Category: inspiration

Audience 

          Who is my audience?  As an author there is not a day that goes by that I am not asking myself this question.  I have, I think come to a decision on it. My children’s books: the audience is fairly obvious.  Children.  I really write them for my daughter (and now my grandson).  Which is why I believe that the third bedtime stories will be mid grade. The first two were stories written for her when she was small. The third started for a preteen. (And now she is helping me write it.  She was suggesting ideas for the story and is looking forward to hear it when it is done.  She refused me reading it until then.) But I write more than just children’s books.  

        My poetry I have always written for me. So do I really have an audience for it?  Yes,  and no.  It is always going to be how I cope with the world… It is more that then it is written for a particular audience. That being said,  the reason why I published it is because my coping mechanisms can possibly help someone else who may be in a bad place. Or not,  I am not sure it matters there.  My poetry is the clearest view inside of my soul. To tell the truth I publish it because I can.  I have lost so much of my poetry over the years… This is the way of preserving it digitally so I will not lose anymore. 

        Last but not least,  there is Serena’s stories. Anything that I write that is adult in nature will be published under Serena Mossgraves.  Currently that seems to be horror.  I am not sure if it all will be… I just know that I will not be doing erotica… It embarrasses me to write it.  So I figure her audience will be adults,  preferably who enjoy what I write.  

          All seems simple enough.  I only hope that I am able to create a story that someone likes.  

Poetic license 

Recently I asked for advice on my poetry… And it got me thinking.  The advice was given that I need to add smilies and metaphors in my poetry,  because there is no poetry with out it.  Now mind you I added some images,  but some poems just do not work with either.  I feel like I am missing something by refusing to accept that all poetry must have either of the two options.  But,  then I start to question… Who is writing the poem?  

                Yes,  I employ both in my poems,  but not always.  Some poems are just emotions in written form.  If all poetry was just comparison then where is the original ideas?  Images do not have to be a comparison to be evocative.  Sometimes the more you compare the emotional state with something else,  the more you lose of the original idea.  

        Do not get me wrong… I am grateful for the opinions offered,  after all it made me look closer at what I was writing and add more imagery.  I however am not sure that I am willing to completely change my voice because it doesn’t fit another person’s idea of what poetry should be.  

          What do you expect when you read poems?  Which of the poetry styles /rules are a hard and fast thing for you?  Please do respond.  I would love to discuss this idea further. 

Music soothes the mad poet… 

*image found on Google and only used for inspiration. 

            Recently I read a blog done about music and the effect it had on the life of the blogs writer.  It got me thinking.  So often life for me has revolved around the music.  The sounds of life have always been a rich and full part of who I am. I remember my Dad’s deep baritone singing “Amazing Grace” to me as a child. I remember going to see my great grandfather at his radio station and being enamored by it all.  I loved the poetry in the songs,  how it felt like your soul was understood by the person singing. 

          Grandma Ethel,  my Mom’s mom,  used to sit and listen to stories from her youth and she would share those with me.  Radio shows from another era.  She taught me to enjoy classical music,  how to close my eyes and visualize the music. 

         Music for my mom was such a rigid thing.  If it was not country,  she would not listen to it. And as a child,  in her house I was not supposed to listen to anything else either.  But daddy had records of all manner of song.  Stray cats,  and soft rock like it.  She would eventually learn to bend,  she grew to enjoy some bubble gum rock along with the country.  

                      I still remember the first time I heard real rock. My soon to be step brother had a cassette tape of Dr Feelgood.  I was eleven.  It felt wild and I was hooked.  I still enjoy country,  but I am eclectic in my music tastes. 

                Mind you I am skipping over bits of music and memory. I am trying not to ramble here.  The next influence was my first day of high school.  I was six weeks late because I had a child at fourteen.  I was scared to death of what high school would be. My elder step brother was dating this chick,  and man I looked up to her.  She was confident and sexy and badass. All of the things I knew I would never be.  Well she met me at the cafeteria doors holding a boom box.  It was blasting so loudly that the windows in the building were rattling.  Pink Floyd;  Another Brick in the wall part 3…Aka We Don’t Need No Education.  I can’t tell you how much better I felt about high school.  It was not that school was actually any better.  In truth it was a nightmare.  I just suddenly felt braver,  more secure.  

       Looking back,  every person who was ever a intimate in my life has a song.  My playlist is often a minefield of memories.  Some of which I have not even explained to my boyfriend of over twenty one years. Not because of anything other than the fact that I am done with the one who was once attached to the memory. 

        I may have been a singer and put my love of music to use,  except for the fact that I am unfortunately tone deaf.  I was not gifted with the beautiful singing voice that I would have loved.  It has not stopped me, i sang to my daughter.  I refused to deny her that bond,  both with me and with music. She still will ask for her lullabies when she is feeling bad. 

I sang four main ones to her.  “Hush little baby “,”the greatest love of all “(slightly mangled as i forget one verse), “rockabye baby ” (altered so mama catches as the original bothered me)  and the last is called the puzzle song. 

Lyrics for the puzzle song: *note I learned this is a chorus class in school and have no freaking clue who wrote it. 

I gave my love a cherry that had no stone,  I gave my love a chicken that had no bone,   I gave my love a ring that had no end,   And I gave my love a baby with no cry-in. 

How can there be a cherry with no stone?  How can there be a chicken with no bone?   How can there be a ring with no end?  And how can there be a baby with no cry-in? 

A cherry when it is blooming,  it has no stone,  A chicken when it is peeping it has no bone,  a ring when it is rolling it has no end and a baby when it is sleeping has no cry-in. 

What songs have made a difference in your life?  I would love to hear about them. 

