Perhaps I should have called this blog "Shameless Promo the Sequel" but I digress.
I've succumbed to Beckett Grey disease. I want to write an novel, just to say I've done it. So following the example of my prolific fellow staff member, I've decided to try my hand at a serial. It's a fantasy story, a genre I've been reading since middle school. The title is at present "A Parliament of Thorns" which satisfies the gradiose part of me that hopes this sees publication, thus fullfilling a lifelong dream. A few folks have already taken to read the first installment for which I am grateful. This is a departure from my usual poetry, flash fiction heavy style. I'm enjoying it, and I think having a deadline of 1000 words a day may help keep me motivated.
Stop by take a peek, tell me what you like, and more importantly what you don't. All feedback is appreciated.
Nicotine Prose and the Cons of Inactivity
First off thanks to Jess and Malthis who's comments on my last blog inspired me to write something about my feelings on my former addiction to cigarettes, a habit I give up only grudgingly, seeing as how I truly enjoyed the habit. It's entitled Front Pocket if you'd like to read it. It's been up for almost two days and has unceremoniously fallen from the front page without even a whimper. Is it so horrid that no one wanted to tell me? I'm hoping people just didn't see it at all.
But I know for a fact that part of the reason why I'm not getting the response and views I'm used to is directly related to my almost 60 day abscense from this community. There are so many people here who have no idea who I am, that I'm staff, and that my work is usually not atrocious.
So with that said, I'm gonna put a lot more effort into my time at Lit, post more, comment more, and browse less.
Just as soon as I get back from vacation.
Damn my horrible timing.
Should I continue?
Writer's block has een kicking my ass of late. I've been totally bereft of creative energy and when I try to force it just a bit, I come up empty handed. ut today I've had a small breakthrough, but I'm left wondering if this one has enough promise to finish.. So I'm posting it here for some feedback..
So with further fanfare.
Why must you cover your
that crooked smile
with magenta bangs
razor cut, like your
of profound prafanity.
Why do you blow
clove smoke in my face
and salute with one
in an impromptu
display of regard.
Why would you smother
between the covers
of that batttered notebook
crammed in your back pocket?
Don't you know my thoughts
are just as black?
That's all I gots at the moment... Is it worth continuing? Or should i move on to something else..
Suggestions, comments, I'm all ears.
A Clarification is in Order
I feel the need to offer some clarification on some commments I made in my last entry.
Having reread the entry in question, I realizze that I came off much more morose and whiny than I ever intended. My writings were meant as more of a observation and lament to the fact that so much of my quality work comes from a dark and unhappy place.
I do realize of course that I can and will write about more light hearted experiences, including moments of sheer joy and contentment.
The outpouring of advice and encouragement that I have recieved in response has been astounding. This is truly a group of caring and supportive writers quick to come to the aid of one of their own. My hats off to all of you, that family atmospere is what has kept me here for so long.
There's no need to fret, I have every intention of channeling the "new muse" that Malthis mentioned and putting out a somewhat different type of poetry int he future.
Thanks again everyone.
Happiness: the Anti-Muse
Once upon a time, I was pretty prolific when it came to posting new work. I know the first few months of my now long tenure at Lit. averaged almost a new post a day. Nowadays I struggle to put out two to three quality pieces a month.
What's the change in my life that has left my muse all but silent in the last nine months? I could chalk it up, to my recent marriage and the birth of my son, along with some drastic changes in my work life, but I'm afraid that wouldn't be accurate. The real reason for my lack of creative energy is the simple fact that I'm happier now than I've ever been.
Not that I'm complaining, make no mistake there. I am simply noting that as a poet, I am fueled by the unfortunate, tragic, and painful moments in life. Creating has always served as an outlet for those negative experiences, a way to make something beautiful and lasting out of something painful and fleeting. It's easier to write about pain and loss than to express contentment and peace. At least that's my experience.
I find myself wishing that I could be like other poets, such as Penelope who can take the simplest and most mundane of subjects and breathe life and magic into them.
Writing brings me a unique joy, and I find it horribly cruel that the emotional place I write from, so often has to be one of sorrow and regret.
That's all for now.
Write Off Woes
I'm sad to report what is painfully obvious by now. I will not be competing in this Poetry Write Off. Due to an unforseen, but temporary illness of the gastrointenstinal variety, I spent the majority of the day yesterday wearing a thin spot in the carpet between the bedroom and the bathroom. My apologies to all for not making good on my intent to compete.
But for your enjoyment Penelope and Kitten Courna have both submitted excellent pieces. Please support them by both vote and comment.
And finally, many thanks to Darkshine Raven for providing a topic for this Write Off on such short notice. I am in your debt.
A Different Muse?
This word count challenge I'm trying is turning out beautifully. I just posted a new poem entitled idiosyncratic routine and a happy to say that it seems to be getting a good bit of positive buzz. I'll admit to being a bit inspired by the title of a fictional comic book in Kevin Smith's Chasing Amy and stealing a character description a bit backhandedly from Charles De Lint's Newford novels. Jilly Coppercorn anyone?
However the sentiment evoked is all me.
I used to be shallow, I'll admit it, although I know I had no right to be. Poetic talents aside, I'm certainly no prize. It's amazing how much your perspective on things changes when true happiness just sort jumps up and slaps you in the mouth.
