Elevator pitch

Darkness. I remember the darkness. Soft, warm, and extremely volatile. Fragile. With the smell of freshly washed underwear. Naked. Without feelings. Just holding curiosity with my small clenched fingers.

Break. I don’t put together. I break. Not to pieces. Not to particles. To invisible and back. To deflated Super Nova. I am wrenched. I am dishonest. Dissociative in the warm darkness. Now with the smell of freshly picked roses. I am invited. I am called out.

Even though I never wanted to begin.

I am pulled. But I am not scared. My scream protects me. Brings me joy. Brings me ecstasy.

I walk barefoot. But I feel tingling under my tongue. Tongue is curled, bent, stretched as it hatches a like hen’s egg into words I finally roll out. In bravery. In mastery. Of the incoming daylight.

I still walk, as coldness envelopes me. There is a sudden nudge. I stand still now. Like a proud trunk of the tree in the cold winter wind. I stand and withhold. I stand, but darkness moves upwards, in the delight of echoing noise coming from beneath. Buttons are lit on my left side. But only number 5 works. I press it gently.

The door opens to a garden by the river. There is a flock of magpies lying around. Mating. My father takes me by the hand to search for dandelions. Their yellow, perching, capricious heads open and close, fast as the minute goes by. I smile.

I blink and coldness envelops me. The nudge is even stronger this time. I crouch to remain still and by accident, I press button 17.

The rhythm of drums seduces me. I move in a trance as wet bodies, reckless limbs, and disjointed intentions rub against my pale and bruised skin. The kisses fly around me. Some I catch and wear instead of lipstick. Some I imprison and they wiggle in my mouth like a drunken moth fantasizing of a broken bulb. Some I lose in the distant gaze of dim lights and beer stains.

As I breathe I am in newly found darkness. I need rest. I need to put my beating heart in retard fast. I lean on a cold wall, but suddenly there is a hand against my neck. To my surprise is gentle, slick, and tracks my arrow bones so tightly. As it founds the way to my pants, parts me with all my will and his experienced skill.

As I moan in fervor, the nudge double in amount. 34. The strange new land in front of me. The network of water, out of this place tulips pauses, smelling of early autumn and forgotten spring. Rain pouring flinched in pondering little lakes. I jump over. But I never get it there. The jump. The step. The walk. The run. The fly. The wings. The pace. The padding. It’s so saddening. Never enough.

I crave coldness. Under my nails. Above my eyebrows. In between flickering lights on my left side. I crave going down. The stairs. At my own pace. Without wings and safety nets. I crave zero. Below zero of Russian taigas and Norwegian tundra’s. I crave below the earth, where there is only 1 sun to admire. One basement to wish for.

The Wind is still Strong

The container of time lost by the wind. It escapes the boundary, as I float towards my culmination. Twists and turns in red lights, no floors in between, bends at her own knees, lovingly seeing true colors of the day. The morning has the smell of fear, the one that sticks to your nostrils, and as much you try to exhale it, it plaques stronger to your bones.

The say resilience is the savior, many moons looked after. And I miss, like a Halley’s Comet I miss, once, again, just like 40 years go, to be fully me. To accept myself. To value myself. To honor myself. Fear is ever-present, it’s my new air. I don’t know of anything else.

I try to remember in my own container of space how can I collect myself and knot the peace out of pieces of my broken soul. My head was bowed for too many suns and my back only recognizes heaviness and disappointment.

I often write of happiness, of that meeting, collided opportunities, where your true self shines, as you embrace your shadow. But nobody tells you how to tumble in the dark in the meantime. How to find a meaning in rhythms, as you try to fathom repetitive cycles of lessons you refused to learn – or your teachers were simply lousy?

I laugh at myself often, as the wind kicks me in the chest, still I swallow my fear, cannot spit it out fast enough. In the remnants of what I would like to be my old self, I find trails of never-forgotten childhood stories and anecdotes, so finely wrapped in the middle age tears and regret.

I lost my gravitational tides, I recognize only one e-motion, as my moon has dissipated far away. I don’t know how to rise again. As everyone around is so neatly pulled together, I break, once again, I break and there is no end.

I am a bat, carved in my cave, there are no senses except for my heart that beats so loud and relentlessly in hope it will frighten my fear. Will it ever run away?

The wind is still strong. Maybe if I hold on tightly for just a second will I become more resilient. More real. More me.

Poet and the sky: Poem by K. Morris

Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind (an excerpt)

On seeing the stormy sky
The poet thinks “man must die”.
He sees the young girl bloom
And says “she is destined for the tomb”.
Oh let us gather wild flowers
And not waste our powers
Trapped in ivory towers.
Beware the scholar’s domed head
For we are soon dead.
May our spirit fly

Ere we die
And are lost in endless sky”.

