Sometimes it’s disenchanting being a broke Writer like me. Certain days I find myself alternating blank stares between a novel, the wall, some poetry, the wall, a children’s book… you catch my drift…
Other days, like today, I wake up determined. Not determined to get Penguin books to mass produce my words or determined to submit a dozen pieces to literary journals for rejection. I wake up determined to be myself – to write the way I want to and believe that somehow, within all of this chaos, I’m going to swing a survival staying honest.
I’m not ready to stop trying… Continue reading
a trip to being taken
we were. riding an early train. leg rest lap. and i
wished for longer. extension, to say. reversing
hits. Continue reading
I’m playing with prose in between sorting the next book… in title-less ways like this:
It was something that was fiercely (personal) affective.
My pouting lips twisted in a way where (withheld) words fought the air for a treasured moment of sound. Syllables I silenced with string filled ears; my diplomatic eyes rejoiced with (expression) drips of invisible recollections.
I thought (you knew) the way a piano shakes the leaves off my gripped heart tree. And (you said) how it’s hard for me to (fit in) manipulate a world where I can – Continue reading
Since kicking off my site just over a year ago, cult members consistently say that I inspire them. I’ve mentioned this in previous posts, and every time a new wave comes through contacting me with conversations like ‘Thank you so much for what you do, following you has renewed my interest in writing,’ I’m left in speechless spins of joy that steer me toward my laptop and get my fingers clicking.
It’s not always as easy as I might be making it look… Continue reading
The past few days have been fuzzy madness. My mind is switching into novel mode. I ran around so much last week promoting the Writers’ Night that I inadvertently ran myself down to a shadowy zombie of exhaustion buried in words of all sorts. Continue reading