Fiction is an improvement on life.

And I haven’t been writing! I’ve just been studying for the GRE. I was supposed to finish a second short story and finish some poems. I only finished one poem, wrote a whole new poem, and started to write another poem. Oh well. I’ll get to them.


kushitekalkulus:

COLLECTION OF YORUBA ORISHAS

Remember when this was going around? Well I was thinking it would be cool to write a story with these deities so I started doing some research.  I found some books that do feature them if any one wants to check it out. There’s even one by Gabriel Garcia Marquez! 

http://filhodelogunede.blogspot.com/2009/07/fiction-with-african-traditional.html


Day 1 - Writing Prompt 30 Day Challenge

Writing Prompt 30 Day Challenge 

http://30daychallengearchive.tumblr.com/post/832610035/writing-prompt-30-day-challenge

Day 1 - Select a book at random in the room. Find a novel or short story, copy down the last sentence and use it as the first line for your story.

She called in her soul to come and see

how the sunset bleeds into the ocean so effortlessly.

The orange and purple slipped into the water as the blue turned navy then black.

She wished her soul could just as easily escape

his grasp. She called in her soul to watch and learn

how to simply slip away. 


Coral put down her pen and massaged her temples. She wanted to complete this poem. She felt capable now. For years, she had felt she was too close to the subject. Her therapist suggested it was a good idea to write this out. She closed her eyes and imagined the beach house she used to live in. She could hear and smell the ocean. She saw him standing in the living room and tried not be afraid. She was in control. It was better than a memory; it was her imagination. He smiled at her. His deep dimples were filled with fading sunlight. She smiled too and looked out the giant windows to see the ocean. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and opened her eyes quickly. She looked over her shoulder and sighed. She had forgotten that he was coming over; that she had left the door unlocked for him. She didn’t think she would get that caught up in her poetry.

"I’m sorry," Ezekiel said. "I didn’t mean to scare you."

"It’s okay," she said. She grabbed his hand. "I was just thinking about the ocean. I’m working on a poem."

"You’re writing again? That’s great," he said. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Do you miss living by the beach?"

"Sometimes," she said. 

"We could visit," he said. "If you’re ready."

Coral met Ezekiel last year at the local library. She had been looking for a new series to start. She felt like she was getting too old for young adult novels, but many of her other 30-something-year-old friends disagreed. He had warned her that the book she was inspecting was bad and asked her what she was looking for. They managed to get into a debate about who Katniss should’ve been with at the end of The Hunger Games series. Eventually, they agreed to disagree. He suggested a series and asked for her number. She told him if she liked the first book, she would call him. So Ezekiel gave her his number and a few weeks later, she called.

"Yes, I think I am," Coral said.

She hadn’t spoken to her ex-boyfriend or been to the beach in years. She had forgiven him a few years ago. She had forgiven herself a few weeks before she met Ezekiel. She didn’t want such a beautiful place to harbor bad memories anymore. She often tried to remember the ones from her childhood. The many times her mother explained why she named her Coral - declaring her a beautiful thing in a beautiful place like all coral reefs of the sea. Her mother also called her vibrant and unique. Coral used to sing and dreamed of being an actress until her ex-boyfriend knocked her breath out of her. He mocked her dreams and she pretended to forget about them.

"Let’s go to a beach you’ve never been before," he said. "We could even go out of the country. The beaches in Barbados are so beautiful."

"We should see The Great Barrier Reef," she said. "Just to see how strong and mighty coral can be."

He smiled at her. “I agree.”

"She called in her soul to come and see."- The last line of Their Eyes were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston.


To JK Rowling from Cho Chang - Rachel Rostad

As a writer, this poem emphasizes not only the importance of representing diversity, but the importance of representing diversity properly.


I got another rejection email about a job, but I found $15 in one of my purses and one of my favorite graduation gifts. My mom also keeps telling me that this is a great time to work on my novel. I did want to write a poetry book first, but maybe poetry is a comfort zone I need to step out of for now.