Struggles, Beginnings and the peace gained 

     
           This is the garage door that started the journey for me.  I took this picture yesterday.  Six days from now I will have been with my boyfriend for twenty one years.  Some days that feels like a century… But I digress.  When we first got together,  his “grandma” (who was actually his adopted mother)  let us live in her garage.  She had a bathroom put in on the back porch of her house (and had him pay her back for it to teach the twenty one year old us about bills) but she never charged us for the utilities. At the time I was to headstrong to see the gift that she was giving us… She was stern and slightly scary to me.  I have learned that she really was an amazing woman since. 

          I can say that it was a struggle to make the garage into a home.  We ran gas lines for a stove.  We acquired a refrigerator from a local mission.  He and I slept on a large sofa we were given. I failed to appreciate the struggle then,  because at twenty one I was ignorant of the way of the world.  I had seen the darkness in man,  but I had really never had to do the housing thing.  When my family didn’t have a home I lived with my grandma.  So I always had a roof over my head.  The garage wasn’t even the worst place I have ever lived. I have lived ten people in a two bedroom trailer with no running water.  That is another story though. 

      Now Joe is working on getting the house.  He inherited a fourth of it and his adopted sister is giving him her share.  So we have only two halves to buy before it is ours.  This is a convoluted and stressful time for me.  I want to keep the memories of this house.  I want the stability for my family that the house will provide. But the house also has baggage.  Baggage in the form from of people who are currently in the house.  People who we are trying to get settled.  There is a lot involved with this. Add the fact that we are not able to settle in and you have the chaos of my life. 

      Then I looked at the garage door and felt like it had come full circle. Which is why I took the picture.  The feeling of peace came through in the picture. 

Names

What is in a name,  a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. ~Shakespeare 
So I have nearly always hated my name.  I have had reasons… And they seemed like good ones.  But it really came down to the fact that I never heard my name unless I was in trouble.  Not my full name anyway.  So I spent a hefty portion of my life looking at other names and feeling envy. I wanted to be anyone else,  and I felt that a lot of it was the name.  My full name is Patricia Lynn Harris.  So common a name.  Google it.  There are hundreds of Patricia Harris’s out there.  As a younger girl I would write as Susan Ann Andrews.  I adored the name Susan.  It seemed to embody all of the desire I wanted. I was even “Sassy Susie” on the Cb radio. 

         It was something that I always assumed would be my pen name.  I am not sure why I put my full name on the first thing I published. It was not something that I really thought out.  I was just trying to have my voice be heard.  After that it was a matter of principal.  I was already out as that name.  To change it felt like I was hiding from the past.  That was not something that I was willing to do.  

         So I did the poetry.  I did the kids books.  And I was doing all of it with who I was. Stories for my girl,  and poetry that was how I dealt with the emotional baggage of life. So I forgot about pen names. I didn’t need one. 

         Then my Joe,  bless him,  decided to be my muse.  He started giving me dark ideas.  Delightful ideas,  ones that I wanted to read. Ideas that hadn’t been written.  However the ideas were violent and really not kid friendly. So I found myself needing a pen name. I wanted something that was more true to who I was. 

              I am pagan.  I have a name that I use in my ritual times.  Serenity Rose Lace. I wanted to at least use some of this name.  So I chose to use a variation on Serenity.  Serena. I also wanted to acknowledge the darkness of what I was wanting to write… So Mossgraves.  It sounded good to me.  

               So that is where my Pen name originated.  What name would you choose,  If you could name yourself? 

Radio nerves. 

Zombiepalooza Radio Live

So I got the chance to sit down and talk to Jackie Chin from Zombiepalooza.  And I didn’t blow it.  I was definitely nervous but I had a lot of fun!  If you have not checked her out,  then you really should. 

Reminiscent 

Bare feet 

And heavy dreams. 

Atop the sky, 

Life was eternal it seems. 

Hidden forts, 

Behind bleachers, 

In the trees. 
Running about pretending 

That we would always be, 

Friends and dreamers 

In infinity. 
Innocence a haze, 

Setting the tone, 

Childhood a state 

Best when not alone. 

An introduction to the castle on the Island of Truth

              The castle has been there for two millennia,  home to beauty and tragedy. Most of it’s history has been revealed,  or so it is believed. Built of solid stone,  blood and sweat.  Dreams of happiness hide in the darkened corners inhabited by the ghosts of the castles grisly history.  
                     Lovingly restored before it drove it’s owner insane.  Now,  a group of ghost hunters seek to explore the castle and discover the secrets that lie within.  Five go in,  how many will survive?  And will they have their sanity in the end? 

                    Keep an eye out for information on Madness and Truth. By Serena Mossgraves.  

Blog Hyginks

So yesterday I was a busy blogger.  I really should be more regular in my posts…. But I am not good at regular. Now that I have the app on my phone it is more likely.  I am a creature of convenience. I try to improve my actions,  I try to get into the habits that I want to have. Still routine is not easy for me.  My life is very chaotic. I warned you with the tagline… Lol.  Crazy rarely is predictable.  Still,  when trying to deal with a blog,  and selling what I wrote,  I am aware that if there is no updates then I will have no readers.  So I will attempt to do better.  If nothing else,  I will try to share some of the awesome blogs that I read. 

Meet Serena Mossgraves

So I decided that I needed a pen name.  I am a poet and a children’s author.  The last few stories I have felt inappropriate for children.  So I decided that I might want a adult name for the tales that do not fit.  Now being as I struggle with doing the blog at all…. I really don’t want to separate the blog for both names.  I plan instead to note which of the two is the author if I speak of my writing. Thank you for understanding.I am hoping to update this blog a bit more often now as my phone has the app.