I hope in the end it is a LOVE STORY

A photo-diary of a Creative in Istanbul on New Years Eve

Lynda Filler

I changed my hair color three times this year. Pink, burgundy and now blue!

This shot reminds me of an old Flemish painting…. I have no idea why…

There is a sense of peace in a city (Istanbul) where the buildings have been around for centuries.

Even the nights are filled with color.

A quote on why I write. This year on Dec. 25th I published my 16th book on Amazon: The Istanbul Conspiracy.

I celebrated my 72nd birthday in Tel Aviv.

from Quora.

Love, seriously?

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Why is it that the one you love, never seems to love you back enough? Why is it, the one you don’t love, pours out his heart as if you are the last woman on earth? And his heart will be crushed, broken into a gazillion pieces (I have no idea what that would be in gigabytes-their language, not mine) if I don’t concede I’m “the woman he’s been searching for” his whole life?

Why is it when you’re following your dreams, and your gifts surround you, and beckon to you with love and joy, that you can’t see the forest for the trees? And tears flow when someone smiles at you and offers kindness?

Why is it that in a world gone mad, fast and furious political mayhem, disasters plaguing all continents, that my personal needs are the only thing I can focus on? Where is my social awareness? I assume it’s overwhelmed with self-pity, sometimes hanging on every word from you as if I can’t breathe if I don’t hear your voice or feel your love.

Before I met you, I took pleasure in simple things. Life was un/complicated un/interesting un/demanding. I asked less of me and nothing from you–because I didn’t know I would find those feelings for another ever again in my life.

And, it’s not like I didn’t have that conversation with myself. You know the one, yeh, the one where you tell yourself that this is too good to last, too intense to sustain, too passionate to be real.

The falling in love is the best part, the living in love better yet, the living in uncertainty–there is nothing worse.

I thought I left those days behind me. But then you turned up. I sighed, knowing this was not going to be good, right?

Dear Heart, really??? Don’t you think you’ve had enough? After all, we healed from incurable once before! Do you have to turn incurable (of the romantic kind) into a habit?

I thought normal, sane, controlled, ordinary (my version anyway) and calm were doing just fine.

“And then there was you.”

 

How do you know when your idea is big enough to write a book about?

If it’s big in your mind and heart that’s all that matters.

I write contemporary novels (amongst other genres). I know that what I write doesn’t necessarily fall into the strict categories of the romance field nor the mystery-suspense fields.

But I have huge stories inside of me, and they are more significant than genres—they beg to be released from my soul.

Write what your heart tells you to write. If your ideas are “big,” yet they don’t come from that place inside you that begs for release, then who will want to read them? If you start to write a story and can’t seem to continue, maybe because it’s following what’s “in style” at the moment, then the authenticity of your work will not show through.

I lead with my heart, nothing else matters to me. And if no-one buys a book I write, I will still be compelled to write exactly the way my soul leads me.

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You might enjoy Lynda’s latest Contemporary Fiction

 Lie To Me an exposé on sex for money

Lie to Me front red

Lie to Me: An Exposé on Sex for Money
“is insanely captivating, entertaining and exciting. It’s a spellbinding story that explores the psychology of sex in a way that defies Coelho’s Eleven Minutes.” R. Dzemo 5 STARS READERS’ FAVORITE BOOK REVIEWS
From a “powerful and unforgettable” author and winner of the Best in Contemporary Fiction 2017 BTRC for Target in the Sun comes another powerful fictional story, Lie to Me, an exposé on sex for money.

How many lives have been ruined for the pleasure of an orgasm?

Forty-something Layla Duncan, a women’s magazine writer, has a dangerous obsession with men who sell steamy sexual encounters to vacationing women in Puerto Vallarta. She infiltrates the underworld of male prostitution, interviews several men and begins to write a mesmerizing exposé of their lives.

Before long the lines between Layla’s personal life and professional assignment become blurred, and she finds herself questioning her value system in a titillating yet disturbing way.

