doing a lot better than I am.

Well, you did just become a White Rabbit a few days ago.

Still! Some of them have only been promoted in the last few months. One had been a white cockroach and even he’s doing better than me.  He’s guiding the heck out of his Questor, and believe me that guy was a real slacker.  Jerry got him up and running, and now he’s promoted and is always posting pictures showing what a good time they’re having on their path.

*Betsy winces* Um, well–

And I tried to introduce myself to the group, and they all either ignored me or said “Oh, the gerbil. Took you long enough.”

You shouldn’t let social media get you down.

*Harry looks away* I’ll never fit in.

*Betsy considers him*  Harry. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.

*Harry hangs his head* I didn’t realize things would change.  Or that my teeth would be dumb.  And I didn’t know I wouldn’t fit in with the other white rabbits.

Yeah, but you can dig a lot better now, right?  And you can still climb if you want to, just in a different way than a gerbil, um, I guess. *Betsy thinks*  The teeth will work themselves out and so will the rabbits.

*Harry scuffs a foot*  I know, but…

*Betsy leans forward*  Do you want to go back to being a gerbil?

*Harry shrugs*  I don’t think I can. Once you take the step, you’re different.  Some things you can’t change.

*Betsy sits back*  So just embrace it then.

*Harry sticks out his bottom bunny lip*  I don’t know if I want to embrace it.

Look. You WANTED this.

*Harry throws up his hands*  But I’m different now! I’m not the same! I’ll never be the same!

I know. I guess it’s hard to change, even if the change is for the better. And sometimes we work for something, and we don’t really think about the fact that it will make us different. But we can’t always stay the same.

Yes we can!

But you’ll grow into your rabbit-hood eventually, right?

*Harry scuffs his feet*  Maybe.  There’s a lot more responsibility.  Maybe I’m not good enough.

*Betsy kneels and looks at him*  I need you. Please don’t leave me and hop away.

*Harry looks away*  You really want me?

I really do.

*Harry thinks*  Okay then. *Straightens his shoulders*  Okay.  It’s different, but I want to do this. I want to be a rabbit. I want to be a better Guide.  I want to take that next step. It’s just…

What?

*Harry shuffles some more*  Maybe I’m a little scared.

*Betsy looks down*  Maybe I am, too.

*Harry put his paws on her face*  Everything’s going to be even more different if we keep going.

I know. *Betsy meets his pink rabbit eyes*  *She bites her lip*  We’re on the path.  Are you game?

*Harry nods slowly*  I think so.  Let’s hop down the trail together.

*Betsy smiles at him*  Okay.

But in the shadows, a whisper stirs in the back of Betsy’s brain.  The Dark Voice has awakened….

Uh oh.

To be continued…

Welcome to a wee bit of a short story, starring Betsy–a humble author, and Harry–a white gerbil who is the Guide on Betsy’s Quest to become a successful independent humble author.  Harry is on a quest of his own–he wants to transform from gerbil to white hare or even a white stag (all of the best Quests are Guided by stags).  Thus far, he is unsuccessful.

But today… today he seems different.  Jaunty, even.  And he’s dressed…weird.  Whatever is going on?

Let’s see….

Betsy is lounging in her brain, thinking of nothing, when the door to her office opens and Harry strides in. He looks different than usual. Taller. More confident. And he’s wearing a hat with a floppy brim and long white feather, leather breeches, and thigh-high boots.  This is a little disturbing.

“Comst thou with me, wench,” he says, and, turning, leaves the room.

Betsy blinks several times. Then, figuring she’s not getting much done anyway, gets up and follows him.

“Where are we going?” she asks when she catches up to him.

“Thou shalt see.” Harry says, striding forward

“Thou? What’s with the thou?”

“Comest on.”

“Why are you talking that way?” Betsy skips a little so she can keep pace with him. His breeches and boots might squeak, but Harry is moving very quickly.

Harry does not answer. Instead, he leads her through the corridors of her mind to a meadow where Betsy has lain for many hours looking at stars and fireworks and magical creatures.  As they walk past the great lake in the middle of the meadow, Betsy hears water splashing.  She sees her Muse, dressed in bright, shining finery, cupping her hands, dipping them into the water, and then bringing them up to her face.

