There isn't always an explanation for everything ...

Now that I am finished ‘Town & Country’ (the writing part of it anyway), I have started paying attention to the rumblings of some new characters of the male persuasion, Alf Minor and Joshua Fox.  There are other faces also appearing but I am taking the time to pay attention to Alf and Josh’s whispers first.  I’ve been listening to them actively.  Alf woke me from my sleep last night to tell me a few things so I’ve tonight I plugged my headphones in, turned on some old music and started surfing and researching some of the things that will take their story to the next phase, the actual meat and potatoes, the writing.

Alf is the older of the two characters but I can’t tell if this is his story or Josh’s tale.  They are both vying for my attention and so I need to be certain as to which angle I take.  It has to be the right one to stay true to the story they want to tell me so I can re-tell it to you.  I have a feeling it’ll take some time to sort out but I have nothing but so I’m good to go.  And, now that I have the proper tools for my craft, I can be as prolific or as relaxed as I want to be.  The forecast for this coming Saturday is rainy, so guess what I’ll be doing during the day?  You guessed it, creating!

This Sunday I have a special artist date planned for myself, a play.  I’m going to see ‘Having Hope At Home’ at Neptune Theatre.  John Dunsworth, widely known as Mr. Lahey on Trailer Park Boys is among the cast.  I’m really excited to take my seat in the balcony and get lost in it.  Nothing more amazing than a story playing out live and in person, right in front of you.  It’s truly amazing.  I’ve also got a week before I get to see Blue Rodeo live.  It feels like it’s becoming a tradition to see them in the cold winter months.  Our seats for this show are incredible.  On the floor, in front of the stage, only a few rows back.  The following night I’ll be off to see Wintersleep at The Marquee.  What a busy weekend that’ll be!  And, then it’s Vince Neil and Platinum Blonde.  My 2014 is off to a great start when it comes to live shows, theatre and music.  Those experiences will all build my confidence and my passion for writing, sounds corny but it really does.  The energy, the lights, the action, the sweaty crowds – they feed me, make feel whole and alive.  Some people feel zen when they do yoga or make smoothies, I am zen, right in the core of my being, when I’m present at a show, watching artists make history and add to the soundtrack and chapters of my life, fuel me, so that I may be able to come sit here at this table and bang out a story.  It’s all full circle.

So yeah, Alf and Joshua are next.  It’s brewing, percolating, forming into something I will eventually be able to share with you.  And, if I haven’t mentioned it yet, the working title: ‘Elder Hemingway’.  That’s all I’m giving up so watch this space!

Must retire to my boudoir and drink red wine.  That’s what you’re supposed to do on Thursday night, right?

In propinquity,

Nic

Maybe We Need More Words

Maybe We Need New Words

maybe we need more words

for the puddle deep thinkers

the crazy anti-art pulpit poseurs

the ego-crazy writers

maybe we need more words

to lengthen the traditional

means of literary warfare

to re-shape everything we already love

to ban blue eyes and call for a

crackdown on fake reviews

maybe we need to split the definition

of half shapes and tense shifts

divide the meaning of rare talent

and imperfect endowment

maybe we need to extend the metaphor

work around the clock to make more words

re-invent the rich dimension of human frailty

our writers and bloggers and poets elaborate on

maybe we need more words

more language

more

more

more

maybe 

**

Just a little poem today as I move forward into a new story, yet to be titled, about a woman named Ruth Moody.  So far, that's all I know.  

I am starting to come down with a cold me thinks.  At first I thought it was allergies and it may have started out that way but I can feel my throat starting to get itchy scratchy and my eyes glaze over.  I CANNOT get coughy fevery because I have a play to see on Saturday and I HATE cough drops.  HATE.  I pray to the health Gods it's just a wee sniffle.  *fingers crossed*  I am pumped to see Mary Vingoe's new play at Neptune Theatre.  It's called 'Refguee'.  Did I mention I am pumped?  Artist date, sick or not.

One more sleep until the weekend.  Grateful.  I need some serious couch time tomorrow night with blankets and pillows.

