As the moonlight illuminates
the world around me,
that is when my muse awakens.
Though the whole world
is closing its eyes,
and I find myself wanting
to settle in weak and weary…
the muse is insistent
I pickup the pen
and bleed again .
everything is in chaos,
political awareness
is enough to drive most of us
to the brink of death...
so I have decided that I will be found
hidden within my books,
hidden from the news,
hidden from the fear...
hidden in worlds written
to create personal peace.
in a time when dystopia
is current events,
I will choose fantasy,
romance and poetry...
to carry me away.
So I posted about an anthology that Serena is in. It really is such a lovely book. The other authors are amazing…and I can’t help feeling like I don’t belong there. The story I wrote was decent…I am not going to claim it was awful or any crap like that. But there is an Introduction in the front of the book that lists that authors as the top horror and dark romance authors…And my brain goes ok now I am guilty of lying to these amazing people.
Imposter syndrome is such a tough thing to grapple with. Most of the best authors I know fight with it. It can seriously cripple even the best writer to a mess and make writing a defeated blank on an overthinking mind…
So, I am struggling with my own brain. I don’t want to accept the idea that I am unable to tell the stories locked inside the squishy lump calling itself my brain.
I actually waited longer than I usually do. Lost Notes is completely written and scheduled for release. I usually ask 5 or 6 poems from being done. Help me to choose the next volume?