Definitions

Beautiful.

ineffablemrjones

 

 

Motivation.
Desire.
The need to want to…
The want to need…

Time steps on my neck,
A bully with eternal weight.

Thoughts are ethereal in the confines of loneliness.

Words are constructs, fences for the imaginative.
There must be a translation for perspectives.
Like Analog to Digital.

Generations seem defined by their accomplishment.
Mine, is lack thereof…

Motivation.
Desire.
The want to be…
The acknowledgment of need…

The need to be understood.
The want of meaning.
What word means both, a want and a need?

Words make living harder to achieve.

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Sometimes…

Sometimes I believe there is always a way…sometimes I wish the door would close forever. Life is a complication of choices, death a clear-cut selection.

Sometimes I think now is as good a time as any…sometimes I think yesterday was easier, it held more promise, perhaps more delusion. The truth lives more in today, taking hope in its own direction.

Sometimes there are no answers…sometimes there are no questions, simply facts. I am responsible for me, no one else, even if no one recognizes me anymore.

At this point in my life, no one seeks my heart with the intensity of a lover. Many are in my heart, but they arrived there by default or have been there so long they don’t notice its walls surrounds them anymore.

I realize day by day my heart has become a city that others inhabit but no one owns…or wants to own, at least not more than a small piece of it.

Yes, That Is A Giant Penis

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(A rainbow-colored, glittery one at that)

I love parades. Apparently so do lots of others. Like the folks here watching the parade I went to on Saturday. I like to get out from behind my computer every once in a while, to see the “real” world so I can create realistic, “normal” characters. Just a good writing skill I’ve learned.

A Writer’s Life is Complicated

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(This is me, trying to have it all)

Writing is an obsession. Writing is a chore. It’s the strangest dichotomy I know of to love something that makes you want to pull your hair out. Stories never stop meandering their way through my head. The problem is they don’t meander onto the paper, or the computer screen, at least not with anything resembling ease.

A second level of frustration, for me at least, is the vast difference in those stories. I love to write humor, to know that people are laughing at the words I put together. But I also love to write gut-wrenching emotion. I like mayhem and destruction. I write dark and sometimes morbid plays, humorous romance novels, contemporary murder mysteries and fantasy short stories. Perhaps I need mood management more than lessons on my craft.

And a bit of shameless promotion:

The latest review for my novel, Ghost of a Clue, from The Wild Rose Press can be found here: http://www.drcpromotions.com/2015/05/review-a-ghost-of-a-clue-by-debra-doggett/

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I Did It…Again

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You know how writers like to talk about their writing space? Well, for the moment, this is mine. I did something I’ve done far too many times in my life yet again. I moved. If you want to get an idea of how often I’ve done that, I have three children, each born in a different state. You would think I’d be better at it than this. I have, however, got much less stuff to move these days. It’s still a pain though. But, back to writing.