I have been having writers block as I am very preoccupied. The Blood has been put on the burner for the moment as I cannot concentrate. Currently micro fiction and poetry/prose seem to be my thing. Maybe it is because they are both ‘slice of life’ concepts.
It is time to not let mob mentality take over. Covid-19 is worrying but panic will not help us. We must strengthen our community ties during this time. Let us rise above and become our best selves.
Very exciting news. I am a featured poet on Wolff Poetry Literary Magazine with my poem ‘Blood Bride’. https://wolffpoetry.com/blood-bride-poem-by-lesleigh-hart/
So life has been eye-opening. I am on jury duty. I will not be talking about the content of things. What I will discuss is the illusion of television and movies. I do not know anyone in the legal community so my thoughts were based on echoes of what I had seen on Australian, American and British TV.
I like American true crime stories, but as it turns out, up close is not for me. I didn’t expect it to be so real, that is could be sometimes so distressing. I don’t know why that was so surprising.
I find myself to be on edge. For the last three weeks, I have kept my emotions restrained. I have expressed it via writing to get it out of my head.
Listening to music is another outlet. It is a double-edged sword. It frequently makes the emotions more intense which is not helpful.
I am worried about opening my Pandora’s box. According to the myth, hope was left inside when all else escaped to wreak havoc on the world. I wonder what will escape and what will remain.
It is the new year. What has changed? The poetry still flows like blood in my veins. Naked Violet is my emotional outlet for too much to deal with. My short stories, Bedtime Stories for Purple Girls, trudges along, sometimes triggered by life. My erotic horror novel, The Blood, is harder, as I have not been in the mood to write a novel of that style. The horror is not the problem. It is the eroticism and romance that I can’t find at the moment. Being human and writer’s block don’t make good bedfellows.
I find myself thinking of the past. The past is full of regrets and lost dreams. I don’t know what my future has.
I often think depression is a funny bastard. He sneaks up on you when you are not looking and says boo over your shoulder just to remind you he is still there.
It is odd how he likes to express himself. Often with tears and other times with anger. The two seem so apart but I guess they are not. The end result is the same. A sense of isolation and a wish to be left alone.
I guess that is how he wins the game.
I often think that Christmas Day is a rather weird day. The commercial focus is on gifts while people have expectations that it will match the family feel-good experience seen in movies.
Whether you are religious or not the day itself will not transform your family dynamics. It will not make you a better person.
Every day is as important as Christmas Day as it is how we treat those around us, when no one is looking, that counts. It is through these small moments of humanity throughout the year that we should be judged.
November is epilepsy awareness month. This has prompted me to think about my journey with it.
It is one of the longest relationships I have ever been in. I knew her before my first kiss, before I even learnt how to speak. I wasn’t officially in a relationship with her until I got the paperwork at 16.
We have a complex set of rules of engagement. I hope to be on her good side by taking my medication, and trying to keep my life as calm as possible. Sadly if I violate a rule, usually the stress one, she will punish me.
Her punishments are varied. Sometimes is is a crushing pain in my head, feeling like it is going to split apart. Other times she plays with my emotions. She always knows how to make herself be heard at the most inconvenient moments. Other times I don’t even know about the punishment until later. I become conscious again and don’t know where I am. She has the knack of making me feel so vulnerable and scared.
Obviously, I can’t live always under her shadow all the time. I start each day positive that we will get on. There will be no fights with her. Sometimes I’m right, sometimes I’m wrong.
I find writing to be a combination of delight and hard work.
My short stories tend to be a spark. When I write it feels like the keyboard is in charge. While my poems are started by an emotional event that I need to expel.
The Blood, being a structured novel, is more complex. The first write is somewhat random as the sentences spew out. Then the hard work starts. I am changing its genre from horror to erotic horror. It is harder than I thought. I am enjoying the process and look forward to soon publishing here the rewritten version, one chapter at a time.
I write because I enjoy it. I don’t know whether this will ever become profitable. I hope those who read my work find meaning and enjoyment.