Tag: Writing

One More for the Road

I am now at four works in progress and I’m beginning to think I am the problem 😏. I don’t think I have it in me to write a full-length fiction novel. I get bored and “stuck” very quickly and throw what I’m working on to the side so I can start something new. I mean, I never could read an RL Stine book without skipping to the last chapter, so why would I think I could write all the way through?

My “voice” is strongest and most authentic when I’m writing non-fiction. I have masked for so long that it’s hard to allow myself to come through, but I am learning to do that and it’s most evident in my poetry and new WiP. But even with poetry, I get feedback that I use a lot of classic and traditional words and phrases. I’m not totally sure what that means, but people agreed with the analysis, so it wasn’t just one person.

Anyway, for my advanced creative writing workshop, I have to write a “primary piece” that is not my normal genre (which is poetry). I chose non-fiction because I am most comfortable with that, and I started writing about my life. I’m about 2,000 words in and it’s already painful. I’ve been sitting here crying out of hurt and anger.

First Day of School!

School is back in session! We had a week off, which is awesome because I am suffering from school burnout pretty badly. This term, I have a “new media” class and an advanced creative writing workshop. The new media is about writing using different media, mainly digital (online), from what I can tell. It’s a requirement for my English/creative writing major. The advanced creative writing workshop is the last workshop before graduating, and from what I can tell with it, I have to write in a different genre than my major concentration. My concentration is poetry, so I have to write something that’s not that.

I think I’m going with non-fiction because I’m eyeing writing a memoir. I have a second poetry collection and two fiction novels started, so I’m going to have another work in progress in progress 🤣🤣. I’ve been hesitant to declare I am writing a memoir because my ADHD has my memory in shreds and I’m honestly not that interesting. I think writing essays would suit me, but I really don’t understand what that means. I think of schoolwork when I think of essays, not full-on novels.

I did read a book in class by a popular essayist, Dave or Dan Sedaris (I’ll look him up in a minute), and that gave me some insight, but I don’t know if I could do it. I’m not interesting and don’t have a lot to say on multiple subjects even if they are stories from my life. Plus, my brain goes eighty different directions on a good day, so wrangling my thoughts for several essays sounds intimidating. Okay, the essayist is David Sedaris. I had to read Me Talk Pretty One Day, an intentional title that nonetheless drove me bonkers.

Adam has philosophy and literary theory this term, both classes I’ve taken. I chose the philosophy class as it’s an elective but it was kind of boring to me. It was an easy A, but didn’t make me really think about things like I assumed it would. Of course, when I am passionate about something and want to talk about it, I get all flustered and confuse myself so I can’t have coherent, rational conversations with people 😒. Most of my thoughts on certain subjects culminate in me fervently stating, “I hate people!,” and Adam’s like, “Yeah, I know. Me, too.” Real head-scratching debates take place in this house. One such subject that my husband and I agree on (we disagree on some things because we are autonomous) is inclusive, “tolerant” people being intolerant to intolerant people.

Now, of course, online that is met with hatred, ignorance, and name-calling. Obviously, I’m a bigot, racist, sexist, transphobe, homophobe, etc., because I think for myself and don’t have utopian delusions. You have the same values as me? That’s fine. You have differing values than me? That’s fine, too. People I come into contact with online cannot wrap their heads around this and it’s gross. I have a large family, and some are left, some are right, some are middle. We all get along. No, we don’t all agree on the big three (religion, abortion, sexuality) and that’s fine. We can feel how we want, vote how we want, and remain friendly and a family.

In terms of the online space, to say you are tolerant and inclusive, then boot people from online communities that have nothing to do with values or politics or whatever you want to call it, that’s just…not being tolerant and inclusive. Reddit is really bad about it, and there are people there who freely and loudly admit to creeping on users and banning those users if they visit or join communities the creepers don’t agree with. Like, WTH, people? That is not tolerant and that is certainly not inclusive. The people being kicked aren’t starting crap and politicizing anything; they’re actually the ones sticking to the sub’s topic, unlike the “tolerant” people on a power kick. I’m getting myself irritated so I will stop there.

I bought security cameras after our riding lawn mower was stolen from our driveway, which is a bad time to buy them, but I didn’t know they would be affordable and I didn’t know some losers would steal our mower that had a flat tire (I didn’t know Adam had left it in the driveway, either). They were $17 apiece and are HD and surprisingly nice cameras (Wyze). They alert me when people, pets, vehicles, or packages are detected and I was alerted twice yesterday that a pet was detected on the porch. My thought each time was it was Gandi and our flowerbed is a Pet Sematary, and I stopped myself from checking the footage both times. We now have Sprinkles, Merlin, and Gandi in our flowerbed in front of the driveway.

