the process-ing; editing drafts

Featured

I wrote this piece nearly 5 years ago. Until now, I feared it being read by anyone but myself. “What would others think? What if they don’t get it? Or like it? What if I’m a shitty writer?”

I’ve outgrown such small, ego-filled thoughts. It’s time to share this piece. There is change in the air and it’s time to come out of my forest of shame and isolation, creatively speaking that is. Some pieces can’t be returned to for years. It takes that time and space to edit a piece objectively and with fresh eyes. Let the wounds heal, form scars and tougher tissue to cut away later.

I’d rather not provide too much context to this piece, and let it hit you where you let it.

What does it say to you? Where in your soul does it resonate? Let me know.

Namaste.

working title; golden handcuffs

“I wonder if it will happen again today,” she thought, “though the food is good when it does.”

Looking down all she could see were people. People with cameras snapping photos of her and the others. “How strange,” she wondered as she closed her eyes and returned to sleep. 

her rumbling stomach woke her and simultaneously incurred an ominous feeling. “It’s about that time,” murmuring under a heavy breath. She saw the young man in the white gown approaching. “Oh bother.”

There was a decision to be made. It could go one of two ways; Be uncooperative and return to an uninterrupted but irksome afternoon of endless flashes of light. Or cooperate and be rewarded.

“No matter what the flashes will disrupt my sleep. And if it’s not today it will be tomorrow. Or the next day. Might as well get it over with.”

The gowned man called for her. Shuffling down she noticed the faces of the others and the surprise that she went so freely. She sauntered toward the opening where the man was waiting. “Here we go.”

She could smell the sweet golden goo already. Her sensory receptors perked up. But at the same time something kept her excitement subdued. There was a feeling she remembered on her skin. A memory of what she would have to endure soon. 

Another was being taken out. Their eyes connected. “What’s different?”

Something small was missing that had been there earlier. It was almost unnoticeable but the absence was there. 

She was given something sweet, picked up and placed somewhere hard and cold. There were people in blue gowns and gloves were waiting in a line. All eyes on her; their collective gaze felt predatory, like she was about to be devoured.

The first blue gown sat next to her smiling. She couldn’t understand the desire of these blue-gowned people to sit with her amongst the ceaseless flashing. 

When she felt gloved hand rub her belly, the sweet food grew bitter. “Oh yeah,” she remembered, “this is what this is.” 

#shortstories #shortstory #theprocess #bloodtexts #letitbleed #writer #writing #writeitout #writingcommunity #drafts #goldenhandcuffs #metoo #timesup #create #write #writingheals

bloody news

It’s hard to watch these days, isn’t it? A long time ago I stopped watching as much “traditional” news and switched a primarily satire only diet. The Daily Show and shows and voices alike led my thinking along with a liberal education. From a young age I developed a healthy level of skepticism when it came to the media.

Now, in these times of crisis and so much unknown, we are turning to media, our phones, the news, politicians, entertainers, local leaders, and of course, each other for information and support during these times. It helps us keep together but it can also promote fear, anxiety, and chaos if the information is bad. It’s hard to find the good these days.

I find the good and a decent amount of infortmation watch Samantha Bee, Stephen Colbert, Seth Meyers, and others like them during these depressing times. I need the laugh and their satirical perspectives to endure the rest that quite simply makes me want to cry.

So what do you do to find the good? How do you find good news and differentiate between fear mongering and telling it straight?

Grind on, my friends ❤

#blog #bloodtexts #news #satire #stephencolbert #thedailyshow #samanthabee #fullfrontal #thelateshow #alateshow #quarantinelife #write #writer #writing #writingcommunity #goodnews #badnews #blogposts

strange times in the 509

Finnegan’s Way,
proof reader, fetcher, barker

Welp, my city, Spokane WA is all but locked down due to covid-19 and being stuck at home all day most days sucks. But this fur ball makes it easier. He helps the process of processing this trauma we as a society are experiencing collectively and my personal, individual traumas I’ve been lugging around in my baggage for years.

He helps me slow down and sort it through, and provides cuddles and kisses when necessary. Being his mom makes my life better in so many ways. Even the mundane things like refilling his water bowl bring me more calm, sense of peace, the subsequent joy and fulfillment is an emotion I never knew possible.

Yes, he digs up the yard sometimes and barks at the birds who won’t play with him in the morning but he learns every day and loves harder than any other being I’ve met in this life so all in all he is a wonderful puppy.

I hope you and yours are doing well during this strange times, and you have a furry companion to keep you company, inspire your work, and remind yourself to give love unconditionally…to yourself, to your pup, and to others. Even if that means staying home and six feet away from each other.

Take care, y’all. Namaste

the sun also rises

“isn’t it pretty to think so?

The last six weeks have been difficult creatively, stifling. I’ve felt blocked from producing and connecting with certain feelings— I’ve avoided pain and old wounds, long festering under bandages to keep hidden until fully healed.

This line from the #thesunalsorises has rattled around my brain for nearly two decades, and everytime it comes up again I find some thing new in the short question. This time it is melancholic and brings a certain sadness because I know some things can only be written, exist only on paper, and not in real life. That some things have to die in order to being about new life.

So here’s to new life! And the sacrifices that had to be made to get there. Skol!

the process; second drafts: blood texts: notes and poems from the underworld

#0

#1

the above and the following poems from a journal I filled over the course of 8 months. with this journal I dedicated myself to writing more poetry, sitting with my feelings, the hard ones to write. during that time I wrote over 30 poems and I wanted to share some here as I go through the rewriting and editing process, and the journey of putting together my very first chap book of poetry. these primes were typed in a Royal quiet deluxe.

so welcome, thank you for being here and joining me while I venture into unfamiliar territory. lets see what happens

#poems #poetry #poetry-community #writer #writing #typewriter#antiquetypewriters #royaltypewriters #royalquietdeluxe #bloodtexts #typedinblood

frequency

morning poems are my favorite

If you lost someone this year or ever, I feel you and your loss; the hole in your heart that can never be filled; the voice you long to hear; the words you wish to read…nothing could ever replace them and their role in our lives. But we can grow, process and heal from the loss into something or someone greater. Not better, but more connected, more ourselves. So feel all the feelings, my friends. And write the hard ones to feel; those ones must be felt the most.

#bloodtexts #drafts #poetry #feelyourfeelings #writing #just write #writer #poet #poems #firstdraft

the process: drafts; too to two

one day i’ll get around to editing and typing the 50 or so poems waiting in various journals and papers about but until then i’ll continue to enjoy the feeling after freshly penning something new; that feeling after it flows from the brain through the ink onto the page. is there any truer magic? ✨✨✨

#poetry #poems #poet #draftone #needtoedit #handwritten #bloodtexts #poetryporn #theprocess #writer #justwrite #magicwords

the process; continued; draft 2

waitin’ on war daddy

I wrote this after a cathartic yoga session, and after watching the movie Fury, written and directed by David Ayer. I first saw this film when I was in China and have recently be craving another viewing. After doing so, I understand why.

Both my grandfathers served in World War II; one a test pilot, the other a plane mechanic and bore sighter. Both important, dangerous jobs. This solstice I remember and honor their dedication to freedom and family, and for giving me the ability to follow my passions. It took watching this film again to start to comprehend what they went through at that time in history. Most certainly, they both were examples of the #GreatestGeneration.

#poetry #poems #poet #writing #writer #poemsbasedonmovies #writers #bloodtexts #solstice #greatestgeneration #worldwar2 #Fury #movie #davidayer #postyogapoetry