Work In Progress

Work In Progress Tag: I found this tag on Trynda E. Adair’s youtube channel. Check it out here 🙂

1. What is the working title of your book?

Here and Away. It’s a play on abstract locations and the names of the two main characters.

2. Where did the idea come from for your book?

My dad used to tell me a bed time story when I was 3-4 about two brothers out on a quest for a magical stone, one brother was good and one was bad. The moral of the story is good always triumphs over evil. In my story, much like real life, evil isn’t that easy to vanquish and my story bloomed from that story.

3. What genre does your book fall under?

Urban paranormal.

4. Which actors would you choose to play in your movie rendition?

I honestly haven’t thought of actors or specific people to play my characters, in my head I see physical characteristics: Away has a scruffy face. Maybe if Norman Reedus (The Boondocks Saints/The Walking Dead) and Matt Bomer (American Horror Story: Hotel/The Normal Heart) had a love child, that would be what Away would look like.

5. What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

Two brothers embark on a journey to stop an apocalyptic plague from devastating the world.

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Self-published. I love doing everything myself, from formatting ebook settings to cover design. I love the self-publishing process.

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I wrote draft 1 during Nanowrimo 2016. I believe it took me 29 days, the last day I wrote an 8,000 word marathon.

8. What other books would you compare this story to?

Catherynne M. Valente’s In the Night Garden meets Holly Black’s Tithe meets Francesca Lia Block’s Witch Baby.

9. Who or what inspired you to write the book?

The idea was inspired by the story my father used to tell me but other inspirations are all the urban fantasy tales that are around now that weren’t around when I was a teen. I wanted to write a story that my inner 16 year old would love.

10. What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

If you like stories within stories and snarky characters this book is for you 🙂

Odd Writing Thoughts

I want to be a writer. What is a writer? A writer is a person who enjoys writing more than anything else. Or a person with writing on their list of top 3 things to do (Mine is: 1. Cats 2. Writing 3. Sex) but I don’t write every day and I can live, even though I get depressed and nap a lot, without writing. I want to be one of those people who writes every day but I don’t know how to get there. Obviously if I want to write every day I need to Write Every Day but if it’s not natural/if I have to force myself to do it am I a legitimate writer or am I just faking?

Was I already a writer because I wrote 3 poetry collections but now I’m not a writer any more because I’m not producing anything?

I hate editing fiction. I have no problem revising poetry but when I need to revise/edit this huge mountain of prose, that is my 50,000 word not very big at all but it’s the longest piece I’ve ever written, I want to curl up in a ball on the couch and sleep all day. Which I did. Sleep all day.

So how do I go about being a writer (again) in my current state? Even if I feel like I’m faking or not the thing to do is write every day. Right? So now the question is: what to write? I don’t like writing about myself. Journaling is difficult because I don’t want to think about my hopes/dreams or where I want to be 5 years from now. I want to be alive and 125 lbs. and somehow not anorexic or depressed and off the anti-anxiety meds.

I like writing about things I see and memories but when I don’t have to go to work I generally don’t leave the apartment so I don’t get to see anything exciting. What I think of as exciting. I want to write something interesting. Dreams are hard to write because sometimes they scare or bother me. Like I had a dream a few days ago where I killed my elementary school best friend with morphine but she had clones and I was freaking out about hiding a dead body when I really didn’t have to because she wasn’t really dead.

Until very recently I had no characters in my brain that I liked, I had protagonists but no stories or stories with no protagonists. And I didn’t write fiction. Poetry doesn’t need characters but now I have 3 characters in my head and I’m not using them properly.

I need to write my characters doing things. I need to give them the lives I/they want. Or the lives they need/are supposed to have.

Reglas Para Sirenas / Rules for Mermaids

1. Un Barco Solo / A Boat Alone

Luna de fósforo

sobre

un barco

solo

cantando

de las ojos y las

estrellas que

bailar con

el horizonte

el horizonte

desentraña

bailando con

las estrellas,

cantando de

los ojos

como

lunas de fósforo

sobre

un barco

solo

*

Phosphorous moon

over

a boat

alone

singing

of eyes and

stars

dancing with

the horizon

the horizon

unravels

dancing with

stars,

singing of

eyes like

phosphorous moons

over a

boat alone

(Found poem from “Aquí te amo” by Pablo Neruda.)

2. La Canción de la Bruja / The Witch’s Song

Amor es amor

y

mio es mio

música es música

y

cuchillos son cuchillos.

Amor es girando en el profundo,

deseo verdadero y atravesando.

