The title of the post is thought catching, Isn’t it. I finished writing Handprints on my soul today. I was trying to decide how to announce it, and the Release date – November 18th… On the blog and I ended up joking that it was the end of an era…and it just seemed appropriate. Each of the volumes feel like a section of my life…
So the era of Handprints is over. I looked through the covers and I think the next general volume will be Thoughtcicles. When I woke this morning I found it was cold. We are at the very beginning of fall. I love fall, but I don’t really like the cold. I feel like I have more trouble thinking in the cold. Since I will be starting to write this in colder weather I feel like it is appropriate.
I will be over the next few weeks starting the marketing for Handprints, alongside Not another Danny…and the other stuff that Fae Corps is releasing. But for today…Here is the last poem in Handprints on my soul.
The last poem. Literally. And somehow… I see eternity.
I am five poems away from finishing The volume Handprints on my soul…and I am struggling with my writing…Not because I am unable – obviously. I just have too many topics and too many thoughts… so many that I have been fighting Insomnia. The end of a volume is always an anxious time for me. It is when I question my writing. It is when I question my motives. It is when I question my value…
Yesterday I answered a poem with a poem. The first poem was written by someone I love very much. A child I had given up at birth because I felt myself in a poor position to care for them. The child is now grown and I am amazed by the similarity they have to me. Also a talented poet, they posted one to their Facebook page. I have in the past found it fun to respond to poets with poetry…A slightly odd behavior perhaps but I find it a fun challenge. (I have been specifically responding to haikus written by my friend, on his Facebook feed In haiku because I find the syllable count to be challenging.) So I did not think twice to do the same with my child. Their reaction surprised me.
They said that they would never be as good as I am. I responded that they already were. In some ways that is such a lie. I see their poetry as better than my own. I see everyone who writes as better than my own. I am incredibly biased. I will never stop seeing the flaws in what I write. Though I imagine that most authors do the same. The problem is though I have some days where my writing is brilliance…I also have the days where putting more than one word on paper feels impossible.
I have days that I feel like I am too insane to be allowed to speak – much less use my voice to put something into this world that will be around for an indeterminate amount of time. (That is what writing is you realize? Passing your thoughts into the hazy future for the random person to read.) And I end up feeding the darkness of those days with my own self doubt and anxiety. That is why I refuse to be jealous of other writers or artists. Why I just judge my work and no one elses (unless I am editing their work which is when I am trying to help them get it to a state of technical perfection…) I shy away from people who cannot understand that I do not require judgement or want to be around jealousy. Those things make me harder on me. Instead I need honesty and just simply to be accepted for who I am.
Today I am a poet. I am strange and I am quiet. I am introvert. I am a writer. I am an explorer. Who are you?
Ps I also seem to update the blog more at the end of a volume…mostly because as I stated…This is when I am questioning myself more so I end up coming here with the random thoughts of am I good enough…knowing that I will never hear the answer I am needing to here.
Well, there are no dead from a week of my shenanigans…though I may need more caffeine than usual. By this time, I have managed a poem posted daily and still got work done. It was not the most interesting week on this blog and probably seemed more like filler to y’all. Next week should be a little less busy for me, so I can hopefully get more content here that will be an enjoyable week. Though I may have killed my neighbor by then for the ruckus he is raising with his four-wheeler, I am not sure. I will also by this time have gotten to the doctor to see why I am getting migraines more often.
For all my shenanigans, I am hopeful that everyone will enjoy the beautiful anthologies I am currently putting together. The art and poetry are amazing. The stories are just what you need on a crisp fall day to put you in the mood for candy and spooky stuff.
So I have a list of “Titles” for upcoming Poetry books. Some with a theme in mind…others not. I know I am supposed to do a cover reveal thingy for each book, but this feels more fun. These are not in progress yet. I did the cover design because it was fun. These are going to be the ones I choose from when my current volumes are written. The idea is that eventually, I will have a poetry book starting with each letter of the alphabet. Which do you like best…and Why?
This one has two possible…have yet to decide which I want. It will be general poetry.
This will be general poetry.
This will be general poetry…but I think I am likely to lean a little bit into the idea of addiction here…not sure.
This will be general poetry.
This will be general poetry.
This is one I am working on. It is going to be entirely Political poetry. I don’t know if I am going to stick to my standard rules as far as the number of poems inside or if I will adjust for the book. I do like how it is coming together so far.
Also In progress right now. It is general poetry.
This is probably going to be religious poetry. I have been considering this one hard.
