Monthly Archives: January 2013

WTF? Wednesday (Guest Post)

In honor of my birthday (yesterday), my critique partner and writing comrade LK is contributing to the collective mortification of this blog.

LK writes, “In honor of your birthday week, here is an embarrassing poem I wrotein high school, when I lived in France, about my pseudo-boyfriend, for your blog (stream of consciousness was my JAM):


egoboys and glittergirls

you talk or you don’t talk to me or you kiss me closer to my lips and
whisper. yes you kiss me closer to my lips and whisper like the wind
on hot california nights like golf clubs cutting grass like fallen
handstands like jeans brushing inner thighs when beautifully unthin
girls walk when I walk, unthin, beautifully yes you whisper like that.

no words. not for me not between us each other no nothing but closer
kisses and beautiful whispers and heat in my stomach heat in my
stomach to keep my hands warm my desire makes you beautiful I make
you, beautifully, in my heat my desire my stillness my swearing my
giggles which you don’t find funny so I laugh and you walk away but I
laugh because we have to laugh at ourselves because we have to laugh
because I haven’t anything else to say because my words are wasted on
genericisms news updates and other useless things wasted on translated
amputated thoughts of my madness. love love love I want to say
infinite joy. but it doesn’t belong to me my words are wasted and we
have to laugh at ourselves and we have to chose our words carefully
otherwise I might not say what I wanted you to hear my dear.

I am dancing now a glittering tinseltown universe of sweat and hugo
boss and Malibu and Coke and dancing now blue gold multicolored
glitter: instructions in english sprinkle lightly or dump liberally
and turn her into a glittering girl dancing now turn her into a
constellation of sweat and lust dancing now turn her into an Object of
Desire for egoboys who don’t talk but kiss closer and whisper turn her
into the arms of boys in dreams before sleep in wishes in lips kissing
closer, closer kissing beautifully beautiful lips smiling egoboy
smiles, arms tangled in glitter in tears in deserts in cities in
dreams before sleep in dancing glittering girls who have nothing to
say. i choose my words carefully i choose to be dancing now.

not years ago, dancing underwater with my sister breathing bubbles and
screaming slowly through liquid like “did you understand what I said?”
laughing she read my lips we screamed slowly underwater in potbellies
in sunshine in froggy bathing suits to make sure we understood. here.
stood here screaming slowly i’m just prolonging the
incomprehensibility of it all, the whispers of egoboys like unthin
girls jeans and i’m kissing you closer, beautifully, you who aren’t
sure if i’m shy or dancing or drunk drinking whispers and kisses and
Malibu where the sun shines and the moon is a hundred broken glass
moons floating out to sea.

Notes: LK- that jam was better than all of my middle school jelly. Thank you!

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Mortification Monday

Sunday, June 26th, 1994

Dear Diary,

I’m back. I stopped writing for awhile because I found an old journal and I fixed my diary. I’m writing in here because I need a lot of space to express my feelings. I wish I had my own room! And my own bathroom. I could finally have some peace and quiet. I could lock the door, turn up my radio, and read or do whatever. I’d also wish for my own phone with my own line. Almost everything would be green and pink flowers. I could have my own desk and be neat. I had my own room for three years but don’t remember it. I also had it for 3 days while my sister was gone. Boy was it nice. I cleaned it and it looked great but when she came home it once again became a Disaster Zone. I hate her and mom. I only like to clean when I feel like it. Every day mom sits on her butt and reads and I clean. Then the house gets messy again. I would love to live in a house full of neat freaks. I would love to live in Lauren’s house. She has her own room with totally cool clothes and stuff. And have a clean house. Why can’t my parents ever try to keep the house in good condition? I’m embarrassed to have anyone over. My house is full of slobs!

Love,

Danielle

 

Notes:

It was hard growing up as the only “neat freak” in a house of non neat freaks. As I’ve grown older I’ve realized that my house growing up was no worse than anyone else’s. But I’m still anal retentive about cleaning and organizing and my sister has stopped letting me come stay with her because I go through her house and clean it and she can’t find anything anymore. Fortunately I married someone who is relatively neat and who totally cool with doing the dishes and laundry and who doesn’t leave dirty socks on the floor. Of course now I own four pets who shed like crazy and despite my best efforts, there are tumbleweeds of pet hair and dust bunnies under my couch.

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Bad Poetry Friday

Friend (c. 1993)

I had a friend

she was my best

she was like a sister

she understood me

she knew me well

and I loved her.