For more beautiful and inspiring poetry visit newauthoronline.com

A Writer’s Path Writers Club

Hello everyone! A fellow blogger of A Writer’s Path, Ryan Lanz, has announced the launch of his new initiative: A Writer’s Path Writers Club.

After looking at the writing market for years, he noticed a need for a Writers Club of this kind. Sure, there are Facebook groups, writers groups, etc., but there aren’t many associations that are more than just a gathering of writers.

He wanted to create a club where the sole purpose of it is to solve headaches for writers. Here are some of the headaches he’s looking to solve:

  • It’s hard to find reviewers for my book
  • Writing-related service providers (editors, book cover designers, etc.) are expensive
  • I don’t know if my writing is good enough and I need feedback
  • I need more promotion for my book
  • I don’t know if my blurb or summary is good enough
  • Not enough readers know my book exists
  • I don’t know enough about what other successful authors have done to be successful
  • I don’t know if my book cover encourages readers to purchase it

And of course, there are fun stuff to be had too, such as giveaways and contests. Here’s the full list of benefits for the Writers Club:

      • Discounts from writer-related service providers, such as editors, book cover designers, proofreading services, ghostwriters, social media marketing, book advertising, template design, audio book narration, and more.
      • Contests and giveaways for free services and books.
      • free book promotion posts on A Writer’s Path blog every year (example here). Every post generates a social media shout-out of your book to my Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, Tumblr, and Google+ account (total of 12,900 followers). he’ll set reminders for himself to notify you when your next post is ready.
      • Exclusive articles not seen on the A Writer’s Path blog.
      • Access to free blurb coaching.
      • Book of the Month” lottery. Winner gets their book featured for a month on A Writer’s Path blog in a tab along the top of every page/post. Also included is a promotional post featuring their book, summary, cover, and purchase links to all 25,000+ subscribers. One drawing per month.
      • Help to find you reviewers and critique partners (optional).
      • A free copy of his eBook, The Idea Factory: 1,000 Story Ideas & Writing Prompts to Find Your Next Bestseller. ($2.99 value)
      • Free critique of your book summaries and book covers (optional).
      • Insider tips from published authors in short, bite-sized articles.
      • Links to free books normally at full price.
      • Opportunities to show off your book to the other members.
      • Exclusive author interviews.

Feel free to check out A Writer’s Path Writers Club here.


If you liked this post, please share. And, If you you are interested in getting more inspiration for your creativity, writing and personal growth, sign up for our free monthly newsletter. You’ll get a free e-book with 31 daily prompts to inspire your writing. For additional tips, follow us on twitter and connect with us on facebook.

I don’t write. Can I still call myself a writer?

This is very interesting statement. A paradox in its literal translation, the negation in first sentence do implies a logical answer to question, but I still want to elaborate this and offer some additional thoughts.

Many of you know that Business in Rhyme has been established two years ago. With over 600 published posts, this spring it went into more professional realm, hence it coincided with injury of my right arm and deprived me of regular writing for many months. It forced me to somehow reinvent my routine and opened doors to additional possibilities and projects. The truth is also, that I at the moment enjoy other things besides writing (like my renewed interest for astrology, cosmology and nutrition) and I often ask myself: “Am I really a writer, can I call myself a writer since now I can go for days without writing – at least not in the form I am used to?” It’s not only that with my coaching and other projects I have less time for writing, but sincerely I don’t have that urging need to write. Being that poetry, for blog or journaling. However, I still do believe in all the benefits that writing can bring you. But what to do when you simply don’t feel like writing? And I don’t mean for a day or two, but it can go literally for months! Are you still a writer? One thing I’m certain in my case is that eventually I will go back to regular, full time writing. How will that look like? I don’t have answer to that question.

The truth is, that every action and experience you gain in your life is material for your writing. So you don’t feel like writing? That’s ok. Don’t hit your head against the wall. Don’t blame or push yourself if it doesn’t come naturally. But probably in your spare time you are reading, you are doing research (like I do at the moment). Real writer not only writes. He does everything in between that will enrich his story, poem, novel …He lives. When you consciously put yourself to be active participant in your life, not dwelling on the past or getting worried about the future, you are like an antenna receiving all valuable information that becomes raw material for anything you want to write. There is no wasted moment. It can’t be. You and your perception unfolds in the same manner as life which you are essential part of. And that becomes unique ingredient which moves your writing from ordinary to magnificent. No minute is wasted.

Many of you are also acquainted with my preference to quality over quantity.  Instead of wrestling with words you don’t like and find unsatisfactory, simply stop. Listen. Bring yourself to present time and feel what you would like to do. Go for a walk. Talk to a friend. Take a break. Even if it takes you months to find words you like, adore, that are strong enough and convey what you want to say.

Friends often ask me did I get tired of writing or do I have a ‘writer’s block’. I don’t think so. But there we can create like gaps in our routines, activities and the way we spend our time that somehow (at least in my case) we have need for something different in order to be pulled back to what we love. So I’m using this my pause in regular writing as an opportunity to remind myself why I love and need writing, why I am writer.

