So I have started working on Serena’s Gathered Bones.
I have also started working on her Heaven’s Forgotten Tales. Which is basically a gathering of stories and poetry from her that she has published in various places. Much as Apocalypse athenuem is.
I realized that I am writing more – both as Patricia and as Serena Mossgraves. That I am doing a lot more daily work than I used to. So I might actually go through the future volumes I have prepared covers for…
So I am considering doing some covers for the fun of doing the cover design. And I am wondering if I should plan a future volume for Serena as well as for me.
It ends up being a little bit of a question as to whether or not I have been playing with the poetry with her or if she should continue to write it.
He was a- Ya know it He was a- I was walking down the street When out the corner of my eye I saw a pretty little thing approaching me She said, I’ve never seen a man Who looks so all alone Uh, could you use a little company? If you pay the right price Your evening will be nice And you can go and send me on my way I said, “You’re such a sweet young thing Why’d you do this to yourself?” She looked at me and this is what she said “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked Money don’t grow on trees I got bills to pay I got mouths to feed There ain’t nothing in this world for free I know I can’t slow down I can’t hold back Though you know I wish I could Oh, no there ain’t no rest for the wicked Until we close our eyes for good” Not even 15 minutes later I’m still walking down the street When I saw the shadow of a man creep out of sight And then he swept up from behind He put a gun up to my head He made it clear he wasn’t looking for a fight He said, “Give me all you’ve got I want your money not your life But if you try to make a move, I won’t think twice” I told him, “You can have my cash But first you know I got to ask What made you want to live this kind of life?” He said, “There ain’t no rest for the wicked Money don’t grow on trees I got bills to pay I got mouths to feed There ain’t nothing in this world for free I know I can’t slow down I can’t hold back Though you know, I wish I could Oh no there ain’t no rest for the wicked Until we close our eyes for good” Yeah You know it He was a- You know it He was a- Well, now a couple hours passed And I was sitting at my house The day was winding down and coming to an end And so I turned on the TV And flipped it over to the news And what I saw I almost couldn’t comprehend I saw a preacher man in cuffs He’d taken money from the church He’d stuffed his bank account with righteous dollar bills But even still I can’t say much Because I know we’re all the same Oh yes, we all seek out to satisfy those thr byills You know there ain’t no rest for the wicked Money don’t grow on trees We got bills to pay We got mouths to feed There ain’t nothing in this world for free I know we can’t slow down We can’t hold back, though you know, we wish we could Oh no, there ain’t no rest for the wicked Until we close our eyes for good
My 2 Cents –
This week was a headache day for me on schedule day. So I chose an upbeat song.
If I had only known the last time would be the last time I would’ve put off all the things I had to do I would’ve stayed a little longer, held on a little tighter Now what I’d give for one more day with you ‘Cause there’s a wound here in my heart where something’s missing And they tell me that it’s gonna heal with time But I know you’re in a place where all your wounds have been erased And knowing yours are healed is healing mine The only scars in Heaven, they won’t belong to me and you There’ll be no such thing as broken, and all the old will be made new And the thought that makes me smile now, even as the tears fall down Is that the only scars in Heaven are on the hands that hold you now I know the road you walked was anything but easy You picked up your share of scars along the way Oh, but now you’re standing in the sun, you’ve fought your fight and your race is run The pain is all a million miles away The only scars in Heaven, they won’t belong to me and you There’ll be no such thing as broken, and all the old will be made new And the thought that makes me smile now, even as the tears fall down Is that the only scars in Heaven, yeah, are on the hands that hold you now Hallelujah, hallelujah Hallelujah, for the hands that hold you now There’s not a day goes by that I don’t see you You live on in all the better parts of me Until I’m standing with you in the sun, I’ll fight this fight and this race I’ll run Until I finally see what you can see, oh-oh The only scars in Heaven, they won’t belong to me and you There’ll be no such thing as broken, and all the old will be made new And the thought that makes me smile now, even as the tears fall down Is that the only scars in Heaven are on the hands that hold you now
My 2 Cents –
This is the second time I am posting a grief song. This one is based on my daughter’s pet chicken. She went to sleep and didn’t wake up. Poor baby. So this has been a long weekend.