General poetry. How could this title be anything else?
Again General.
This is another where I am not sure which I like better. This one will be written in letter format. A sort of Prose Poetry. I have the idea only so far.
This one is uncertain. I have already done one volume of Love poems. Still I love the imagery in the title and the cover I made is so nice…It will be there if I am ever ready to do a second one.
Another cover I am not sure which I like better…
General.
General. I actually made the cover for a different author. He didn’t like it, but I really loved it. so I had to find a use for it.
This is going to be all LGBTQIA+ Poetry. I am Pansexual and have thoughts on the Queer that I have yet to put to words… This is going to be me doing exactly that.
General.
This has another cover – But I really like this one better. This one suits me better. It will be general poetry.
General
General.
This is going to be me exploring various poetic forms. I am usually a free verse writer. I think that it would be interesting to do a book with at least one of each of the forms. This is going to be difficult to write, but I am looking forward to the results.
General.
Gemeral.
I use Evernote to write. It keeps me organized…I have a notebook on Evernote for each of my poetry volumes. I have these all organized under a stack labeled Future Poetry Volumes. I include the cover in each notebook so I don’t lose it. That being said…I have a file on my computer for Publishing. Inside the Publishing File is a file for Book Covers. I organize that file too…so the file where my book covers live on my computer has folders for each volume. I have folders in there with titles and no cover. Those have yet to get to the stage where I am ready to make covers for them, I may do this post again in a couple of years with those titles. I don’t know. They would have to make it into my Evernote for me to write in them. At this point, they are interesting titles and nothing more. The ones on this list are in the running to be my next volume…Heck, my next volume was on this list.
So, which title and cover did you like best? Why? Is there a theme you think I should consider? I end up doing two or three volumes a year most of the time. So I feel like I will be able to do this list without overreaching myself.
Oh! also the three I posted two covers for….Which cover would you choose for each one? I really am having a hard time choosing.
So I know I missed last week…and here it is Sunday…and time to schedule my posts. I again don’t wanna. I feel like a child throwing a tantrum. I usually enjoy the blog. I enjoy the stuff I do for writing and for publishing. Still, I spent yesterday getting caught up on work I had put off. I wrote a poem, took out 2 bags of trash, did 2 loads of dishes, put up the finishing touches on 2 anthologies, and set the basics up for preorder for Death becomes her (Serena’s Poetry book). I still need to put the files together to finish that one. I only put the front cover as a placeholder – I need to format it properly and make the rear cover. So I sit down to work and I find myself ready to revolt.
I have lots of chores to do. The chicken needs to get its cage cleaned out. (We have 2 chickens and 2 ducks. One of the chickens was brought in during the winter due to illness and we have not got it back in the outside coop yet.) I need to clear my kitchen around my dishwasher – It is about to be replaced. I just got done eating and now have more dishes to do. I have writing to do. I have dusting and straightening that really needs to be done… So yeah I have things I need to do. I am sure there is laundry. Yet, I find myself rebelling at the idea of doing a single freaking thing. It is not just the blog.
This week is already setting itself up to be a busy one. I have promised to visit a friend. My new dishwasher is supposed to be installed. My little brother turns 40 on the 28th. (I have to harass him online on his birthday. it’s like required….lol) I have general housework that though it is not much will take me triple the time it would take anyone else. And I still have to shower, cook, and eat during that time.
And I still don’t wanna set up my blog. I think that I am going to try and do stories of my life again. Simply because it sounds fun. It means that my blog will update randomly this week. Y’all are so patient when I do that. I just really appreciate it.
I am also in discussion to possibly reprint an author that I have worked with on anthologies before. He is considering Fae Corps for the book that he had out. His publisher went under and I am hoping that I get to play with this wonderful book.
Raz is still hard at work on his second book – he missed the deadline because he is trying to put together the best story possible.
Our winter anthology (Darkness Screams) deadline is August 1st and the call just went live.
Seeking stories releases on June 1st. Grandmother’s Wisdom releases on June 1st.
Grandmother’s Wisdom is the first Charity anthology we are doing. 50% of the Author royalties – In other words half of what we receive for it…will be donated to No Kid Hungry. We felt like this fit the purpose of the anthology. It was meant to be a remembrance of our grandmothers. There are some really wonderful memories in that one.
Seeking Stories is a collection of adventure stories of all sorts. From the slight horror stylings to the futuristic. It has an all-star list of writers, poets, and artists.
Death Becomes her releases on June 18th. It is dark poetry from Serena Mossgraves. Quite a few of them are about death, In one form or another.
