Unexpected Love

Like running up to someone, fog thick and smeary, screaming,
"my life is ending!" and they reply in much the same intonation,
"So is Mine!" "What do we do?" and, of course, being
foibled and spun of mortality, the answer is to fuck.
Fierce and full of belly grumbles from
sustenance slipped by missed in sweated kisses
or held all sweetly in tingling finger tips.

 Then, when the fog clears and time swells golden
in sated sorrows and salted letting go,
in coffee and cigarettes offered in acceptance, then,
at who knows what time, you are hating yourself for soliloquising
in the living room as shaking arms encircle
the stone of sobs you have somehow swallowed.

But a new moment grows, under the quiet stars
and in the candlelight, by words and gestures
that alight with gentle knowing,
all fruitfall hope growing
amidst the adverse aridity.
As weeds growing through cracks in concrete.

"There was nothing." One would say.
"There was never nothing." the other would reply,
both owing of beauty and giving,
letting roots run deep with minds
on the now and an eye on the future.

in twaine

 it stretches in silence
this whine pulled long, loose and fine

    not enuf slices of pie to swirl

painted glimpses of nows past
into rationalised sighs

diffusion perhaps
is the issue forthright

   all over in cusses the
                  cusp of the tongue tips

or refusion to effuse
in spite of blight when
brighted thoughts anoint

              but for pointed fingers and shy eyes

Which issues then most grave?
When one of the grave and the other
in peril
sweat spiked silence esues

much better then, this
reattaching quintessence

Mera

A pencil (and a little accidental charcoal) sketch of Mera. Very much a work in progress.

When the End is Nigh: Understanding Narrative

   On lock down.

Pressure of last ch.s, followed by yearned for and feared readers, leads to much stereotypical anguish.

Coffee, how I used to drink it, and cigarettes, note to self:

Less words written is more.

Re-read: MS; structural edit and synopsis, time-lined plot/s/arcs/themes/clues. Re-examine chara's action/reaction vs motivation/conflict. Hold disparate threads clear in mind and view as a whole.

Word count is important (whatever it may be): data to delineate pattern of story structure. All those pies from childhood, less strenuous to an already chaotic mind.
-how aligns to classic structures?
-how/why differentiates?
-overlay/overview

//buisnesshead: Look at what sells in market, commerciability consideration to temper creativity.//

Re-writes: Understand what you meant to say, but probably failed at.
-Keep final ch.s trim//pacing
-Expand within rise/fall of earlier tension (just replace the unnecessary description from where your subconscious knew where something was meant to be but wasn't quite a kenning exactly what it was yet.)
-Keep taunt

Restrictions create necessary friction but beware constriction. Don't hold back. Let go of fear and remember the smell of books on a rainy summer day, curled up around another world.

(also: blogging doesn't count)