Category: Writing

Writing

Life Shit & Shoulder Pain

LeiaLeave a comment

Hey guys, 

I want to apologize for the lack of updates. I’ve been experiencing some significant shoulder pain in my dominant arm that’s making it difficult to turn my head or sleep, and it’s caused a bit of trembling in my hand. 

I did see a massage therapist about two weeks ago, and she helped get the range of motion back in my neck. Now the pain is concentrated right under my shoulder blade, and is migrating up to my shoulder itself. Overall, it feels like terrible burning. I have an appointment with her, again, tomorrow. So, hopefully, I’ll be in better shape. 

I also want to talk about something I’ve been ramping up on lately: submissions. I recently began submitting my work all over the place – and I want to encourage you all to do the same. I know it seems daunting, and the prospects of rejections is a little terrifying at times …. but you should do it. Submit. Go for it.  We need diversity of voices in this genre – and you can bring that diversity – in your experience, in your style, in your own way. Do it. Submit. 

The worst thing that can happen is the editor says no. But guess what? Your skin is still on, and you’re still breathing. Look, I submitted to several places this month and here’s the results so far: 

  •  Feral: Rejection (no reason)
  • Versification: Rejection (no reason)
  • Trouvaille: Rejection (didn’t feel my work was right for them)
  • Floodlight: Rejected (no reason)
  • Sublunary: Rejected (isn’t right for their aesthetic)
  • Ample Remains (not a match)
  • Once Upon a Crocodile: Accepted
  • Claredon House: Accepted
  • Anti-Heroin Chic : Accepted
  • Vailent: Still waiting
  • 1870 : Still waiting

I honestly expect the remaining two mags to reject me – and that’s ok. Despite our best efforts – reading the submission guidelines, spending time reading through the issues to feel out whether or not your stuff matches with theirs and typing shit up – shit just happens.

I want to say this; even if you feel that your work would fit with a lit magazine after reading through the issues and they reject you … don’t take it personally. Aesthetic, theme, etc.  is subjective, and editors are going to pick what speaks to them (and what they like). And, again, THAT’S ok, too. You don’t like every writer’s shit, right? 

I want to make a distinction here, though. 

There is a large difference between style and technicality.  My style, for example, is minimalistic realism. I’m writing about shit that happens to me, without sugar coating it and without any flourish or embellishment. It’s one thing for an editor to not like your STYLE – it’s another thing if you can’t write for shit. 

So do it. Submit! Let’s celebrate the acceptances and rejections together.  And let me know in the comments what your experiences have been with rejections.

L

Writing

A Gentle Reminder

LeiaLeave a comment

Hey guys and gals,

I just wanted to remind you that, come Sunday, I won’t be posting daily any more. Like I said in a previous post, I have a chapbook coming out later this year and want to focus on writing content exclusive to that. I also want to focus on submitting my work to more places – I’ve had some good luck so far, and want to see how far I can ride that train. It’s kind of a morbid curiosity 😉

There are also some other avenues that I want to venture forth on – namely expanding my presence on Instagram (my poems are posted there with some visuals) – maybe starting a Patreon and …. my friend is trying to convince me to go on Tic Tok which, I gotta say…just makes my skin crawl. Either way, I’ll let you know what’s happening.

Rest assured, I WILL continue to post here – just not daily. I’m thinking maybe 2 or 3 times a week – maybe more or less depending on how I feel. In the meantime, I invite you to go through the archives – there are just under 90 poems here…. which is kind of mind blowing to me in a way.

Depression · Free Verse · Mental Health

Brittle | Poems that Suck

LeiaLeave a comment 
You were frail in body while I
 was delicate in mind, yet we curled
  around and underneath each other trying
   to provide comfort to one another - because
                                       that's
                                       what
                                       empaths
                                       do.

You held me as I fell to pieces
 in your hands, mind ridden and soul
  overflowing with trauma, pain and anxiety.
   You held on until I stopped crumbling - not
                                           healed,
                                           but
                                           stable, 
                                           enough.

Then I held you, in your emaciated
 brittleness, all edges and angles, as
  you allowed yourself the space to dissolve
   in my hands, slipping through my fingers - like
                                              water
                                              down
                                              a
                                              drain.

Somehow we held each other up, 
 held each other together, just barely. 
  Maybe that's what two people do for
   one another; the simple kindness of - offering
                                         safety,
                                         compassion, 
                                           and
                                         companionship
                                               as we try to
                                                  weather our way
                                                     through the shitstorm.