I've been writing a lot of poetry lately.
If you've even peeked at my Instagram in the past few months (or those very few awesome "Champions of the Everyn Cause" who help my sorry-ass by supporting me on Patreon every month - I'm looking at YOU Mom! LOL ) you'd probably stumble across #poetry mentions and pictures of my long-running journal in poetic form.
It's partially thoughts I'm working through / actual poetry (yeah I write that too...) / and the occasional rant too scary even for my blog. Also doodles. And pictures / scraps of things I find and glue inside for inspiration, or just because I fucking like whatever it is next to whatever I wrote on the page. *shrugs*
I've kept one of these poetry books off and on since I was 14. There was one book prior to that, but it was swiped, along with my bag, my Discman (look it up kids!) and about $200 worth of punk music CDs. The lot disappeared off a park bench back when I was a wee scribbler in high school. It had a cool swirly green velvet cover. I mourn it to this day 😭
I'm up to Book Six now, not counting the one that was stolen (ahhhh the words I will never get back!) For some reason I stopped writing them right around the time I stopped working on my novels regularly (somewhere in my mid-twenties? It's kind of hazy.) I was going through a lot emotionally at that time, and in my floundering and confusion, I unwittingly stopped the flow of words.
Words meant thinking, and I was tired of thinking all the time - especially when thinking led to being miserable or angry.
It's a mistake I don't intend to ever make again. The floodgate burst recently, and the words came pouring back out. I suppose I've been through a lot the past few years - I've grown a lot; found new things to love and new things to dread - I've experienced the hardships and worry of a parent trying their best for their kids and always feeling like it's not enough - I've also learned to buck it up, and laugh when shit looks ridiculous, just so I can keep moving forward. Especially right now. Things have been pretty stressful and uncertain after my husband severely hurt his back and has been on temporary disability trying to recuperate at home (thus the most recent delay on Curse, but I'll get back to that later...)
Writing is an outlet. It's how I process the world. When I can no longer make sense of myself, I look to poetry.
I suppose it makes sense - I use poetry to flush out thoughts or make sense of emotions I find perplexing. Poetic Therapy? Wouldn't be the strangest thing I've done.
I'm not sure if it's the cause or just another symptom of this, but a lot has been changing in my life since the start of this year particularly. Some of the internal changes started in the middle of 2016, in terms of how I was approaching my work and how I was feeling about myself as a person. I don't know how to explain it. The phrases "personal metamorphosis" and "coming out of your shell" sound so pretentious I'm laughing just typing them... but still, it would explain the resurgence of, and need for, my poetry books again.
It is really more akin to waking up after a really long sleep - like a few years of self-imposed hibernation.
Yep - I'm a Cosmic Bear! Wait, no... I just made that up.
I'm simply someone, constantly striving to improve and evolve in the areas that matter most to me. Learning brings me joy, and music keeps me moving forward. Writing, and my family, give me purpose.
Even though shit in my life feels like a sewage pipe that just keeps carrying me along, kicking and screaming against the current, I'm still feeling really positive about what I'm doing and what I have planned for the rest of 2017.
I'm a hopelessly romantic, optimistic dreamer right now about my work.
To top it off, I am now about 50% of the way done with the final FINAL final (damn that book has been a pain in the ass!) edits for Curse.
I told you I was still working on it! I've just been moving at a much slower pace since my husband injured himself. For about a month there, I felt like a single mom with a third (over 6 foot tall and helpless) kid. I don't envy ya'll who do it everyday! It's hard enough being a mom as it is.
I handled everything for my household on my own with him unable to walk - which also meant I had to tend to him like an invalid until he could function on his own again. I'm so glad he's finally on the mend now! I'm also really glad to have more time to myself and to be able to focus and edit again.
As a matter of fact, yesterday while fine-tuning a really obnoxiously difficult scene, I had an epiphany while searching for a word in the Thesaurus. A single word summoned an idea that finally made sense of one of my plot muddy-areas in the final Crow book (which I've written, but since it's not edited yet, still has wiggle room for those kinds of additions. 👍 Yay!)
I'm giddy just thinking about the new resolution to that particular mystery in Denora's life.
No, I will NOT be telling you which one *evil grin*
See? I'm in a really good mood right now. Which is surprising, because I woke up with a migraine, and as I type this, my chin has gone completely numb because of it. Weirdest-feeling-EVER. I almost want to laugh!
Now I'm wondering if it was a good idea to try and write a blog post while in the midst of a migraine... I seem to be rambling more than usual. Hah!
Well, I suppose that's all for now. These are my random April Musings. Spring is in full swing - so let's start fresh and embrace the changes and renewals of the season (or whatever really cool greeting-cardish poignant thing I was going for...)