Yeah she’s my favorite Batman villain. But is she really a villain? or more of an anti-hero?
It really depends much on point of view. The problem is always POV.
For Harley. She is the Main character.
For Bruce Wayne, He is.
And realistically the same is true in any story. If you pick up a book and look at it from another character’s view…that character is not going to see themselves as a secondary character. Would you? If say you were in the DC Universe and hanging around the Daily Planet…would you see yourself as a extra in the story? No! So, from your POV you are the main character.
Harley would not see herself as a villain…
She is crazy, but not entirely without a idea of right and wrong. I believe she would see herself more as an antihero or as someone with a really nasty case of bad luck.
Which opens up so many options for the character in storylines.
I think sometimes just understanding the POV helps us to understand and perhaps flesh out the characters we write better. I think it also helps us empathize better with fictional characters on a different level as well.
There’s a war inside my head Sometimes I wish that I was dead, I’m broken So I call this therapist And she said girl you can’t be fixed just take this
I’m tired of tryin’ to be normal I’m always overthinking I’m driving myself crazy So what if I’m fucking crazy
And I don’t need your quick fix I don’t want your prescriptions Just ’cause you say I’m crazy So what if I’m fucking crazy Yeah, I’m gonna show you
Loco, maniac, sick bitch, psychopath Yeah, I’m gonna show you I’m gonna show you Yeah, I’m gonna show you
Mental out my brain, bad shit go insane Yeah, I’m gonna show you I’m gonna show you Yeah, I’m gonna show you
I’ve been searching city streets Trying to find the missing piece like you said And I searched hard only to find There’s not a single thing that’s wrong with my mind
Yeah, I’m tired of tryin’ to be normal I’m always over thinking I’m driving myself crazy So what if I’m fucking crazy
And I don’t need your quick fix I don’t want your prescriptions Just ’cause you say I’m crazy So what if I’m fucking crazy I’m gonna show you
Loco, maniac, sick bitch, psychopath Yeah, I’m gonna show you I’m gonna show you Yeah, I’m gonna show you
Mental out my brain, bad shit go insane Yeah, I’m gonna show you I’m gonna show you I’m gonna show you
Crazy, crazy Yeah, I’m gonna show you Crazy, crazy Yeah I’m gonna show you Crazy, crazy yeah
I’m tired of trying to be normal I’m driving myself crazy
And I don’t need your quick fix I don’t want your prescriptions Just ’cause you say I’m crazy So what if I’m fucking crazy Yeah, I’m gonna show you
Loco, maniac, sick bitch, psychopath Yeah, I’m gonna show you I’m gonna show you Yeah, I’m gonna show you
Mental out my brain, bad shit go insane Yeah, I’m gonna show you I’m gonna show you Yeah, I’m gonna show you
My 2 Cents –
For me today is Sunday. I always schedule the blog when I can on Sunday. Yesterday Arleen Sorkin passed away. Now I doubt that name will mean much to some of you. She was an amazing voice actor. One of the many that brought my favorite Batman villain to life. The first to do so. This song always makes me think of Harley Quinn. So, I am posting it with the wish that whatever her afterlife is be blessed.
Perhaps it is time to step back and look at things from a different point of view.
Boyfriend sneered that he was the only one to do anything productive today.
From his point of view I am sure that is true. After all…He does not read. Everything I did today was to further the amount of books in the world. Either that or scheduling the week here on my blog.
Neither thing is exactly physical for him.
Publishing does not make me a huge paycheck.
What it does do is make me feel better about the world.
The world without books is a very dark place. So many wonderful books end up not getting a chance because the author does not know how to be heard. I am trying to help those authors.
However I suppose if you do not like books then it looks like I am locking myself in my room every Sunday. I am being antisocial and just playing on my computer.
Doing stuff that he does not understand and is not a part of.
While he made up homemade chicken nuggets. (He really is a wonderful cook.)