But that's not the real point of this entry. I was a bit astounded when Malthis, who I've know since I was a freshman in high school, suggested that he really enjoys this "new muse" of mine.
Someone forgot to notify me of this change in personel. I personally think that I'm sort of a one pony show when it comes to my poetry. I tend to focus on romance and emotional topics. Women both from my present and past, dreams and nightmares always find their way into my work. I find it all terribly limiting, but nonetheless return to the scene of the crime often, with little shame. It's what I seem to do well.
Maybe I'm too close to the topic to see the supposed shift. But either way I may just take a look at some of my earlier work and see if I can spot something.
Adios for the moment.
Blogging: Voyeurism for the Electronic Age
I've been out blog hunting, reading the innermost thoughts and dreams of complete and total strangers. While I haven't come across anything really salacious yet, there's a part of me that wonders if that's not part of my facination with blogs.
I'm sure that many people would question why anyone would put themselves out into such public consumption. I certainly did at first before I realized that blogging is a somewhat more honest form of communication that the tons of poetry and fiction we have here at Lit. All writers put something of themselves into their work. Most of it lies hidden beneath poetic liscense and metaphor or the persona of a fictional creation, but it is there.
Blogging is just much more in your face, less artifice and more substance in many cases. But the question remains, why do they do it? Is it a need to be heard by someone, even if it's a faceless stranger, or is it the anonymity of the internet allowing the author to present themselves in any light they choose without any real fear of judgement? I can't say for fact, but I would venture that level of percieved honesty is what makes reading blogs so popular. Its like reality televison, people like to watch.
Voyuerism is alive and well on the internet, and I'm not just talking about online porn.
Until next time..
Some results are better... than none at all
Well after attempting to come up with ten lines of poetry at one setting I found myself left with only five.
A tanka style ode to the first unabashed bisexual girl I ever knew. I'm not sure how I ended up with that particular topic, but the journey in this case matters less than the destination. At least that's what all of the scribbles on the yellow Post-it notes seem to imply.
The title of the Poem is Sappho, which should illuminate the meaning well enough if I didn't do a good enough job with my imagery.
Hopefully some folks will take a peak and give a fellow some feedback. It was after all an experiment, and all experiments need results.
After reading someone else's blog, my apolgies for not remembering who, I've decided to give myself a minimum number of words to write each and every day.
I think I'll start with 100 words of prose, or 10 lines of poetry. I'm sure the numbers match with the blog I read earlier this morning, but what does it matter as long as it helps me get back into the swing of writing again.
I'm also planning on signing myself up for the next Poetry Write Off. Looks like I'll be competing against Kitten Courna, Enforced Bliss, and someone else I cannot recall. That'll likely be this weekend. I'll just get someone else to give me a topic.
Survivor: Laboratory of human behavior
This entry is in response to Malthis' comment on the previous entry on the addictive nature of the above mentioned reality program.
I would have to agree that what makes the show so supremely watchable is that is a microcosm of interpersonal relationships. It's easy to see peoples best and worst traits magnified to the nth degree because of the promise of a million dollars. The petty squabbles, the fingerpointing at even the most honest of mistakes, as well as the hidden agendas and schemes.
Real life actually plays out in similar fashion. Poll a cross section of college and high school students and you'd be suprised at how similar your findings would be to any given episode of Survivor.
That's why I think that the show has stayed on for so long and has such a rabid fanbase. Everyone can identify with one of the castaways and thus is pulling for said castaway to go home a million dollars richer.
With that said, I do realize that each episode is carefully edited to make the events as dramatic as possible, and that certain cast members likely have only one side of their personality that makes it onto our televisions at home. But no one can deny and say they didn't say or do a certain thing, but the beauty and curse of the editing process is one af a lack of context.
Is Rupert as nice a guy as we would like to believe he is? Or have the networks simply edited out his bad behavior to make him more likeable? Who knows, but I certainly enjoy championing his cause. I'm sure he's just playing the game in his own Machievellian way, but it's certainly entertaining.
Reality Television: Crack for the New Milennium
It all started with MTV. The Real World to be specific. Viewers everywhere tuned into to see the trials and tribulations of "ordinary" people who has their every move taped round the clock in a lush living space in the Big Apple. Voyeur T.V. had begun.
Other than the occasional bout ...read more
Is this thing on?
Well this is sort of like talking to empty space, disconnected microphone in hand wondering if there are people hiding under tables in this darkened night club. So with that said I'm gonna ramble on and if no one reads it, so what. I can stop listening to the echoes in my head either way.
I'll start by saying that Writer's Block sucks. It's killing me! Once upon a time I would put out a minimum of a piece a week here at Lit. and now I'm down to maybe once a month. I feel the quality is better than those early days, but there is something about posting tons and tons of stuff that really made me feel like I was accomplishing something.
The Write Off has stalled largely due to my lack of free time and various and asundry computer problems. But I have all intentions of doing a Poetry Write Off this weekend.
I'm engrossed in rereading Martin's Song of Ice and Fire for like the third or fourth time. I'm getting myself ready for the release of book four in the series and I'm hoping that reading something as well crafted as these books will kick start my creative juices somehow.
Well I suppose that's all for this episode of my ramblings.