Suzanne Tyrpak--Who's Imagining All This?: Surprise Guest: Thea Atkinson

Please welcome one of my favorite writers: Thea Atkinson

I can't wait to read her new release!

Thea is always full of surprises, and this post is no exception.
From Thea:

I'm a history addict--so much so that my hubby has on occasion said to me when I grab the TV remote, "Oh, God, not another Egypt thing."

I'm also a big reader. And I LOVE Suzanne's books. Grabbed and read and LOVED Vestal Virgin and Hetaera. (Did I just write Love twice in one paragraph and cap it both times?)

So imagine my delight when Suzanne invited me to guest post. No. Really. Imagine it--you wouldn't be far off if you believed I did a little jig--except you'd have to also imagine Elaine on Seinfeld to get it to something accurate. I'm a very poor dancer.

I considered using this opportunity to hock my wares--I have a new novella just released (Theron's Tale) but I thought how cheesy that would be when this gracious writer I admire offers me such a gift. So I'm not going to do that. Instead I'll mention the series that has recently captivated me.

Mankind: The Story of All of Us has production values that are out of this world. More than that, the images feed my habit in ways that speak to me as a writer.

You see, I've always been one to gravitate to odd bits of history. I love the underdog, so much so that I always loved the peculiar pieces of history that didn't get taught in school--or church.

I remember reading the King James Version of story of Judas's betrayal and saying to my mom--a devout Evangelical Christian, mind you--that I couldn't believe God would be so heartless that He'd condemn poor Judas when the poor disciple was obviously just doing his part in 'The Plan." That he was just obeying what the big J told him to do.

Phew. The tongue lashing.

Then about eleven years later I read about the Dead Sea Scrolls and all the Gnostic teachings and got this chilly sense of recognition.

What that has to do with how small bits of images form Mankind feed my writer essence is simple. It's these types of things: flashes of imagery, sound bytes of words that get the psyche-deep synapse-firing effect in me that forces me to narrative. I like to tell myself a story I'd like to read.

And I always fail.

Nothing I write ever comes close to the visceral response I get to the possibility of a story. It falls woefully short of the drive and potential I foresee. I get this sense of magnitude and emotion and satisfaction even before I've put pen to digital paper. It's when the potential is at its fullest bloat and I sense the power of the escape I want to create.

If only my talent and skill matched that quivering swell. Oh. The story I could tell.

And that's why I love Suzanne's work. It promises and delivers. You wouldn't be here reading my paltry words if you weren't too a fan. So I'd like to thank you for letting me have some of that time you would normally have reserved for her; I appreciate it more than you can know.

You could try out my work, I suppose, if you like. Some is plain and some is edgy. Depends on where the images or words took me. Just remember if you do that you'll find odd things in there everywhere, because nothing speaks to me quite so much as peculiar.