Crafting Stories and Managing Chaos

So, it’s been fun here! I’m totally burnt out on school, but I think I only have three classes before I graduate! Plus, one of my classes next term is another workshop, and I really like those. Yay! I was working on my first novel (crazy, right?), a few thousand words in, and just really having a hard time with it and thinking it stunk and I stunk, so what did I do? I started another one! I’ve switched from third person present to first person present and I have more words with this second one than I did with the first, which the former took me weeks. I am enjoying the story more and really want to know what happens.

Oh, and authors, if you want a great program to do your writing on, you have to get Scrivener! It is the best writing/editing program I’ve ever used. There’s a steep learning curve with it but after you get comfortable, it seems like the features are very intuitive. Plus, there are tutorials users have written which are very helpful. I’ll screenshot below, which is the program with a theme I selected (Mellow Yellow). The normal program is normal colors and normal font 😊. For $60, it is a steal, and no subscription! I used it to do my poetry collection, and the ebook and print copies look very professional.

Part of Adam coming back from the dead is him actually giving a crap about things and he’s totally not used to it. He’s started thinking about things I always have to think about to run the house and he’s not too fond of it 🤣🤣. Unfortunately, a couple of negative things have occurred. He’s begun thinking about his past addiction (kudos to him for telling me), which I get because he’s a metaphorical runner and tries to get away from dealing with life in any way he can, and he’s been staying with me in Mom’s room for the past month.

Now, I don’t mind him being in here at all, but having the dogs together all day can get nerve-wracking. I was used to cuddling with Ollie and him sleeping by me, and now he’s always playing with Nev or sleeping with him. Plus, the two bozos are very unaware of themselves and others, so when they come in and have a poop run through the house, they jump on the bed and right on me while I’m sleeping! Not a great way to wake up. They are also very butt-y, and I’m getting hit in the legs with butts every time I’m walking 🙄. A good thing is Neville is so smart and easy to train and Ollie tries to follow his lead when I try to teach him something…sometimes. We are working on them not running ahead of me or bowling me over when I take them out, which they are learning. Nev knows what “get back” means and Ollie watches him and scoots back and sits down, for the most part.

Oh, I also have my cat, Phin, and Adam’s cat, Willow, on the desk all the time that they aren’t in the window. I legit have a small litterbox sitting on the desk in front of me because Willow is skittish around the pups. Oh, oh!! I was cleaning out my desk drawer and Willow decided it would make the perfect bed, so…

I need to repaint my desk 😒.

Then, Phin thought that was a good idea, so…

And I’m happy to report they found a great compromise…

Since I don’t spoil my kids at all, I have the top of our small ottoman on the desk, top down, and a bath mat in it so they each have a place to sleep if they don’t want to share. Ah, family…

Dishle While You Work!

It’s been a minute, and not a lot has happened and a lot has happened 😕. I don’t know if I can recall everything. Firstly, and sadly, I’ve sold less than ten copies of my book — nine, to be exact. It is really depressing and makes me sad, especially knowing that my book’s part of Kindle Unlimited and people who subscribe to that can read it at no extra cost to them. Two of the nine copies were from people we’ve never met. Adam plays the XBox with a sweet couple in another state, and they bought a hardcover copy. A guy we “met” through a Facebook group for a true crime podcast bought a paperback copy. He’s such a nice guy, and we occasionally talk and check in with each other. Those two were among the first ones to buy my book, and I am very grateful.

Since publishing my poetry collection, I have decided to write a novel, which is rather ambitious of me! It feels right, though. I’m only around 5,600 words in, but I’m having fun with it and am excited to learn what is going to happen. It is a supernatural(?) novel about a woman who has visions that occur only while she is painting, and there are dire consequences if she refuses to paint to avoid seeing things. It sounds much better in my head. I think it would be categorized as YA (young adult). It includes a love story which is kinda-sorta based on Adam and me. I’m still writing poetry, and my second collection is in progress.

Mom’s dishwasher finally broke; it was 20 years old this year, which is commendable. I got a new one and had a bit of a meltdown when it arrived because it was not what I wanted. They aren’t cheap (several I looked at were over $1,000!!), and I wanted affordable but not the cheapest and one with a metal tub, so I chose what was described as a hybrid, which I thought meant the bottom with the heating element — what I would call the tub — was metal and the sides were not. Well, the entire dishwasher is plastic and only the door is metal 😒😒😒!! I don’t consider that hybrid.

