Making the howl worth the noise. Writings and musings of a 21st Century Poet. Integrating emotions with integrity.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Wild Mind & A Disciplined Eye
I am still pecking at my story, currently on the 23rd page of its creation. I slowed down a bit this week to allow the not so creative side of my brain to function for work. It's a challenge when I favor my imagination but it's a must or else the bills won't get paid and I won't be able to afford a writing life.
I bought the new Mitch Albom book 'The First Phone Call From Heaven' and started reading it last night. I had a heck of a job putting it down to turn out my light. Once I started reading it, I couldn't stop. Albom has such a tender way with words, a thoughtful approach to storytelling and he does it with well-timed ease. I learn something from his beautiful stories each time and I encourage others to read his work. It isn't edgy or thrilling but it's heartwarming and human, goodness is always present. My kind of theme. I am in the middle of my work day and all I can think about is a cup of tea and the inside of my book. Oh, and my jammies.
I broke through a bit of an obstacle in the current project. I was required to write a eulogy and it took me some time to wrap my head around. I have the bones of it complete but it'll need to be fleshed out at a later date. Perhaps some inspiration from this Albom book will enable me to fortify the small section? Here's hoping. I can write fiction for hours on end but eulogies are hard.
It's raining cats and dogs here today. Wind and rain warnings are in effect for tonight. I'll be safe and sound reading and with any luck alight with the courage to press on.
Little updates, they seem so meager but alas I still must share. I should write a poem soon, you know, to keep up the appearance that my mind is wild and my eye is disciplined.
In propinquity,
Nic
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Café Apostrophe
Café Apostrophe
Hip Cool Poets
pour in
from urban parks
punctuate the round
pedestal tables
& fold into cozy chairs
of Café Apostrophe
music experts
editors
novelists
turn-tablists
junkies
unemployed actors
congregate to listen to
Hip Cool Poets
autodidactic
flamboyant thieves
descriptivists
the ones who skewer
literary pretensions
w/ photocopied notes
the ones who read
honest verses scribbled
on scraps of old paper
about exposition
&
introspection
Hip Cool Poets
write
with a hunger
build linguistic lives & orate
the virtuosic absurdity of a
poet’s
paradox
people listen
assume the demeanor
soak it in
into their skin
into their senses
Hip Cool Poets
predict
the future
w/ a map of their journey
cue applause
**
Don't tell me what the poets are doing ...
In propinquity,
Nic
In propinquity,
Nic
Monday, November 18, 2013
November Rain
It's been a rainy November so far. I'm starting to get a bit of the Christmas spirit despite the weather. We have had a few flurries and a few frigid cold days but now that I'm almost done shopping for the holidays I'm starting to feel festive. I've got my stack of cards ready to get going as well. I'm short so I'll have to shop for more but I don't mind that, stationary lover me.
I haven't been blogging but that doesn't mean I'm not writing. Quite the contrary. I'm currently pecking away at a piece called 'We Are Not Old Women'. That's the tentative title anyhow. I'm about 16 pages in and am enjoying the slow fluid pace it's coming in. I write in spurts but when I write, it's fruitful. It won't be something I will post here due to its length and the formatting would be a nightmare. With my connectivity issues at home, I fear I'd have a meltdown and my home computer is a piece of junk. I really need a laptop. Something with Windows XP and/or Microsoft Office 10. Then I'm compatible everywhere I write. Needless to say, while I am pleased with the piece's progress and the peaceful page, I'm frustrated to not be able to come home after work and write deep into the night. That NEEDS to change. As soon as the pennies allow.
Doris Lessing passed away. A sad event for readers, writers and women of the world. I plan to take a moment this evening to remember her, I will observe a moment of silence and say a prayer, light a candle. Her passing also filtered into my story today as another way of honoring a fallen sister.
Count blessings, promote a little peace. Be good.
In propinquity,
Nic
Friday, November 1, 2013
Words Were Here
Words Were Here
a single sentence squandered
between two beleaguered
surveyors
surveyors
words were there
as a beginning
nothing remains
this poem was an accomplice
words were here
**
I still got nothing. Wise words were sent to me, to be still, let it be and if you breathe, it'll come - the story for 'Burden'. I agree. I'm trying to be patient because my fingers are itchy and I'm busting at the seams but it's just not right yet. So, a little esoteric poem like this one will have to suffice. Maybe I need to get cracking and start doing the daily writing prompts again. Yes? Maybe this weekend since I have no large plans, I can swipe all the junk off my writing desk at home, set up a new playlist and work some things out. Maybe if I throw my headphones on, get lost in the music and in thought, something will come. It certainly helps. I think I need to rearrange my desk too, perform a little Feng Shui, an exorcism perhaps, buy a few new candles or re-arrange my photographs. Ooo, maybe add to my rock wall. I do have a few items accumulated, a poster, some ticket stubs and a snapshot.
I'm rambling here but my fingers are moving, I'll keep on keeping on and go easy in the meantime.
Thank God it's Friday, the side of my brain I exercise passionately has been very lazy.
