The queen has fallen. The queen is dead.
Long live the republic in my head.
The wound is still fresh
It puckers, it bleeds,
it is sprouting weeds
of what used to be
you and me
sitting neath trees
listening to the rustle of
our ancestors leave
while we wonder
about what used to be
god i hope you
return to me
For as long as I can remember I have loved writing. I don’t remember exactly when the bug took hold but I pinpoint it to the early millennium when I was in the first throes of my pop music obsession and needed an outlet to deal with it. I don’t know why, but I decided to write about the various pop stars at the time (You know Britney, Justin, Nick [both Carter and Lachey], Jessica and Christina) in this fangled melodramatic soap opera. I say this with fondness.
I didn’t write again seriously until I was in my late teens. Picture it: Britney’s in and out of rehab. I’m in and out of the hospital. How do I deal? By writing poetry and…journaling? I picked up more than medication while I was hospitalized. I picked up one of the greatest habits of my life. Did I hate it, at first, having to journal three times a fucking day? Are you kidding me? It irked the shit out me. Something in it appealed to me though because I continue to do it to this day whether I’m happy, sad, elated, or bored. I have a deep need to reflect back on things and seeing as my memories can play tricks on me it’s nice to have a written record.
Writing has always been something I’ve done for pleasure, but for the past few years I’ve been chasing that elusive goal: to be published. I was published albeit on a tiny scale and you know what? Nothing changed. I got what I wanted and while I was excited, of course, my old feelings of not feeling like I measured up and needing to prove myself still came back.
I’ve been focusing so much on trying to get published that I lost sight of why I began to write in the first place. Because I love it. Writing seems more like a chore and not something I look forward to. It seems like *gasp* a job! Not a career!
I’m determined to change that. I’m going back to the basics. I need to find my love for writing again. I know one thing for sure: I’ll enjoy the ride.
I have been looking for ways to increase my writing speed. Recently I purchased two different, but similar books.
They both recommend keeping track of your writing sessions and I, being intrigued by the idea have done so for the past week. I’ve experimented a tiny bit with where I write, but I tend to be at my desk. But what I have noticed is that the time varies widely and this affects my writing rhythm.
I have started seven erotic short stories in the past few days. I have completed all but two.
Compared to the one completed and six left unfinished from last year.
My most productive times seem to be in the morning and afternoon. Between those two time periods, I completed the five stories. Compared to three uncompleted stories from the same period in 2015.
My least productive writing times are in the evening and night. I only completed one story in the evening (here defined as 6 pm to 9 pm) vs the four left unfinished.
So even though I WANT to continue to write as much as I can I guess it goes against my body’s rhythm. I honestly never thought I would be a morning person, but it seems to be working for me at this moment.
Have you discovered your writing rhythm? If so what’s the best time for you?
*Author’s Note: Poem originally appeared on AllPoetry.com
Penny for your thoughts
Quarter for your crisis
No, my daughter wasn’t kidnapped by ISIS
She’s insane you see
She’s lost her memory
She won’t get help
She fucking hates me
She thinks I took her baby
What left of it there was
She thinks I made her abort it
In the tub
Now she thinks that
The doctor is telling a tale
She won’t stay off that damn
So what should we do doc
She’s had an epiphany
We’ll just tell her
She’s going to hell
*Author’s Note: Poem originally appeared in the Spring 2015 issue of Spectra, the literary magazine of Louisiana State University at Shreveport
What a fucking
pink cake being
stuffed down my
the money. Two
for the show.
more breath and
frosting don’t let
Your life is not
your own. Too
much sugar means
you’re too sweet.
and you’re not
good enough to eat.
Just the right
Amount and it’s
will be another
slice. But not
nearly as good.
Today’s meme comes from the Ramblings of a Coffee Addict. As soon as I saw it I was intrigued. I had to think about it. I wasn’t sure at first. As much as I’d like to keep a reading journal, I haven’t been able to keep up with it. So off to Goodreads,
I went. They have a very handy stats page that had the information I needed and I, being the nerd I am wanted to see it as a chart. So behold!
While compiling these I realized that I had started college in 2014 and not only could it account for my decreased number of books read, but also how many books I chose to read during the summer.
For one thing in 2014, my first semester was in the summer so I had to get used to a new environment and not to mention I hadn’t been in school excepting brief GED classes in almost seven years so I had to get used to the experience again.
In summer 2015, my grandmother got sick and I took care of her for awhile as well as going back and forward to the hospital so that accounts for that number as well.
I wonder how this data would look if added previous years…project maybe?
*For the record I counted Jan., Feb., and Dec. as winter and June, July, and Aug. and occasionally Sept. as summer
I wanted to post today. I have a lot of going on right now and reading and writing is helping me keep my mind occupied. The problem is though that I have a ton of books to read and as my taste tends to lean towards drama I decided I wanted a comfort read. So what better way than to return to my favorite genre of all genres? Historical romance! I picked books by authors I’m already familiar with because I am so not in the mind space to get used to a new writing style, a novel length at that. I want something that’s going to occupy my time for a while, but won’t demand a lot of me.
Here are the blurbs for the three books I’ve chosen.
Brighter Than the Sun by Julia Quinn
When Charles Wycombe, the dashing and incorrigible Earl of Billington, toppled out of a tree and landed at Ellie Lyndon‘s feet, neither suspected that such an inauspicious meeting would lead to marriage. But Charles must find a bride before his thirtieth birthday or he’ll lose his fortune. And Ellie needs a husband or her father’s odious fiancée will choose one for her. And so they agree to wed, even though their match appears to have been made somewhere hotter than heaven…
Ellie never dreamed she’d marry a stranger, especially one with such a devastating combination of rakish charm and debonair wit. She tries to keep him at arm’s length, at least until she discovers the man beneath the handsome surface. But Charles can be quite persusasive—even tender—when he puts his mind to it, and Ellie finds herself slipping under his seductive spell. And as one kiss leads to another, this unlikely pair discovers that their marriage is not so inconvenient after all… and just might lead to love.
My American Duchess by Eloisa James
The arrogant Duke of Trent intends to marry a well-bred Englishwoman. The last woman he would ever consider marrying is the adventuresome Merry Pelford— an American heiress who has infamously jilted two fiancés.
But after one provocative encounter with the captivating Merry, Trent desires her more than any woman he has ever met. He is determined to have her as his wife, no matter what it takes. And Trent is a man who always gets what he wants.
The problem is, Merry is already betrothed, and the former runaway bride has vowed to make it all the way to the altar. As honor clashes with irresistible passion, Trent realizes the stakes are higher than anyone could have imagined. In his battle to save Merry and win her heart, one thing becomes clear:
All is fair in love and war.
Cold Hearted Rake by Lisa Kleypas
A twist of fate…
Devon Ravenel, London’s most wickedly charming rake, has just inherited an earldom. But his powerful new rank in society comes with unwanted responsibilities . . . and more than a few surprises. His estate is saddled with debt, and the late earl’s three innocent sisters are still occupying the house . . . along with Kathleen, Lady Trenear, a beautiful young widow whose sharp wit and determination are a match for Devon’s own.
A clash of wills…
Kathleen knows better than to trust a ruthless scoundrel like Devon. But the fiery attraction between them is impossible to deny—and from the first moment Devon holds her in his arms, he vows to do whatever it takes to possess her. As Kathleen finds herself yielding to his skillfully erotic seduction, only one question remains:
Can she keep from surrendering her heart to the most dangerous man she’s ever known?