Okay, I feel like that is all…OH! and I dyed my hair Purple again. Yeah, that is all now.
This week I have been sharing some of the stories of my book. A lifetime of stories lived. Some of the stories I have lived will never be shared – for various reasons…some because they are not my story to tell(I am a mother after all) Some because the trauma prevents. So many lives are books stuck on dusty shelves. Never shared for various reasons. I need to share my stories. As a survivor of childhood sex abuse I felt like my voice was taken from me. For me, telling my stories is empowering. For others it is not. I would never try to force the telling of a life.
However, I also want to be clear. I am always willing to hear the story of the lives you have lived. I devour books like the dragon I am…and if you choose to present me with more to read I will revel in it.
Thank you for allowing me to share the stories this week. For me, it is the best form of immortality. I when I am gone will remain due to the book written by my words.
I have a huge family. My parents were each from families of five children. So there were lots of cousins. My grandmother wanted my brother and me to know our cousins. So every summer for a few years – I believe it was like five but the memories are so infused into my childhood that I am not sure, she would drive us out to my aunt’s farm to visit. Mom has three sisters and a brother.
Her brother was into cosplay before cosplay was cool. He did his costumes without a pattern. I used to have pictures of him in his spiderman costume with Stan Lee. He was one of my childhood heroes. Mostly because of how creative he was. I had a lot of childhood heroes that I could look up to. Still, he lived close so he was not involved in our trips.
One of the sisters was Navy. She lived in Florida and still does. She did not choose to have children till later in life. My cousins on that front are amazing, but closer in age to my son. So they were not around when we were doing these trips.
The trips, and the cousins, were based in Michigan. A gorgeous small community near the Canadian border…Boyne City. My one aunt had a farm and though I don’t know what the other aunt did, she lived nearby. The farmer had two boys, one close to me in age and one closer to my little brother. The other aunt had a boy and a girl. The boy is elder than I, I am not sure by how much, and her daughter was my age. We stayed at the farm when we went. I remember drinking milk straight from the cow and riding ponies. I remember my cousin telling me dirty jokes in the barn. I remember all of us kids playing in the coal shute – it looked like a black sandbox. Then we were all thrown in the bath together because we were covered in coal dust. The summers there were amazing.
Now this story is about one of those trips. We lived somewhere between Virginia and Maryland. Grandma lived in Alexandria. She lived in basically the same place my whole childhood. That is why I often claimed her place was home. She had a station wagon…much like the one pictured on the top of the post. The trip between home and my aunt’s farm was a long one. We would drive up and back. On that particular trip, we were somewhere in Ohio on the way to the farm. Grandma was having trouble with the car, and she never did…but it was not acting right.
I remember her deciding to get off at an exit that was coming up. She took the exit ramp, and it was one of those that turned around and went in a circle. She was going slow, because it was an exit ramp, and thank goodness she was. I remember her cursing…mind you when I say she rarely did. The next thing I saw looking out the window was the passenger side rear axle and wheel rolling away ahead of us down the exit.
She somehow managed to get us pulled off of the ramp into the grass. This was way before cell phones…and she had two little children with her. My brother was a toddler. I am seven years older than he, and we stopped those trips around the time I turned eleven or twelve. I am not sure but I believe that this was on the last one. If it was I really can’t blame grandma. We walked to the nearest place where grandma could call for help.
She was good at handling emergencies. Obviously, we survived, but I remember it being a huge thing. I remember the fear when we saw the axle and the wheel rolling away. Yes, It was worse because it wasn’t just the wheel. Somehow just the wheel would have been comedic. This felt like we were in real danger because it was more than the wheel.
So many of my memories from childhood are based around trauma, mostly because that is what cemented the memories into my brain. This one is both different and not. Though the fear was there… I knew I was safe. This one has all of the wonderful memories of the trips attached. The cousins that I got to visit and know because of them. Two of those cousins are gone now. The little farm boy who told me dirty jokes lost his life on a snowmobile. The daughter of my aunt passed away as well – due to more natural causes. So all I have left of those cousins are the memories of summers spent in childhood. If you can, let your cousins know you love them. I am lucky enough to still have the cousins on my dad’s side.
Well, this was not supposed to be a dark story. I was trying to tell it for the fun oh my goodness type tale it used to be. Now I am melancholy at the loss of the cousins. So I will leave the blog well enough alone, maybe tomorrow I will go back to posting the normal stuff. It depends on how I feel in the morning.
Pattimouse 