Usually I at least keep him company while he cooks. Still, He does know that Sunday is my day that I have set aside to do blog, and book stuff. I fight to keep it that way. If I don’t then I would never have anytime allowed. He would expect me to be available all the time. Which is not fair. To me, or to what I want to get done.
So I am mad. I am frustrated. And I feel like I should do more work because I am mad. (I was supposed to join the family game when I got my work done. But now I don’t think it is such a good idea.) However if I do too much at once I court burn out. And I risk mistakes because I am working mad.
So I am sitting here bored. Because spite is a thing too. I did more work than I had slated for today. My arm hurts. I am exhausted. And I just wish I had a way to explain to him that my work is productive too.
Here lately I have been getting spurts of inspiration… and urges to write or create. It always makes me feel like I’m feverish.
I can remember when I wrote when the muse struck me and the idea of using prompts seemed like cheating. Now, the prompts are more like a spring board. I am often less worried about the prompt than I am what I want to say.
I end up feeling like the prompts don’t fit with the idea of the volume I have been working on and I pass them by. I get a vision of what I want the book to look like and then I just don’t want it to be anything less.
Now that leads me down rabbit holes looking for just the right prompt, just the right idea to be just the right poem. Perhaps perfectionism is a true problem…
I have noticed that the last few weeks weeks I have been doing a lot of talking about writing on my Wednesday posts.
I considered changing the post to Write Wednesday. Then I realized it is one of my favorite hyperfixations.
For the unaware – hyperfixations is a neurodivergent thing. It is a term for an interest that takes all of your attention. This can be a food, a song, an activity…etc. If you are not careful it can be a bad thing.
Imagine craving a sandwich and fixating on the idea. You find that nothing else has any flavor for you. You suddenly have no interest in eating anything else.
If you are lucky you can get the current hyperfixation and work with your brain and the quirks of the neurodivergency that is your particular flavor.
Welcome to the city of lies Where everything’s got a price It’s gonna be in your favorite place You can be a movie star And get everything you want Just put some plastic on your face This place is a circus, you just see the surface They cover shit under the rug You can’t see they’re faking, they’ll never be naked Just fill your drink with tonic gin, this is the American dream, so Sip the gossip, drink ’til you choke Sip the gossip, burn down your throat You’re not iconic, you are just like them all Don’t act like you don’t know, so Sip the gossip, drink ’til you choke Sip the gossip, burn down your throat You’re not iconic, you are just like them all Don’t act like you don’t know Keep drinking and acting cool Don’t care if your day is blue Nobody loves a gloomy face, just Take your pills and dance all night Don’t think at all, that’s the advice So c’mon, let’s try, it’s just a taste This place is a circus, you just see the surface They cover shit under the rug You can’t see they’re faking, they’ll never be naked Just fill your drink with tonic gin, this is the American dream, so Sip the gossip, drink ’til you choke Sip the gossip, burn down your throat You’re not iconic, you are just like them all Don’t act like you don’t know, so Sip the gossip, drink ’til you choke Sip the gossip, burn down your throat You’re not iconic, you are just like them all Don’t act like you don’t know So sip the gossip, drink ’til you choke Sip the gossip, burn down your throat You’re not iconic, you are just like them all Don’t act like you don’t know
My 2 Cents –
Gossip is a drug to some. A festering need. It is never truth. It doesn’t fulfill any actual place in society. If you hear anything about me – ask me. I will always tell you what the truth is… you might be surprised at the little amount of truth gossip holds.
I posted recently about evolution of poetry volumes.
I started Echoes into the void Yesterday(For me this is Sunday.)
And already the inspiration has been leaning towards a singular topic. That does not mean it will be the end theme…but that is often how it starts. I am amused by this.
And in Announcements – I have been approved to do the Poetry Marathon Half Marathon! I did it before in 2017. It is 12 poems in 12 hours. One an hour based on prompts given. I usually enjoy this sort of writing challenge. I will be posting the poems here as well. It is in September. (I have to look up the exact date again…So I will clarify more information closer to.)
