This week has been a struggle to find and then keep motivation as I am working through my edits.
Gotta Find A Way to Make It Happen.
Outside of the lines
Every once and a while I get the urge to write or share something outside of literature, it spices things up.
A Sentence Disappears into a Poem pt. 2
*~*~
Begin anew with each chance.
Begin anew with each,
Begin anew,
Begin.
~*~
The Poem Within pt. 5
Risky Business
Where Does The Time Go?
I have noticed lately that I am really good at setting goals. I mean really I set some amazing goals, my problem seems to be in the follow through. They say the first step in fixing the problem is to admit you have one… I am an disorganized procrastinator when it comes to my beloved writing. I am forever chasing down my next idea, poem, thought, phrase and leaving the actual work to be done eventually.
At some point this has to end or I will never get to the end of anything. I am trying to complete the first round of editing on at least on of my books in August. This being July 31st I thought I would reach out to my followers and ask them how they keep it all together.
How do you plan your writing and/or editing?
Do you plan specific times and days?
What is the best way to hold yourself accountable?
Any and all suggestions are welcome, this month will be the month I finish!
Dusk
One of my favorite times of the year is the middle of summer just as the sun begins to set. Dusk to me is a time when anything seems possible and that gets my creative juices flowing.
When is your favorite time?
Obstacles
Everyone has somewhere they want to go.
Some make it.
Some don’t.
What separates them?
Those who do not fear a path covered in mud.
The Poem Within pt. 2
The Poem Within
Looking for what can be found deeper.
This is what I found when I looked closer at,
Emily Dickinson’s Because I could not stop for death
The Library
The scent is utterly recognizable. To him it is serenity. To some the musk, the leather and the age would bring up disconcerting emotions. For him, his blood pressure drops and his mind clears. There is no description that can do the ambiance justice. This is a place while full is vacant of any worries.
The need to escape now is greater than ever. Destruction, death and apathy weigh heavily on the soul. It ages a man far past his years, the lines are added to his face, the stress upon his heart. An escape if only for a moment can bring immeasurable relief.
He enters the room fully and makes his way to his faithful chair. Sinking into it, he closes his eyes and reaches for the side table out of instinct. His fingertips feel the etched writing on its spine. Opening his eyes the book, The Great Gatsby, was in front of him. His eyes adjusted to the text, he let go of any remaining grasp on reality.
Survival if only for a page was undeniably his.
Literary.Land.of.Alysia 