November Notes, Day 1, Solitary Writer

Thanks to Sarah Doughty and Dipendra Tamang for bringing us the third year of November Notes. I love writing poems inspired by their song choice.

The first song is “For This You Were Born” by UNSECRET Feat. Fleurie.

 

Solitary Writer

On the inside, looking out, on the tower looking around

at all the pleased people pursuing normality Continue reading

Advertisements

The Writer

This is written for dVerse. An “early” quadrille. And for OctPoWriMo, “See Me,” as in the the writer.

Continue reading

OctPoWriMo Day 7, Dear Writer

Dear Writer,

 

Practice everyday

even when words evade

Let them rise from you

your heart, your soul, your brain

Take risks, pour out despair

Care to create your truth

for there’s no one else who can

Write about what matters to you

for your passion will show

Write about what you know

and what you don’t

Play in the land of make-believe

Create worlds you wish to visit

make them vividly real on paper.

 

But mostly dear writer,

Listen to criticism, take what’s true

but never let it own you

so you never write again.

The same for rejections.

Don’t reject yourself.

Dream daily

Be sensitive

But never ever quit.

 

Signed, Someone Just Like You

 

Sascha Darlington

The Redhead and the Writer #amwriting

Thank you to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers!

I decided to go a bit upbeat today. We’ll see how that goes! 🙂

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The Redhead and the Writer

I’ve lost my mind. It’s the only answer. Maybe he’s not even here. Maybe he’s laughing and drinking a pint in a pub. Maybe I’m an idiot. Continue reading

Writing Reader Observation #2

“The greatest part of a writer’s time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.”
—Samuel Johnson

book

Lifestyle Interruptus

This is a two parter. Interruptions in thrillers and romances. Continue reading

A Writer’s Voyages

Who needs a plane ticket, train pass or vehicle when each day’s a voyage? You wash dishes, pondering a mysterious murder. You spray water on zinnias, considering Adrian the accountant’s motivation for leaving her husband. As you dust books, you’re ascending Everest, your lungs taxed. Is it altitude sickness? Stirring, fragrant pasta sauce, you imagine a Pegasus carrying you aloft, over a meadow into the mountains where fairies with glowing wings fly and where you wave your wand and chant: “let there be peace among humans and let them treat creatures humanely” and it is so.

 

end 6/24/2016