Hear Me


(On the Seashore, George Elgar Hicks, 1879)

Hear Me

You don’t listen,

You don’t listen,

You don’t listen!

The volume of my shadowed self

Expressing all that I am, all that need

Blocked, distorted, pushed away

You don’t listen

I plea, “Hear me!”

Bearing all of me

My soul, my heart, my guttural longings

You don’t listen

Held in contempt

Having to live up to those I am not

Those you value…over me

You do not listen

Your perception clouded in imagery

Wanting someone, something that does not exist

Never good enough

You do not listen

Unending tears; bleeding of the heart

Melancholia, disconsolate

Woeful of what is left of my life

You do not listen

You do not listen

You do not listen!

Revelations of Truth


(Blue Nude, Pablo Picasso, 1902)


Revelations of Truth

I am already a woman of failure

Less than worthy to be admired

The benefactress of ridicule…the butt of jokes as if it is fair game

My life…my mistakes, my blunders, my missteps,

(My losses, my heartaches, my despair)

I cannot change what I have been, my life of love so failed

On display for commentary by all…by you

Your kindness towards me a mere charade of your perception

A pretense of your mockery

But to fail as a mother…

The one thing you hold sacred


I am not ready to see that judgment in your eyes

You won’t be able not to

It will come so naturally you will wonder how you ever saw me differently before


I am not ready for the finger pointing

The talks behind my back

The judgements…the judgments, always the judgments

As if I have not pointed my own finger at the woman in the mirror…stared at the woman in pathetic examination

As if my head has not rattled the million thoughts of my failures; my  own vilification

As if I have not been my own court of condemnation; flogging my soul with damnation


Not now

I am not ready to reveal my weakest part

I am not strong enough

Not yet…not to you

The Road Less Traveled

recovery-1221737__340.jpgIt has been awhile. The thought of writing my blog has haunted me. Not that I don’t love it. I just have been working on my novels. And boy do they need work! I’ve come to learn, I am not a great writer.

Hmmmm, I am not sure I had proclaimed I was…but all the same, I do need to hone my craft. I think I always knew that in the back of my head. I just was so excited to get the story out of my head, I didn’t stop to make sure my writing was up to standards. I need to learn to write well. Write beautifully…not just beautiful stories.

So, in my pursuit to be ‘the best that I can be,’ I have been working on writing. I have been writing non-stop for months. It is endless, but I think I am making progress. I took a two day course with an amazing coach, Margie Lawson, and have now purchased a few more courses from her. SHE IS AMAZING…did I already say that? As I told her, it was like she cleaned my windshield and now I can see the road more clearly. My writing is better…much better because of her. I also realized how little I really know about being a writer. With craft books purchased, writing seminars planned, and even a writing class in the future maybe I will not only create beauty for the mind, but write beautiful words for the eyes.

Which leads me to my real reason to write today. I am in a quandary: Write the way I want, or write what the publishing world is asking?

Of course, you would say, do research and find out what others are doing. Well, that is just the problem. EVERYONE HAS AN OPINION. Every writer, every agent, every publisher.  The advise is wide and splintered.

“Write to the genre standards.”

Haven’t big books, successful books, talked about books been out of the box?” Certainly Harry Potter’s magical world was not so common when written. It wasn’t even meant for children. There were horror books before, but Stephen King’s psychological terror meshed with superstitions and the supernatural brought on a whole dimension people had never really imagined. He didn’t make you imagine…he made it reality!

“Write for you.”

Everyone…and I mean EVERYONE has a story. Not necessarily a story most people want to hear let alone read 300 pages. Writers are as diverse as civilizations. Different things appeal to different people. That is the beauty of writing, and the importance of finding your market/readers. Now, getting published when your readers/market is not “popular” (Wicked’s song is now playing in my head) is the battleground writers must overcome. The publishing world is definitely a popularity contest. And there is an inner circle. (That is a whole other blog.) But writers must also admit, there are many stories that people may never want to read…so not every story that you want to write is going to be appealing. Not every story you write needs to be published.

“Write for the reader.”

Readers do know what they like…until you give them something new and then they like that too! Readers are the greatest fans. They enjoy reading and will read what is given to them. But…the publishing world is losing sight of something that isn’t really being monitored. Readers aren’t always enjoying what they are reading. What is being published isn’t always what readers are craving, nor exciting them. They will read what the New York Times tells them too. They read because they want to read. They read because they can’t not read…give them a book, any book, and they will read it. But that doesn’t necessarily equate to what they seek, want, or are looking for.

And the final advise is invariably, “Write what is in your heart.” (Can you hear my breathy voice oozing with sarcasm??????) Can we say, “Bullshit!”

Isn’t the whole point of creating to bring something new, open minds, and offer refreshing perspectives? Giving readers more than they could ever imagine or think? Isn’t that why we write? Doesn’t that have value?

