Names

What is in a name,  a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. ~Shakespeare 
So I have nearly always hated my name.  I have had reasons… And they seemed like good ones.  But it really came down to the fact that I never heard my name unless I was in trouble.  Not my full name anyway.  So I spent a hefty portion of my life looking at other names and feeling envy. I wanted to be anyone else,  and I felt that a lot of it was the name.  My full name is Patricia Lynn Harris.  So common a name.  Google it.  There are hundreds of Patricia Harris’s out there.  As a younger girl I would write as Susan Ann Andrews.  I adored the name Susan.  It seemed to embody all of the desire I wanted. I was even “Sassy Susie” on the Cb radio. 

         It was something that I always assumed would be my pen name.  I am not sure why I put my full name on the first thing I published. It was not something that I really thought out.  I was just trying to have my voice be heard.  After that it was a matter of principal.  I was already out as that name.  To change it felt like I was hiding from the past.  That was not something that I was willing to do.  

         So I did the poetry.  I did the kids books.  And I was doing all of it with who I was. Stories for my girl,  and poetry that was how I dealt with the emotional baggage of life. So I forgot about pen names. I didn’t need one. 

         Then my Joe,  bless him,  decided to be my muse.  He started giving me dark ideas.  Delightful ideas,  ones that I wanted to read. Ideas that hadn’t been written.  However the ideas were violent and really not kid friendly. So I found myself needing a pen name. I wanted something that was more true to who I was. 

              I am pagan.  I have a name that I use in my ritual times.  Serenity Rose Lace. I wanted to at least use some of this name.  So I chose to use a variation on Serenity.  Serena. I also wanted to acknowledge the darkness of what I was wanting to write… So Mossgraves.  It sounded good to me.  

               So that is where my Pen name originated.  What name would you choose,  If you could name yourself? 

Reminiscent 

Bare feet 

And heavy dreams. 

Atop the sky, 

Life was eternal it seems. 

Hidden forts, 

Behind bleachers, 

In the trees. 
Running about pretending 

That we would always be, 

Friends and dreamers 

In infinity. 
Innocence a haze, 

Setting the tone, 

Childhood a state 

Best when not alone. 

The Junkyard Zombie 

                   They are definitely not your average family.  They live in a junkyard.  And they are a big family.  But when the dead walk,  well,  they handle it.  Survive first.  Figure out why later.  

        Meet Chris Robinson,  former marine special forces, and his family.  Shara,  his 13 year old daughter.  Amara,  his wife.  Tara,  former navy seal, and Lizzie, scientist, his younger sisters. The rest of the family are there but as the dead start to get their rotting asses back up,  how many will remain? 

Will they be able to figure out the why?  And what caused the dead to walk??? 
*picture for inspiration only.  Found on Google *

An introduction to the castle on the Island of Truth

              The castle has been there for two millennia,  home to beauty and tragedy. Most of it’s history has been revealed,  or so it is believed. Built of solid stone,  blood and sweat.  Dreams of happiness hide in the darkened corners inhabited by the ghosts of the castles grisly history.  
                     Lovingly restored before it drove it’s owner insane.  Now,  a group of ghost hunters seek to explore the castle and discover the secrets that lie within.  Five go in,  how many will survive?  And will they have their sanity in the end? 

                    Keep an eye out for information on Madness and Truth. By Serena Mossgraves.  

planning and prompted writing

images-3.jpg

I have been writing more lately.  This is a good thing.  my poetry is flowing. And the stories are trying to do the same. this is where my issue is.  I am not a planner when I write.  So when I have a dozen stories vying for space in my mind and am only one person…. well it means that I get so far in a story and lose track of where it should go. which is entirely frustrating. Planning the story only causes me to loose focus quicker. I am not saying this to whine.  it is just the way that I am.

So I am feeling that frustration with my current story and I set a deadline with my editor.  What that means is something ends up being forgotten in my struggle to make the story fall into line. For me… I am sorry to say… it has been this blog. I wanted to apologize for this.  I will likely be lax in posting until I am finished with this one and sent to the editor. I hope that you understand and return to see me after the 27th.

Next Time You See Me

The next time you see me
I will have changed,
Even if it is only a day
In between.

The next time you see me
My views of the world
Will have taken me
Down places that I may not
Even be able to explain.

The next time
you see me
Wish me well,
As I will you…
For you can never know
When the next time
You see me will
Be our last.

Originally written to respond to status on Facebook.

Since you see the darkness
that surrounds,
Your eyes are wide.
But in your disdain
You judge…
Not that I think you wrong,
Yet still it seems that
Judgment taints you.

Paints you,
With a brush of hatred formed.
See their actions
And look away,
For sadly you may
Never understand
That which drives them
To hate.

Hide disdain and sneering glares,
For tis themselves
Their hate brings down.
You are better
For not being involved,
For not allowing yourself
To them to devolve.