“Hey, Muse,” Betsy calls. “What are you doing?”

“I am bathing in inspiration,” Muse holds out her hand. “Come on in.”

“Nay, wench!” Harry snaps.  “Do not distract this one. We canst not stop now!”

The Muse slowly lowers her arms, and, equally slowly raises her eyebrows.

“Excuse me?”

Harry turns as pale as a white rodent can, and falls to his knees.

“I am sorry, my queen,” he says with his nose to the ground.

The Muse nods. “Forgiven.” Waves hand. “Go forth my good man.”

Betsy blinks at both of them. “Why is everyone talking this way?”

“Come.” Harry jumps to his feet, grabs her hand, and drags her along after him.

They walk across the meadow to a mountain. They walk up the mountain. They walk down the other side. They walk up another mountain. Betsy, who is not a supreme physical specimen, thinks she is going to die.

Finally, Harry pauses at the crest of a hill and gestures.

“Behold,” he says grandly.

Betsy frowns at him. “The power of cheese?”

Harry takes off his hat and slaps her with it. “Nay!” He gestures again. “Behold.”

Betsy turns and sees several mountains before her. There are cities perched on the top of each one. One of them is pretty close; the others range out from it.

“What’s all this, then?”

“This is where your journey is taking you.” Harry points to the closest mountain. “There we see your current work in progress.” To the next. “There is Welcome to Hardy Falls 2.5” The next. “There is Welcome to Hardy Falls 3”. He points to the one furthest away. “The spin off.”

“Huh.” Betsy studies the mountains and the cities. “The one closest to us seems pretty big and well-developed.”

“’Tis because you have traveled there many times now and can see the territory and terrain.”

“Uh huh. And the others cities look a little more barren.”

Harry gestures with a sweep of his cloak. “You have traveled to yon cities and gazed upon them, but thou hast not as yet mapped them completely. Whenst thou dost go and mark time within their streets, they shall blossom and bloom.”

Betsy considers him. “You sound like Shakespeare.”

Harry sweeps off his hat and bows. “Many thanks, milady.”

“Great.” Betsy considers the mountain ranges and the cities. “So where are we anyway?”

“Behold thy new frontier.”

“Th…my new frontier?”

“Yea, verily. Thou hast crossed out of the first valley and now seekest thy fortunes beyond the walls of thine own city.”

“I have? I do?” Betsy blinks. “When did that happen?”

“Why, when thou didst persist in thy Quest. When thou created these cities within thy mind and aimethst thine arrows at them. Whenst thou sawest past the next folio to all that is beyond.”

“Yeah?” Betsy rocks back on her heels. “No crap?”

“Noneth.”

“So, that’s good, right?”

“Aye.” Harry glares at her. “But thy journey is still long, my girl. Thou canst not rest on thy laurels and eateth bon-bons.”

Betsy frowns. “It’s a lot of work. Maybe I’m too late to get to all the places I want to go.”

Harry shrugs. “Then go where thou canst.”

Betsy looks down at him. “And you’ll still Guide me?”

Harry bows. “’Twould be my pleasure, my lady.”

“And are you going to keep talking this way all the time?  Because I have to say it’s getting kind of old.”

“Nah.” Harry takes off his hat and shakes out his cape. “It’s kind of a pain in the butt to add all the “sts”. But I wanted to be, you know, artsy fartsy when I showed you.”

“Showed me the cities?”

“Those, and….” Harry turns around, lifts his cape, wiggles his little butt. “Look!”

Harry’s long thin gerbil tail is different. It’s short! It’s puffy! It’s…

“Harry!” Betsy exclaims. “Your tail! It looks like a rabbit’s tail! Are you…?”

“Yep!” Harry turns around, does a little dance. “My ears are longer too. I’ll be upgraded to a White Hare Quest Guide before you know it!”

“Harry!” Betsy clasps hands to breast. “You’re growing! You’re actually growing!”

“I am.” Harry jumps up onto Betsy’s shoulder and looks her right in the eye. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“You are too.”

To be continued….