And before I go, a big birthday shout out across the miles to to Terri!  *throws confetti*

In propinquity,

Nic

Syntax of a Serial Prose Poem

Syntax of a Serial Prose Poem

I endorse it

the act of

transmuting

words into gold

the cut and paste aesthetic

qualifies a very lovely engagement

between

writers as allies

poets as paradoxes

when the native tongue

of a serial prose poem

is singing syntax

is singing syntax

I endorse it

the unadulterated awe

the translucent undertow

the formal element

when the native tongue

of a serial prose poem

is mellifluous

a traditional piece

outlined with fidelity

outlined with perception

all entries in this volume

are true accomplishments

from

acrostic to sonnet

privileged poems

potent storytelling

the book takes its title

**

On all levels, yesterday's artist date was magnificent.  Despite the wet snow showers, I maneuvered my way around downtown Halifax.  I started at The Wooden Monkey.  I enjoyed a mimosa and a Mexican brunch while pecking away at the edits on 'Half Windsor Knot'.  I didn't accomplish a lot in terms of actual edits but I thought a lot about him and some of the feedback received by the few who peeked at it.  I confess, early feedback got me a little off track with conflicting likes/dislikes but after a good bit from a fellow writer today I was able to re-focus my energy, correct some of the things that irked me and even added a small paragraph further explaining things (I hope).  While I was at The Wooden Monkey, eating and editing I was inspired for another story.  A little boy was sitting with his family behind me and his conversations with someone called Jennifer sparked something in me.  Next thing I knew I was jotting notes down and again dis-engaged from HWK.  I did get back on track, my pages are full of scrawled notes and red scratches and strikes.  After brunch, I took myself for coffee at Paper Chase and did a little card tag and got lost daydreaming, waiting to go to Neptune Theatre to see Glace Bay Miners' Museum.  And, just as I suspected, the show was absolutely stunning.  Just as wonderful as it was back in '93 when I was working at the theatre.  Every single thing about it was perfect.  The cast was riveting, the set was all-encompassing, the music pitch perfect and the lights expertly lit.  The direction and production was top notch.  I was in tears as I stood for the standing ovation at the end.  The story, originally a short story by Sheldon Currie and adapted for the stage by Wendy Lill, isn't a happy story but it's rooted in truth and honesty and heart.  It's painful at times but rings true for so many people connected to the mining industry.  I laughed and cried and I was completely covered in goose-bumps for the whole two plus hours.  If you live in Halifax and you have some time between now and March 17th, go see it.  It's masterful.

It's Sunday now, my first blog of March.  I went for a long peaceful walk today and came home to my stories and pages of poems.  I finished this one this morning drinking my tea so that's what you got today.  I also worked more on HWK and have been formally introduced to my new characters for the story inspired by the little boy yesterday.  I'm excited to put HWK to bed but I'm also excited to move on with something new.  I still have this one character nagging me but that'll have to be for something else because that character isn't right for what's next.  I'll stew a little and see what happens.

I'm going to let my noodle rest for the night, maybe watch something meaningless and do some relaxing.  

However you spent your day, I hope you spent it well.

In propinquity,

Nic

Away From Me

Away From Me

I miss you

you are away from me

leaves me

stubborn to company

leaves me

bewildered by aloneness

you are away from me

I miss you

our last goodbye

our final curtain call

leaves me

arrested by surrender

leaves me

inflamed by madness

I miss you

you are away from me

too far

too long

you are away from me

you are away from me

**

I am all aflutter.  This coming Saturday I have planned a fabulous artist date for myself.   Fresh air, food, daydreaming, writing and live theatre.  I bought myself a ticket to see ‘Glace Bay Miner’s Museum’ at Neptune Theatre.  Just me.  When I worked at Eastern Front Theatre, ‘Glace Bay Miner’s Museum’ (an award winning play by the uber talented Wendy Lill and based on a short story by the indelible Sheldon Currie) was the first show of my tenure.  I was fortunate enough to see it in Parrsboro at Ship’s Company Theatre onboard the old MVKipawo.  It was spectacular, the cast, the direction, the writing, everything.  I watched it every night at Alderney Landing Theatre while working and I never once grew tired of the compelling story, told so eloquently, the Cape Breton style music and remnants of home, Atlantic Canadian storytelling and talent at their finest.  Nothing compares, really.

I’m excited to attend and support Mary Vingoe’s direction once again and a story that’s deserves to be shared and absorbed by many.  Live theatre is spectacular, it is in that very moment and it is exhilarating and knowing the hard work, passion and dedication it takes to mount (or re-mount) a show, it is so inspiring and moving.

I’m happy to report that for the most part, the grump is gone.  I’m still feeling some residual effects and perhaps some of that is PMS but the sun is shining which is always a blessing and I’m having dinner with a dear friend after work so that’s always a bonus.  I mostly look forward to a good night’s sleep tonight.  I haven’t been sleeping very well and I hope to kick insomnia in the shins and send it packing.  I have a bottle of red wine home sitting on the counter, leftover from the weekend.  Might be wise to pop the cork and have a nip before tucking myself in.  Fine, you’ve twisted my arm.

Hope your Tuesday is fair.

In propinquity,

Nic