In propinquity,
Nic
Monday, October 28, 2013
Murmur
Murmur
unreliable whispers
in sturdy iambic pentameter
potent demonstrations
detailing the art of concision
erratic circumspection
around the mechanics of desire
intoxicating philanderer’s
account of foolish gallantry
intermittent sentience
verses articulated amid bedmates
to count the quickened beats
of stridently tolling hearts
in adversity, murmur
in question, clamour
hushed breath
blatant
curiosity
master rhymer
of
old-fashioned quatrains
murmur
**
**
In the middle of my writer's block came this poem. I'm still staring at 'Burden'. I feel close to tears because so much of it is in my head playing like slow moving pictures but I can't get it down on the page. I'm creatively constipated. It's uncomfortable.
Sad about Lou Reed. Sad that it's Monday and that it's almost November. Winter is coming. I'll have to start wearing socks. Blerg.
In propinquity,
Nic
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
From the Desk of a Blocked Writer
Uh oh.
I had the best of intentions
to write after work last night. I wanted to write. I arrived home, ate a quick meal of Sunday leftovers,
curry and naan bread, threw on my jammies with fuzzy slippers and fired up the
computer. I plunked my notes and the
pages of ‘Burden’ on my desk to continue on.
In all of that aspiration, I spent a full hour gazing at a blank screen,
mocked by the slow blinking cursor.
Admittedly, ‘Burden’ is a slow moving train and I’m really still
listening to the sisters for the crux of the story, of why they appointed me to
tell it. Certainly there is a purpose,
as with every story, the characters want and/or need something.
I am six pages into their
lives. It wavers back and forth between the
present and the past to highlight the behaviours and believes of each
woman. I think. I hope.
Honestly, I am having a bit of trouble tapping into Judy’s personality
because at first she’s such an asshole for lack of a better word. It’s hard for me to write her meanness, her
lack of humanity and her coldness. I
accept the challenge of course and understand it comes from somewhere but I’m still waiting to hear. As for Helen, she’s endured a lot growing up
alongside Judy and so she’s coming from a completely different
perspective. I feel myself on her side
and I need to straighten out and be objective and be fair to my
characters. Not favor one over the other
and I feel like Helen is soaking up my empathy at a rapid pace and I’m saving
my disdain for Judy.
Maybe this is why I hit a
brick wall last night. I tried to work
out the block, determining whether or not it was just because I was tired from
a long haul at the day job, or if my desk is too cluttered, or maybe it’s just
my noodle is messy. Whatever it is that
caused me to fall flat on my face, hindered my creativity for a whole
night. I worry it will spill into today
too. I’ve been writing steady for a long
time and it was actually painful to be mute, to be without one single thought
or flash or note scribbled. I tried
music and pacing, I tried reading my pages aloud, and nothing. Finally I closed up shop, watched a bit of TV
and allowed myself to breathe. I glanced
once more at the pages when I crawled in bed but I didn’t want to jinx myself,
get a sudden burst of thoughts and disrupt the night’s sleep I desperately
needed. So, I tucked into Elspeth’s
book, her self-published gem, ‘Sole’. I
am grateful to her vivid characters for making me forget my writer’s ache and
entertaining me to the point that even when my eyes were heavy and close to
sleep I was still squinting to read.
I don’t expect a lot to happen
writing wise today but I think I’ll continue to fill the well and see what
happens. I have Zumba after work so
perhaps the hip shaking exercise will loosen some of the resistance. Tomorrow evening I am attending the book
launch for ‘Fallsy Downsies’ by Stephanie Domet at The Carleton. I finished it yesterday on my commute
home. I savored the pages to extend my
time in the story because I loved it so much.
If you’re looking for a good read, buy the book and meet Lansing
Meadows, follow his tour. I am hoping
the launch and reading will further inspire me and help me get back on track
with ‘Burden’. Right now, I feel like it’s
a big old mess. But, I’ve been here
before and I’ve come out the other side in one piece, overcoming obstacles and
achieving some sort of success in the name of finishing something.
I hope my uh oh turns into a
yee haw soon.
In propinquity,
Nic
Monday, October 21, 2013
Look At Us
Look At Us
you saved my
life
one evening beneath the stars
no signs to guide us
just your clever
words
your confidence
keeps balance in the world
I am again with
you today
saving your
life in the sun
with the lure of writing
opening up before us
the wide expanse of the sea
the broad flight above the bay
between earth and cloud
between space and wet sand
we are right to
marvel
we are right to
travel
forward
together
look at us
look at you
look at me
our voices loud
and laughing
sailing off beyond a mast of trees
mapping out colors with wings
skimming the tops of our
heads
by some saving grace of heart
of starry nights and sunny morns
our presence
upon this surface
faces the glory of light in which
we are made
**
**
My wonderful writer friend Haley will probably kill me for posting this but I found it today and feel like it needs to be shared. She and I did a writing exercise based on the enclosed photo and mine came to me poem form.
I am working on 'Burden' and this sort of melted my heart thinking of my characters and their circumstances. It seems as fitting as it does opposing. Eventually that will make sense, as in, when my story is complete.
I hope she will forgive me, after all, I'm pretty cute.
In propinquity,
Nic
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