I hope that this will help also anyone of you who are maybe struggling with writing and are indecisive about their writing goals and direction. Just listen to yourself, you have the answer within you. You are a writer if you decide to be one. No number of pages or published books will tell or prove you that. Only you can.


If you liked this post, please share. And, If you you are interested in getting more inspiration for your creativity, writing and personal growth, sign up for our free monthly newsletter. You’ll get a free e-book with 31 daily prompts to inspire your writing. For additional tips, follow us on twitter and connect with us on facebook.

4 reasons why ‘fake it till you make it’ is bad advice for writer

fake_writer

Have you ever read your words for a couple of times and thought “Oh my God, this is really bad, this really sucks!” ? Well it happens to every writer from time to time – that his own thoughts seem strange to him, like he’s faking his own writing!

The truth is, many of us struggle to represent themselves as who they are. They’ll rather follow the trends on social media, rambling about safe topics and not expressing their real opinions. Why? We all have that ingrained need to be liked, loved, accepted – if possible by everybody.

And that my friend it’s simply Sisyphean venture. Many do try to ‘fake till they make’ – build a readership and ‘when the time is right’, they’ll start to write what they really think and feel. Well, there is a slight problem with this approach: If you only follow the crowd, your words are just another minuscule drop in the ocean of the sameness.

I do believe that we as writers have a responsibility to say and write our mind – being that in science, history, poetry or religion. Expressing our opinions in bold, courageous way is not easy, but that’s how change happens. That’s how we open doors to new opportunities, and connect with people we never new existed.

People will care about your words if they can sense your honesty and belief behind them.

And here today, let me share with you what I think is (also in my own case) 4 main reasons we sometimes feel like we deceived our own writing:

  1. You apologize for who you are.

You have probably noticed that brave writers, with strong words and opinions – just don’t give a damn what other people think of them. They don’t apologize for who they are.

They own their opinions and perspective as a part of their own identity. So neither should you hide yourself behind nicely packed words with silky ribbon. Being bold in your writing is being able to take a stand and give yourself permission to share your story.

At the beginning of writing this blog, I was scared – what on earth a geophysicist has so important to say about poetry? But maybe there’s the catch – it offers completely different point of view from someone who studied English literature or creative writing. And as the blog began to grow so did my confidence to more openly share my opinions, intimate stories, struggles. Because that’s what writers do. You never know how your writing will reach and touch someone else.

  1. You are afraid to be vulnerable.

I know, world can be a cruel place. When you are completely open in your writing, everything you are becomes naked and so fragile to every negative comment, rejection, criticism… But this is the part of being a real writer. No matter how many slaps in your face you get, you are still there, showing up, continuing your work and firmly standing behind your words. Don’t be afraid to write about what you feel, what you experienced – it is real to you.

At the beginning of writing this blog I also clang towards safe, general topics. Yet with time, I also felt a need to share more personal experiences I got through poetry and I can tell you it is really liberating. As the act of writing is so fulfilling, so it is being able to show everyone how that wonderful, simple craft or art – you can call it whatever you like, is an amazing tool available to everyone. Everyone! And this blog simply transformed itself into a mission to make that more approachable and understandable to people. And I share some of my painful experiences where poetry directed me to the path of healing. I am vulnerable in my writing but it also has a purpose that’s much stronger and bigger than my fear of being hurt.

  1. You strive towards non-existent perfectionism.

Not good enough. That is the sentence we repeat like mantra and  I believe is the greatest enemy to creativity. As writers we sometimes put so high standards in front of us, that we cloud our reasonable judgment – in times we don’t even see how we are putting the bars higher and higher.

There’s no such thing as perfect writing. There is honest writing, fueled with emotion, passion, purpose and belief. That’s what you should strive for.

  1. Somewhere along the way you lost the intention that drives your writing and it’s hard to get back on track.

You can recognize that this topic is repeating in many of my posts, because I know how it is important  to know why you write. Your writing should seek to contribute, offer different perspective, encourage, inspire, support, analyze / synthesize information or simply to entertain.

Once you become clear with that, you can easily translate vision into a writing goal – then you produce meaningful work.

Do you feel like fake sometimes in your own work? What are your thoughts on this topic? Please share in the comments below.


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NaPoWriMo day 16: I wrote myself down

on this paper,

 

in this poem you are reading.

But I’m not in the words or letters:

I’m in the chuckle, right there,

in the left corner of your lips

as you are reading this;

 

I’m the silliness

which makes you want to turn your head

and forget everything previously said.

 

I wrote myself down

on this paper,

As I’m the poet without words and letters

armed only with parchment, ink and  silky feathers.

I’m just the messenger of an emotion

flying on the wings of his total devotion,

To let you see that life is

to be enjoyed, fully

it’s a precious gem, given to you

only meant for you

to shine purely.

 

Maja S. Todorovic