Okay, I get it. Give them what they want and that should equate to success. (Or so I am told.) Creating isn’t always about breaking the mold. Sometimes…no a lot of times…it is about painting the same mold different colors, or dressing it in new outfits, or even doing nothing at all but presenting it on a different shelf, or in a different city. I get it. Not all creative venture is life changing.

My writing isn’t life changing. And according to my editor who, and I quote, “Wanted to throw the first twelve chapters of my latest novel against the wall,” my writing isn’t all that great either. But I do have a distinctive purpose for my writing, making my style unique, and out of the box. In other words, I am not in the popular group!

Do I quit? Do I just give up and say, “Writing is not my destiny.”

As pathetic as this may all sound, I am an ass kicker! I have lived my whole life walking outside the line. Not in a rebellious way. I am as prim and proper as they come. Thrill seeking is not my forte. But, I have always been an outsider…followed my own path. And I do what I do with conviction and strength. It is the only way I have survived the knock down punches, rejections, scoffing, finger pointing, teasing, and judgments.

I am a stand alone woman.

Have I been successful? I guess it is how you look at it. Successful at being me? Absolutely. Successful with fame and fortune….not so much!

Is it hard? DAMN SURE! I may be a stand alone woman, but I still break. I still succumb to self doubt. I am human.

So, here I am. My quandary to write the way I started…write in a style that is all mine? The reason I started writing? Or, do I succumb to the masses and just put a personal shade of lipstick on the mold?

I am not good enough to be blazing new roads. Not yet. I need to be able to travel where others have gone, to get where I am going. But, it is at a sacrifice to my creativity. I am trying to balance both…and in the meantime, work on my craft so that maybe…I will be able to pull aside and take an unknown route that has my name on it.

Ink Upon Paper


(Correspondent, Antoine Emile Plassan, 1817)

Ink Upon Paper

Flittering of thoughts

Ink upon paper

Written before you

Not in rhymes or riddles

Nor hidden or in code

All eyes can bear witness

Of the words that appear

Unfolding in meaning

To each his own

Words of longing; prayers in vain

Of all that is longed for

Releasing the damned and liberating the soul

I share of my heart, true and unfiltered

Word upon word, revealing all of me

In the only way that I can

But if you look closely

Revelations belie

The seeker shall find

For only you they have purpose

If you wish to lay claim
















Chop Chop


It all boils down to my hair!  Yup. My philosophy on life all comes down to how I make decisions about my haircut.

I had to stay out of the sun all summer due to some skin cancer issues on my nose. (All good…no worries.) Needless to say, I  was relegated to wearing a hat when I went outside. For most people this is no big deal. I mean, who doesn’t wear a baseball cap? Me. My head is so small that a cap basically doesn’t fit my head. Top that, (no pun intended) I have a skinny neck and my hips are the size of Canada. My proportions are…Well, let just say my head is not cap friendly. To offset this little problem (big if you are referring to my hips) I had to grow out my hair so that I had something other than my pencil neck sticking out of the cap.

All was good. I grew out my hair.

My long hair was “pretty.” People liked it. Well, apparently, they liked it a lot. For I just cut it and the response was…not positive. (When you cut your hair and no one says anything, that is being hostile!) Apparently, some didn’t want me to cut it…so shunning me is their response in protest. When pushed, I asked, “Well, what do you think?” I got the old, “I liked it better the other way,” from my daughter. My son said, “What?” My husband went so far as to say, “I like the back.” My best friend said nothing and pretended it didn’t happen.


So, here’s the thing. I LOVE IT! I have always loved my hair short. If I were to admit, it is “pretty” when it is longer. Isn’t long hair always pretty? Long hair is supposed to be sexier, prettier, more seductive.(Really?) But when I wear my hair longer, I feel like I am wearing a wig. I am more comfortable, happier, and feel more like myself in short hair. It suits me and my personality. I can be “pretty” with short hair. (There are moments!)  I think I am rather a seductive woman no matter what my hair length is. (Again, I have my moments!) But, my hair shouldn’t define my worth of being a woman of substance. It is just hair, people! 

But my hair does represent  a lot. It represents how I feel about myself and my inner strength: I don’t let others define who I am. I do what is inherently me. I define who I am, because I am the one living in my body, my mind, my self. Do I want to be attractive to others, make them view me in a positive way, and feel comfortable about how they see me? I think that is inherent as social beings. But at what expense? Should I be scoffed and ignored when I don’t behave to those standards? I can be all they want and expect, outside of their rigid standards: long hair=woman=pretty,sexy, desirable.

I think being true to yourself is inherently beautiful.

No one should be setting standards for you. You need to do what makes you comfortable, and be accepting with your decision. Not everyone is going to like it. But if you are true to yourself, you will be A-ok!