Writing fiction today by hand. Not typing much of it though. Finally found a neuropathy medicine that works, but it makes me foggy til about 3-5pm. Then I get a big burst of pain-free energy and toss in a load of laundry while making dinner and maybe writing or typing. Then I start winding down again. I’m like a dusk-time vampire :-)
What can I say? It’s July and my brain is melting; that’s why I forgot July’s Diary post. I’m supposed to be writing fiction, but I got stuck messing around with page numbers on my memoir. Finally have most of the boring and really hard techno/formatting stuff figured out. Now I just have to read it…yet again. It’s a curious feeling. Seeing the hard proof and skimming through while formatting made me really happy. I think it’s a good book. I’m really proud of it. But, by all that’s holy, I do NOT want to read my own freakin’ memoir again. I really, really don’t. – But I will at some point. I swear it will be out this Autumn.
Otherwise, I’m working on 3 Tell-Tale Chapbooks multiple-author books and journals. And my back and legs are better in summer, so at least I can get some walking in when it isn’t too hot. Plenty to keep me busy til Christmas. Be back in August to post updated covers.
I’ve been neglecting my blog again, but I have a good reason. This entry was inspired by something my friend posted on FB. http://www.nytimes.com/2014/06/03/science/whats-lost-as-handwriting-fades.html?smid=fb-nytimes&WT.z_sma=SC_WLA_20140602&bicmp=AD&bicmlukp=WT.mc_id&bicmst=1388552400000&bicmet=1420088400000&_r=3
This is especially apropos for me right now, awake since 4am with day two of yet another migraine hangover after I was wiped out from shortly after 2 on Sunday til sometime Monday morning. I read a little instead of finishing my really good book. And I couldn’t bear to look at the computer screen.
By Monday I had ideas churning in my writing-mode-now brain, but I still couldn’t type because of numb fingers and excruciating pain from not exercising for three days (having deliberately goofed off Saturday, unaware I’d be slammed for two days after and wishing I could get moving). Anyhow, I’m an old-fashioned pen and paper writer, scrawling out most first drafts of prose as well as still most of my poetry despite online prompts, etc. Having just finished typing the book I wrote by hand last summer, I’ve been trying to kick the write-by-hand habit on my next novella “Ramshackled.”
I’m behind in “production” as a publishing artist because of the transcription from journal to Word doc. But I managed to write three pages of novella yesterday – didn’t even remember having done so. The link between my subconscious (a pure artistic impulse, if you will) and a pen in my hand from which uncensored ideas can flow is a deep and long-developed bond that I believe makes me a better (as in less-edited more natural) writer. So I will continue to jot down notes when they pop into my mind, knowing I can pick up on the ideas at another time, but when my hand reaches into the dark out of instinct, the way one reaches for her sleeping lover because his heartbeat suddenly speaks to her, no way I’m going to try to discourage it from “wasting time.” I’d rather sacrifice time than creativity.
I finished typing my first story collection Rosebud this morning.
I fixed my Goodreads Author’s Page.
Then I logged onto FB to veg for a bit…and found out that Maya Angelou died. So many Black women writers of my generation couldn’t believe how brave she was actually committing to ink what she thought and felt whether or not it was popular or acceptable. She made me feel a little less weird and alone in this world. Thank you, Miss Maya. You made my life better!
Now, in the spirit of keepin’ on, I’m going to start typing my next novella, Ramshackled.
Still recovering from NaPoMo. Here I am reading from my latest poetry collection (What Good’s a View of the Charles…?: poems of tribute 2) on “Willie’s Web Show”). Two months of socializing and event attending. Now back into hiding.
Well, the NaPoMo poems have turned into a chapbook! I’ve been very busy fighting my aching back/neck to do a lot of typing (30 poems plus editing volume three of the poetry trilogy to mail by May 1st); standing and sitting at readings.
So, pictures being worth the thousands words I haven’t posted this month, here are a few thousand words for you 8-)
Mignon Ariel King singing “Dream On” (March 10) in honor of Stephen Tyler’s birthday (March 26) – from the poem “gone girl” in What Good‘s a View of the Charles…? (ALL CAPS Publishing, 2013).
photo by chad parenteau
SURPRISE! I read two poems in the Feature portion at the BPL, Copley for the Boston National Poetry Month Festival. Read two on the open mic too.
With the Co-host of PTAOW (and my pal) Rene Schwiesow. The features Timothy Gager and Chad Parenteau and the open mic were amazing!
April 13, 2014, Plymouth, MA
Happy National Poetry Month! I’ll be writing 30 poems in the next 30 days, posting some of them here. As an added challenge, I’m doing 26 Massachusetts-related poems in alphabetical order. Cuz that’s the kinda Masshole I am!
It isn’t Brookline. Nor Brighton. Between the A-Line
-used-to-be-here streets, fine Swiss sweets or plain
Dunkin crullers. Food from West India. Brazil. Italy.
“Funky” write-ups from new locals on Yelp. Used to be
an embarrassing zip code but full of one-bedroom steals.
So close to Harvard, now: solar-powered condominiums.
Only halfway through the month, here I am posting. Awake at midnight with pain shooting down my spine and the backs of my legs. Sniffing a menthol stick because my allergies are acting up – allergic to a sunny day? – or maybe it’s a cold because my heart is racing a bit. Cannot get comfortable worth a damn!
Yet, I feel crazy-happy! The cover of my memoir is done. I still can’t do page numbers, so don’t ask when it will be published, but it’s done. And the feature for my Buk tribute poems was fantastic Monday. Yup, I’m wiped out for a week after one social engagement/creative work event, but I’m pretty tired after a day of laundry too yet laundry doesn’t leave me smiling like in the photo below!
Dropping the Mask (Coming 2014, Hidden Charm Press)
Art: “With My Own Eyes” C. 2012 Patricia Wallace Jones
Celebrating Women’s History Month at Stone Soup Poetry – the Buk feature
photo by shannon o’connor