I spent days researching dishwashers and didn’t just pick the first one I came to, so I was very upset and cranky. Returns and refunds were very convoluted and slow for large appliances, so I decided to try it out. However, the warranty really sucks, so if it cracks, which is something that happened to one reviewer, I’m just SOL. I’m very dropsy and I’m aware of that, so I take precautions like using plastic dishware and cups, so I acknowledge that I will most likely drop something in the dishwasher. I still don’t like crying in front of people, but it just happened while Adam was installing the dishwasher and Adam was very understanding. He is so good at trying to understand my emotions and responses to things out of my control or expectations.

Everyone’s flea medicine stopped working and we are all suffering. Everyone has been treated, but the dogs’ medicine is not working and they are miserable 😤😤. I chose flea collars this time because both of them are 100+ pounds and noncarcinogenic flea medicine for that weight is harder to find. My poor boy looks like a lion because his bottom half is nearly bald from his scratching!! I’ve sprayed them, bathed them, medicated them, and sprayed them some more and nothing is working. I’m trying another medicine and returning the worthless collars.

I think that’s about it for updates. I’m suffering from major school burnout, so that’s fun. I’ve also entered Luke, which I can talk about next time.

In the Garden of Remorse Free Preview

Check out the poems titles and read my introduction for free! Also, if you have Kind Unlimited, you can read the entire collection!! I would also be more than happy to sign any paperback or hardcover copies.

I’m Published! Grab Your Copy!!

Well, after a big snafu, my first poetry collection, In the Garden of Remorse, is available on Amazon! I accidentally published it while trying to order a proof copy 😫. A dear friend from California purchased the version with some formatting errors, but he said he would treasure it, warts and all. All versions are available right now, including Kindle Unlimited!

I did not know independent authors still got screwed on the royalties. I had to price my paperback to a ridiculous price (especially for new authors) just to get a little over $5 per sale. I think I get around $3 per sale for the ebook. That would be fine if I had a following or could do decent marketing. No one follows me or cares what I have to say. Oh, well. I’m not doing it for the money, but it would be a great perk. Due to unpopular demand, I’ve decreased all prices 😒.

I hope I make a sale that isn’t family or friends 😂. I need a hype man!

~*~Influencer~*~

Radiate the skin and multiply the melanin.  

Smother the pores with powder and oil.  

Line the lips and eyes like a practiced cartoonist.  

Grind the teeth down and cover with synthetic ones — 

fake teeth for fake smiles.  

Walk on tiptoes with calves at full attention.  

Self-medicate to eradicate the hate.  

Compress the organs — sway the bones.  

The camera adds ten pounds — 

best lose 20 or 30.  

Minimum mass for maximum exposure.

~*~A Fish Named Henry~*~

I won a goldfish at the county fair.  

Poor goldfish — seeing that ping-pong 

ball looming toward his home like Apophis.  

His golden body glistened in the sunlight 

as he swam in a bowl won from the dime pitch.  

With the pride and confidence of any fish parent, 

I changed his water at the sink — and watched 

in horror as his slick orange body 

slid from the bowl and down the drain.  

The horror!  The absolute tragedy!  

Propelled by child’s logic, I fled 

the house and ran down to the creek bank 

to tell my brother and neighbor what happened 

and asked if they saw Henry swim out of the pipe.  

My brother deciphered my mucoid blubbering, 

then promptly laughed at me.  

Weeks later, our neighbor told me, 

whilst fishing, he saw a big goldfish 

swimming around and looking happy.  

It took me a few years to realize 

the truth, but when I did, I didn’t 

appreciate it any less.

~*~The Oven~*~

My brother says something from the top bunk.  

What did he say?  

I pop my head out and look up.  

Bam!  

I see red — 

Mom!  

Feel warmth gushing — 

Dad!  

Do I cry?  

I should cry.  

Into the tub I go.  

The water turns my favorite color — 

I’m lying in Barbie water.  

My brother burst my strawberry — 

My birthmark.  

Am I dead now?  

Is that how it works?  

Mama called the doctor 

and the doctor said — 

She’s fine.  

But what had my brother said?  

I ask him.  

I was telling you to watch out.

~*~Colors of Death~*~

Death leaves a mark 

on those left behind — 

A tattoo on the soul,

a rainbow of lines.  


The deep green of envy 

for those who’ve not lost — 

Blissfully ignorant of 

what love really costs.  


The anger burns white, 

much hotter than red — 

It courses through the chest 

and leaves a lingering dread.


Yellow is the fear 

to face the world alone —

A fear of being lost

in a world of unknown.  


Blue is the calm,

a serene, soothing haze — 

Not one to remain,

it hits us in waves.  


Red is the love, 

the one thing that’s real — 

It’s something to cling to

while we try to heal.