Blogger Recognition Award!

blogger-recognition-award-2017

Here are the rules:

1. Thank the blogger who nominated you and provide a link to their blog.

2. Write a post to show your award.

3. Give a brief story how your blog started.

4. Give two pieces of advice to new bloggers.

5. Select (up to 15) other bloggers for this award.

6. Comment on each blog to let them know you nominated them and provide a link to to the post you created.

A big thank you to Kiwinana for nominating me for the Blogger Recognition Award.
Didn’t know that there was such a thing until now but I’m super grateful!

How my blog started:
I haven’t been blogging on WordPress for very long but it’s been really fun sharing my interests and my thoughts thus far. I initially intended to keep my blog entirely private. However, it’s been far more rewarding sharing my writing and experiences with others. I do appreciate every comment and ‘Like’ that I get. It’s encouraging.

Two pieces of advice to new bloggers:
My advice is quite simple…
1. Do what YOU love
2. Love what you do

Nominations for the Blogger Recognition Award:

1.  Short Poems and Other Nonsense – https://christophermcgeownwriting.wordpress.com

2. L. Burton – https://lburtonwrites.wordpress.com

3. Stories – https://storiesto.wordpress.com

4. Poems In a Coffer – https://poemsinacoffer.wordpress.com

5. Eyes + Words – https://eyespluswords.com

Golden Sleeper.

As she slumbers, her head rests on the lap of a shining, winged minister.
It’s hand, made of sunbeams, caresses her candyfloss curls.
It sings a melody into her ear.
She does not hear it now but when she wakes, it will be like a quiet whisper lurking just beneath all the world’s noise.
She smiles wistfully with bruise-coloured lips as she, in a dream, walks in dewy meadows, hand in hand with her love.
Affection blooms. Petals of crimson velvet unfurling at her breast.
Soft.
Gentle against her skin of pure gold.

On The Second Act…

For this ‘novel’ I decided to go with a three act structure. I’m now approaching the second act [everything is about to go even more awry for my protagonists. More fun for me]. This is not without some anxiety. Being the first time I’ve ever written something of this length, I’m hoping that the second act can live up to all the promises I’ve been making in the first. It’s an epic fantasy and, therefore, needs to be EPIC. I really hope it will be.

Also, I did mention that I’ve been trying to keep the cast numbers down just to make the story manageable. It’s been hard not to create so many interesting characters that I would love to explore even further BUT for the sake of the story and my sanity, I think it will be necessary to do some character-culling…
I see a gruesome 50,000 words on the horizon. This story was never going to be sunshine and rainbows.

[Ramblings] On Feminine Beauty…

A lot of mental and emotional energy has gone into daily dismantling the lies I’ve been fed by a culture that does not see the inherent value and dignity in women. Woe to the false gospel of feminine beauty. The ‘to be a real woman you must behave that way, look this way, weigh this much’…
I try to silence these heretic voices.
Hear no evil
I shut my eyes to the music videos, the movies, the images online, the magazines.
See no evil…

It’s taken a long time but I feel, at this present moment, I am happier being the young woman that I am than I have ever been. The message has sunk in. Beauty is gentleness, kindness, love, joy, peace, patience, long-suffering. 
Feminine beauty is NOT measured by how much one can attract a mate. 
I step out of the house confident, content with the way I look because I know that I was not made for the male gaze.
So to the lady that told me that I need to dress more ‘sexily’…thanks but no thanks.
I beg you.
Speak no evil…

My body is not a community project. Never has been. Never will be.

[I write bad poetry too]…Blessed Is SHE

Blessed Is SHE

Throat like wellspring

Teeth like gold nuggets

Tongue that spits wisdom

To water 

her seed.

Mind like jewelled crown

Wings like iron

Belly like waterfall

Flowing milk 

and honey

To nourish 

her seed.

Blessed is SHE. 

On Problem Solving With a Small ‘p’…maybe

A story is like a jigsaw puzzle. You know what it’s going to look like at the end. As you write, you’re putting together the pieces and sometimes it doesn’t just go right…

At the end of last week, I encountered an issue with the way my story is progressing. I had one of my characters make a decision which I’d planned for in my outline. However, when I looked at it in light of previous events it just didn’t seem to fit in as well as I’d hoped. Annoying. Because they had to make this decision for the story to move along. So I’ve skimmed over it and will come back to it later. I get the feeling that editing is going to be a LOT of work and a lot of rejigging. I’m trying not to think about it too much and just get the story down. Fingers crossed that the story won’t fall apart because of it. *sweats a little*

[I write bad poetry too]…Son of Man

Son of Man,
You carried me on Your back
As I watched Your bare feet meet the jagged rock
Strewn across Sinai’s steep face.
Flint cuts and open wounds
Broke up your calloused skin
And the rough stones dug deep.
Pushing against You.
You, pushing a bent spine
Against the burden of my stone cold heart.
Its shard-like edges sinking into the bleeding gashes.
Those stripes that dripped red redemption
That emitted heat and light
Wearing away at my ice exterior
And making flesh out of my frozen core
.
At the summit, you fell.
Your voice like thunder
Pronouncing it is finished.
Then a final shallow breath,
The scent of vinegar,
Leaving your laboured lungs.
And Your side, a geyser
Spewing water to wash me clean
And new wine so I might never thirst again.

On Empathy…

Mourn with those who mourn…

In the wake of the terror-related tragedies recently, I’ve found myself thinking about all the people that have loved and lost and I feel the reality of suffering wearing away at individualism. It’s so easy to live life unconcerned with the lives and affairs of others but it’s hard to keep living that way when it’s so evident that people need each other. We need one another. We need unity. We need community.
Empathy is the first step to breaking down the walls between ourselves and others. Once we can understand each other’s suffering, we can share the burden of sorrow and lighten the yoke.
Literature has a way of fostering empathy.  For those brief moments in time, whilst we are immersed in the pages of a book, we become someone else. We feel new pains and experience new kinds of triumphs and we get to remember our humanity. And I’ve recently realised that the act of writing also allows the author to engage in that. At the moment, I’m writing a character that has lost her child and the more I emmerse myself in the thoughts of this woman, the more I feel I somewhat understand motherhood and a mother’s loss, though I’ve never experienced either. Whilst writing this character my thoughts do keep going back to the mothers that have lost children to the terror attacks. I’m praying for them and I’m praying that no one else would have to feel that kind of grief.

[I write bad poetry too]…Lines

Lines

I imagine us as lines,
Travelling in time and space
Moving toward our respective destinations
Unknown to one another until destiny,
Or was it fate?
Or was it coincidence?
Caused our lines,
Our separate lives, to converge.
So sweet but so brief
Was the time that our lines became entangled
For a moment, separation blurred.
To your action, I reacted
And to my twist you’d turn
But then in the blink of an eye
We were again, as we once were.
Solitary lines of no relation
Travelling in space and time.
But that singular convergence left an indentation
And for me,
The hope that one day we would again, merge.