Sparks fly one night when she takes a break from her writing and meets the sensual twenty-something Mateo at a local nightclub. The charismatic yet quiet young Mexican man seems oblivious to his powerful sexual aura but is immediately turned on by Layla. The one-night-stand turns into sporadic hook-ups, while two emotionally damaged lovers long for something neither can put into words.

Lynda Filler has once again delivered a fast-paced, sexy and sometimes gut-wrenching page-turner that will unnerve you and leave you breathless.

Why do I write?

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1. I live inside my mind. Thoughts build up in there to the point where I’m searching madly for somewhere to write them down.

2. Reading others’ words excite me and fill me with joy, or peace, or love, or passion—it’s the way I interact in my world.
3. When I compose a poem, a one-liner, a plot, or a book, I’m lost at that moment. Nothing else exists in my universe. The world stops.
4. No one can enter my mind unless I invite them in. That’s powerful. “I live in my own little world. They know me here.”
5. Language has the power to move us to tears. Lyrics break hearts, a stunning poem can make us cry, we can get lost for hours in a good novel, or change the world because of something an influential person has shared with us.
6. Words seduce us, inspire us to feats of greatness, send messages of love, heal others who are in pain and suffering.
How can I sum up the feeling I get when I complete one of my novels? Or when I finished my memoir?

Writing is the sum of all the fantastic parts of living our lives. Where would we be without the written word? Where would my fingers and my mind find a home?

How to deal with a broken heart…

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Have you ever been in a position where someone was crying out for help with romantic issues and you didn’t know how to save her? I was talking to a friend recently and I felt her sense of hopelessness. I did some research on the internet.

I came across this super cynical quote, needless to say, it’s anonymous!

“I have a better piece of advice: Don’t ever fall in love in the first place. Just don’t do it. It always leads to heartbreak and it’s never worth it. If you never let yourself fall in love with anyone, then you will never have to worry about getting over a broken heart. It’s as simple as that.”

My friend is a writer, which makes it double-challenging because you already know she lives in her head. And she’s an incurable romantic–10X the romance part. Imagine where her mind takes her! But here’s the crux of her challenge. When she’s feeling okay, she deals really well with the stress of career vs. following her dreams and her heart. But when she becomes ill, and her life goes into slow motion, watch out. She spirals quickly.

You see, she won’t admit it even to herself, but she’s fallen in love with an impossible situation. There’s no point in going into the details. If you think of all the things that make a sensible relationship work–or not work–the ‘not work part’ that’s her relationship. Status, family, distance, goals, dreams, the list is endless. There is no way to console her. And let me tell you, I’ve tried. I’m the eternal optimist. It doesn’t matter what happens in life, I will find a positive spin. But I can’t seem to help my dear friend out of this one. Nope. She’s inconsolable.

I tried laughter. I told her to go get her hair done, shop, have a massage–that always works, right? But her only response to me was this:

“When I met him, I had a good talk with myself. I saw the impossibility even as I found myself falling hard. I know I’m in love with a man who’s all wrong for me. But in my heart, he’s the guy I’ve waited for my whole life. He’s not my first love, but I feel he will be my last. When I feel normal, I can deal with the sadness. But when I’m sick, it all comes to the surface and all I want to do is cry and hide from the world.”

I’m at a loss with suggestions for dealing with self-pity. Could she be depressed and has been hiding it even from herself?

I found a few suggestions on how to deal with a broken heart. I’m not sure they will work but maybe I can try sharing them with her.

  1. Take heart, you will get through this, (I tried that. She ignored me.)
  2. Talk to someone who cares. (that’s not working.)
  3. Let yourself feel the pain. (She is definitely doing that.)
  4. Learn something from this experience. (If I say that to her right now, she’s likely to hit me!)
  5. Don’t fall in love again!! (Well, at least that one made her laugh out loud!)

And, finally, I added the one that really made her smile “This shit will make for a really great book!”

and the beat goes on…

 



Check out Lynda’s  latest release on inexplicable #LOVE

 Lie To Me an exposé on sex for money