Si lo desea siempre se pueden

escapar a vivir una vida de deseo ardiente.

Amor es amor

y

suyos es suyos

una canción es una canción

y

dulce es dulce.

Amor es espera lejos,

deseo es maduro para tomar.

Si siempre desea lo que no está,

venga y vea lo que estoy vendido.

Amor es amor

y

odio es odio

y

amor es amor

solamente

Todos los deseos que usted podría dejar

no rasgar el corazón de las garras

de otras chicas.

Amor es amor

y

mio es mio

música es música

y

cuchillos son cuchillos

Cuando te arrepientes

lamentar con todo tu corazón

y corte el corazón fuera

de su enamorado.

Entonces nadie es feliz, nadie puede amor

y la marea lo llevará a las profundidades.

*

Love is love

and

mine is mine

music is music

and knives are knives

Love is spinning in the deep,

desire true and piercing.

If you ever wish you could escape

you’ll live a life of longing.

Love is love

and yours is yours

a song is a song

and

sweet is sweet

Love is waiting far away,

desire ripe for taking.

If you wish for what you are not,

come and see what I’m selling.

Love is love

and

hate is hate

and

love is love

again

All the wishing you could wish

won’t rip his heart

from the grip of another girl’s hand.

Love is love

and

mine is mine

music is music

and

knives are knives

When you regret

regret with your heart

and cut the heart

out of your lover.

Then no one is happy and no one can love

and the tide will carry you home.

3. Sirena Muerta Cantado / Dead Mermaid Singing

No puedo darle lapislázuli

a menos que abrir una vena

y desgarron mis órganos

en la manera perfecta para

manchando mi sangre en colores

que dicen:

“Te amo más que su mano y su lapislázuli.”

No puedo darle puesta de sol

manchando un lienzo

a menos que abrir una vena

y coágulo mis obsesiones,

caer en crepúsculo

con un gesto que grito:

“Te amo más que su mano que pintado tu puesta de sol.”

Cuando las olas me llaman

nuevamente a bailar en la espuma,

no vas a saber cuánto

odio mi santuario.

No puedo darle música

a menos que yo desgarrar mi garganta

y tirar todos los acordes

al cielo amor.

Ella es la única cielo que sabe

yo te quiero más.

La princesa es tan bonita,

su comportamiento es divino

pero su amor se romperá

en mi sombra.

Cuando las olas me llaman

nuevamente a bailar en la espuma,

abrir mis venas y mi garganta

en tu costa siempre

cantando, siempre

cantando:

“Yo te quiero más.”

*

I can’t give you lapis less I open

a vein and rupture my organs in

just the right way

staining my blood

in a shade that will say:

“I love you more than that hand that gave you your lapis.”

I can’t give you sunset staining a canvas less I open

a vein and clot my obsessions,

fall into dusk

with a gesture that screams:

“I love you more than that hand that painted your sunset.”

When the waves call me back

to dance in the foam

you’ll never know how much

I hate my home.

I can’t give you music less I tear

out my throat and fling all my chords

to the sky-loving storm

to play on her way to crash down your door.

She’s the only one who knows

I do love you more.

The princess is so pretty,

her demeanor is divine

but her love will break in the shadow of mine.

When the waves call me back

to dance in the foam

I would open my veins and my throat

on your shore ever

singing ever

singing:

“I do love you more.”

(Originally published in Twisted Myths)

4. Redención / Redemption

grave mar

rompe y rasga

el ardiente

vacío

de todos los

pasados,

escribar

sus frágiles

desbocadas

*

the grave sea

breaks and tears

the burning

emptiness

of all that

has passed,

write

your fragile

flight

(Found poem from “Las víejas del oceano” by Pablo Neruda.)

My Books Everywhere!

I self-published my 3 poetry collections on Smashwords last year. This year I have upgraded my self-publishing skills to include availability on new venues!

You can now find all of my free poetry collections on:

IBOOKS

NOOK

KOBO

🙂

 

Anatomy Lesson

This is my arm
, I hurt it when I jumped across a creek and fell.
You cannot jump across a creek, neither can I.
 

This is my shoulder, hurt while I tried to buy a train ticket.
I cannot buy a train ticket.

This is my shirt.
It got dirty as a shirt
gets dirty when
its wearer meets an incoherent, violent yearning.

Look at my eye,
it went missing as I was leaving the theatre.
I am not allowed to see.
This poem first appeared in The Idle Class 2014. It can also be found in Graveyard.