I had a friend

we laughed

we cried

I talked to her

she always listened

we never fought

she got me out of trouble

and I loved her

I had a friend

we were friends for a long time

but then I started to grow up

I grew too old to play

I made other friends

we started to grow apart

but I still loved her

I had a friend

she was imaginary

and I loved her

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Mortification Monday

August 6th, 1993

 

Dear Diary,

If you described me, you’d describe me as 4’9, 75 lbs, blond, blue-green eyes, 7th grader, likes exercising, reading, writing, cleanness, horses, every animal, country music, Garth Brooks, weather, baseball, and Braves. Dislikes hockey, football, messes, sharing rooms, slobs, washing dishes, red meat, Brussel sprouts, mean teachers, jocks, and snobs. TV shows I like: Saved By the Bell, All My Children, Full House, and Step By Step. That’s all.

 

Love, 

Danielle

 

Notes: Amazingly enough most of this is still true. I’m taller and heavier. I still like reading, writing, baseball, and cleanliness and Saved by the Bell reruns. I still hate washing dishes and football.  I’m no longer into horses or country music or Garth Brooks or soap operas and now a meal of Brussel spouts and steak sounds like heaven to me.

 

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Bad Poetry Friday

In Love Again (c 1993)

She swore she’d never love again

but she’s falling for him

she doesn’t want to take the chance of getting hurt

being used and treated like dirt

she doesn’t want to get close enough to feel

the feelings that are real

she doesn’t want to hold or touch

she’s been hurt too much

She wants to be free and wild

to act crazy and like a child

even though she wants to run with the wind

she’s going to end up loving again

She knows he’s funny, sweet, and kind

and in a guy that’s hard to find

she burned some bridges

crossed some tracks

she’s headed for love

and not looking back

tired of running away from harm

she’ll run into his open arms

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Mortification Monday (three days late)

July 21,

I hate parents. Or at least mine. No one tels me anything. I’m in a foul mood today. It all started with my sister not going to Learningwell with my dad. She is a super brat. I mean it. The rain hasn’t made my mood any better. We had to drive super brat to learningwell and pick up my dad. He’s going with my mom to her doctor’s appointment. And on top of that I miss Baron. Why did he hafta die? Lord I miss him like the grass misses the rain, like people miss each other, if you see what I mean. I loved Baron. He was the dog in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD! I mean it. I’m home alone. It’s just me and KC, my cat. Well more for later.

Love,

Danielle

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Inspiration Playlist Volume 1, Track 10 “Nothing But Time”

Cat Power’s album Sun might be the best album to write to at the moment. It’s as introspective as ever and the song “Manhattan” is haunting. I’ve had the album on repeat for days which is how I fell in love with the song “Nothing But Time.” It doesn’t hurt that Iggy Pop provides some backing vocals and that it lasts like 10 minutes.

It’s up to you to be a superhero
It’s up to you to be like nobody

You ain’t got nothing but time
For your way of living
And it ain’t got nothing on you
You ain’t got nothing but time
And it ain’t got nothing on you

 

So this is pretty much my new anthem. There’s no official video for it. You can listen to it here. Or watch a live performance of the song.

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Bad Poetry Friday

Untitled (c. 1993)

When you hugged me

you held me a little too close

You smiled at me

and I looked into your eyes

I wanted to hold you

and kiss you tenderly

I tried to get you to notice me

The me inside

I wanted you to look

into my heart

and see that I loved you

I wanted you to look

into my soul

and see the real me.

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Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award begins next week

This is a PSA for all of the aspiring YA and adult writers out their on the interwebs. Mark your calendars, the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award (ABNA) begins next Monday, January 14th. 

If you’ve got a 50k-150k word novel on your hard drive (perhaps from NaNoWriMo?) this might be your ticket. You’d be a fool not to try because the prizes are AMAZEBALLS. One Grand Prize winner will receive a publishing contract with an advance of $50,000, and four First Prize winners will each receive a publishing contract with an advance of $15,000. All of this is through Amazon’s publishing portal CreateSpace.

Did I mention that there are five categories this year? General Fiction, Romance, Mystery/Thriller, Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror and Young Adult Fiction.

Now is the time to prep. Amazon gives you a great list, including these tidbits:

1) Prepare a strong pitch. More than a summary, your pitch should highlight your concept, protagonist, setting and writing style—all the elements that make your story unique. 

2) Stay within the word-count limits — pitch, up to 300 words; excerpt, 3,000 to 5,000 words; manuscript, 50,000 to 150,000 words.

3) View the official contest rules.

 

This could be your big ticket. Just don’t forget the little people in your life when you’re rolling around in 50k cash money.

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Mortification Monday

July 18th, 1993

Dear Diary,

This morning when I awoke I realized that never again would my dog, Baron, wake me up with his wet nose or would lay on the floor next to my bed during storms. It’s good to remember the past. But nothing will change the fact that I miss him. We’re gonna get a puppy sometime. No other dog will ever be like him. I loved him. I still do. There’s a hole in my heart where he was. I cried myself to sleep last night. We are in our van from our spur of the moment trip to Jacksonville, FL. My dads idea. Had fun with Chris and Aunt D and Uncle R. Shopped.

 

Love,

Danielle

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