Check out my colleague, Alex Schumacher, and his column about writing rituals. Just click the link below.
Irreverent, hilarious, and REAL.
Alex Schumacher’s Column in Five2one Magazine: Breadcrumbs from the Void #14
Untitled from Life drops
The broken heart
Drips the ink,
That from the
Poet’s pen will leak.
Verses torn from
Pain so barely borne,
Written with a soul
Determined to grow.
Reaching out in word
To staunch the flow
Of ink from the ever
Sharper pen.
I am writing!
Vacation seems like it should be a bad time to write. It’s work, right? Still for me, at home I find it harder to actually set the time aside for writing. Too much else to do. So much household chores that never seem to be done. Too many distractions, social media and other entertainment options. I realize I should be more disciplined about my writing, but if I structure too much, my muse will abandon me. I have spent two hours today writing. Cleaning up my projects helped. I backed up a couple of projects that really aren’t working, and cleared them from my writing app. I rewrote two pages that were lost in a save mishap. I wrote more on a couple of my works in progress. I wrote another poem for Life Drops. I am also of course writing this blog post. Still. I am doing so much better on my vacation with my writing than I do normally. I have no internet to distract. No housework to distract. I only have my kindle and my family. I am hoping that I can publish the second book in the Bedtime tales series before summer ends. I am aiming to finish one of the other books (full novels) before my 45th birthday. That gives me a little over three and a half years. 🙂
Illustration installation
I am pleased to announce that I found an illustrator for Bedtime Tales: The Princess Lost. Her name is Shannon Alyce Riddle. I look forward to publication soon. I will keep you updated.
Personal safety
In a time of such marvelous inventions coming out, I am appalled by how many are designed to protect women from assault. Now don’t misunderstand. I am not saying women should be raped. I am not saying that the inventions are bad. I merely am appalled by the need for such items. I am a survivor. So I taught my children personal space and responsibility. I taught my son to respect women. I taught my daughter that her body is hers, and no one has the right to touch her without her permission. Yet, I know that there are people out there who would anyway. It kills me to know that someday she will not be safe. I am allowed the sadness that the world is not a safe place. I asked her what she would do if someone tried to grab her, tried to force her to do things against her will, and my beautiful twelve year old girl said ” I will kick him in the leg, then the nuts and I will scream! ” While crass, it feels good to know she won’t be a easy target. She doesn’t separate. If it’s someone she knows who tries to force her to do things or a stranger. Her body is hers. And I have made sure she knew it. I cannot help wondering if more children of both genders were taught that concept how the statistics of sexual assault and abuse would be? After all abusers seduce. They convince the child that even though the child is not comfortable with what is being done, that it is something the abuser is allowed to do. I mourn the need for the devices to “prevent ” sexual assault because I believe that if as children we are taught not to do or allow certain behavior… well as adults it wouldn’t happen. At least not as often. The ones who did at that point would be seen as deviants. They would then be treated as the criminals that they are.
Yep, this one got me giggling.. All too true.
Sunday Songs
In light of the tragic and brutal attack on the Orlando night club, The Pulse (NYT ARTICLEHere), my Second Sunday song post to my blog is Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On.”
From Wikipedia, Marvin Gaye
What happened in Orlando is a sobering reminder that we as a species still have a long way to go in our evolution.
“What’s Going On” was released just a few months after my 4th birthday, but you better believe I knew this song by heart.
As part of the soundtrack of my life, Mr. Gaye’s hit was played (on original vinyl) in my grandparent’s home with such frequency they had to keep a stock of needles to play it on the record player that thumped out all kinds of music, from Motown hits to Classic Country to Rock ‘n Roll.
So, enjoy this segment and light a candle for all who…
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Honesty Is Brave
Poetry normality
I am a poet. My children to my pride have shown themselves capable of great pieces. Now I should mention that I have not always felt good about my poetry. I have so often been told how depressing it was that I took it to heart. However, I wrote because it was how I healed. As an abuse survivor, I learned that I needed an outlet for the poison that was forced into my soul. Or I would not ever be whole. So I wrote to heal. I wrote for the love of poetry. So I would never be as good as Emily Dickinson or Edgar Allen Poe. I wrote because it was part of me. I did not force anyone to read what I had written. So if it was depressing…. that was fine. I could accept that. Then I was talking to a social worker. I mentioned that my poetry was considered depressing. Though I think she was being sarcastic, she said something that got me thinking. She asked “Isn’t all poetry?” There are various types of poetry that express different emotions. Discounting sad poetry is basically like saying that feeling sad is unacceptable. Poetry should be able to have a nice range of emotions. It is after all an expression of the poets heart in word form. Then someone else I care about said that his beautiful poetry was so sad. My response “Poetry is often sad. I’m told mine are depressing. Just because they are sad doesn’t have to deny their beauty.” Not every poet can write greeting card poetry or love poems. And abusing the poets whose writing causes other emotions is not acceptable either.
May You Rise From The Ashes
A broken person is a person without hope. People become hopeless and break when they feel defeated by life’s messy ways.
Divorce, death of a loved one, loss of jobs, loss of all we have ever known, loss of a sense of belonging, fear that there will never be anything more than pain and sorrow.
We stay broken when we cannot process our grief and anger or rise above the fear and try to figure out how to go about life another way.
Those who are chained by the expectations of others, society, and their own guilt have a hard time being authentic in each moment.
Hope, being oneself, courage to live one’s life despite any setbacks are how we become strong at our broken places.
It sounds easy, but it’s hard work.
And anyone can do it.
All one has to do is believe.
Put your shoulders back. Stand…
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Pattimouse 