As I attempt to get through the anthology, I’m realizing most of what’s included is from over the last three years. So where’s the rest?
I spent many years as a strictly ink Writer. This was actually a silent protest against publishers, critics, and pretty much the rest of the world. You see, it was critical that I wrote for mySelf and no other. I still believe that once you start creating Art for other people instead of as a reflection of who You are… something gets lost.
I have no idea where all of my writing books are. I do know, however, that every writing book I’ve had pre-2002 has been thrown in the garbage by an angry Italian mother that was very unhappy when her youngest daughter moved out of the house fairly unannounced, twice.
Ok completely unannounced. Continue reading
Something from 2007… as featured in the forthcoming anthology…
THE SILENCE OF LOVE
I have not spoken for nearly three years now – not since that day. Continue reading
Today is the last day of 2009. When the year started, I was just becoming aware of my distaste for shackles.
I have a confession to make. Although I was raised in the vicinity of my beloved New York City… I was not born on the East Coast. Continue reading
In between tangents, playtime, and the occasional nervous breakdown… I’m trying to figure out what my deal is as a Writer. I’m busting out the novel but as I’m editing it at the moment… I’m asking myself if it’s where my energy should be going, ‘book writing’.
I’m enjoying it, however as my broken record chant declares… I enjoy every kind of creative writing (and the occasional technical stint here and there).
Truthfully, poetry has to be the one style I play with that I never really expected I’d try to publish. I think this is because I’m still adjusting/opening up to whole rejection thing, lol. Which is why, for the longest time I wouldn’t submit to publishers. When you love something, like I love words… throwing it out there to be knocked back and ridiculed isn’t exactly appealing. Somehow (to me) writing and sending out books seems more like business, I think that’s how I can walk off the rejection.
Poetry is different.
I write poetry to cope. For example, when Penguin books told me they didn’t want the Aussie children’s book I sent them – I wrote a poem to deal with it. Or yesterday when I was feeling homesick for Australia and walking a tightrope of losing my shit again … my pen naturally spilt ink in the poetic form as a sort of a protection mechanism.
I guess since I’m basically a born poet, engaging on a mission to prove this via publishing seems odd.
But then again… so do most things on this planet…