Writing Friday

Writing. Crap. What do I say? Do I sit here and try to explain that, at least for me, writing is something akin to breathing? That there’s never been a time when I didn’t need to put words together? And then I would have to tell you just how it feels to read what I wrote and think that I am not cut out for this. How many people who I know personally who are brilliant at this whole writing gig. Still… I would have to mention that the idea of stopping is actually painful. It has been how I was able to see the answers to life, since before I ever realized that there was a question.

Usually, I try to use the Friday post to give tips, and help with the whole writing and publishing thing. And I think that is great to keep the blog going… But today I was thinking about the reason why I write. Yeah… I could probably claim that I was trying to add beauty. But I don’t generally lie. My art is more how I do beauty. Abstract and pencil drawings to encourage happiness in the eye of the beholder. My children’s books are a way of connecting with my daughter, as they have thus far been stories I told her, or wrote for her. Serena’s stuff is stories that I want to read. But if I am honest with myself… My main writing is my poetry.

My poetry will never be hallmark stuff. My poetry is raw emotion and survival. I have lived a survivors life. My poetry is how I have been able to express myself even when my voice was stolen. I could write my story… Even though I was being told I lied. I could write it and it was accepted because it was poetry. It was written in a way that meant I was non-threatening to those who were part of hurting me. And it was written off as just an angsty teen writing depressing poetry… For don’t we all have that stage?

After I was free, and I was no longer needing verse to speak my truth, well it was still the easiest way to speak my pain. To spread my views. It was habit. I may never be able to sit along with the likes of Poe or Dickenson… But my words will remain. I will be there when another lost soul seeks to know that they are not alone.

Advertisements

Migraine madness.

I normally do either teaser Tuesday or tech Tuesday… And I still might. But as I am fighting back a terrible migraine…. It will be later in tomorrow before I am able. Thank you for your patience.

Pad pain

poetic asides

Today that prompt was one that I have had for a while. Broken. And I was battling a migraine. So I have considered it before and only came up with cliché poetry. Today that prompt was right.

Migraine headache means that writing is cruel as I use electronic means only. Arthritis pain means handwriting is not a great idea. So I am struggled with even doing a poem.

Day five

poem a day challenge

Prompt a private poem.

This one is a bit of a thing for me. I don’t believe in secrets. I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. The word secret carries some tough pain with it. Please if it has to be a secret, don’t do it…

My thoughts, and other imaginary things

Fighting the mental gremlins mean that even though I feel inadequate, I keep going. For me this often means writing, even if I feel like it is not something anyone wants to read. I have been sharing my poetry more lately on my Instagram. My reason? I am getting the reactions there. It makes me feel like I am pimping out my soul to ask for reactions, but I end up using the positive feedback to boost myself in the fight against the voice in the back of my head… You know that voice… The one that tells me how awful I am, how awful my writing and art is.

I have been avoiding any posting of opinions lately, mostly because I have been feeling less than qualified to have opinions. Much less speak them. What that means is that I have been hiding behind my poetry a lot more lately. I finished and published Music For The Soul. I am about thirty poems into the next volume (Poetry Kisses). I am also looking into helping to promote other authors through my blog. (Which would give me more to post here as well as help with promoting my fellow writers.)

See, I firmly believe that as a writer, I should be helping other writers. I am not in competition with anyone, and the world can only benefit from others who are writing. Lately, I have been seeing controversy over trademarks in the writing world (specifically the romance genre…) I watched horrified that it was even a consideration. How is a single word causing so much trouble.

So I have been watching that and keeping my opinions to myself.

I will be trying to post more information as I receive it about the promoting.

Miscommunication hazards

It hurts to be ignored. I was invited to help with an interesting project. I was to blog about a apocalyptic anthology. Then it was suggested that I might be able to contribute… By the editor, not the organizer. The organizer became very angry with me for contributing a poem as I was asked. So today I see her asking for female zombie writers. So I am doing the best for my mental health and walking away from the project.

I will still write (as Serena Mossgraves of course) apocalyptic fiction. My book (Rust, Gore, and the Junkyard Zombie) will be live on May first. I want the other authors in the project to do wonderfully well. I just will not be giving any more whispers of that project. I have been asked to assist with another anthology, and I will be posting more on that as it comes closer.

Please forgive my need to no longer speak of a project that I was obviously never wanted for.

Capability vs self worth

(Picture borrowed from Debbie Burns, head unicorn and founder of Debbieburns.me all rights to it are hers)

My writing mentor posted this picture earlier. It brings up a topic that I believe I would like to try and tackle. I have no doubt of how capable I am. I am aware of my strengths, my flaws, and the areas I need to work on. Still I have moments where I question my worth.

Now I could blame my past for that doubt. Claim that I am flawed because no one has ever seen my worth….but I really hate that. It is possible to both know your capability and to doubt your worth. I am a strong and open minded individual, still I struggle. I don’t see what others claim is talent. I see a lifetime of fighting. Of me trying to be half of what those around me said I was.

I struggle because this is the path I see. I stuggle because I refuse to quit. Perhaps the above is true, perhaps some can see the ability within and it will set them free…still not all of those who are struggling fail to see their own capability. I am a strong woman, I have a generous heart. I am creative, with a quick mind. I am a survivor who has learned to be more….still I have days when I don’t understand the love everyone around me has for the broken soul I am. Days when I am the one that sees too much of life and has no way of processing it.

This is just part of being me. Those who love me generally understand those days. They are quick to reach to help me understand why I am loved. And even then I understand my capability…even as I have no understanding of my self worth.