Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

1/1/22

Desire (A Poem)

 Drawn to darkness

Toeing the line

Between

Good

and

Evil

The wholesome interested you
With its wheat bran
and the touch of sweetness,

but the dark desire beckoned
And you--

Wanting what wasn't yours-- 

dipped just the tip
lost control
and drowned in decadence.

9/20/20

Ego’s Blog Challenge: Week 3 Milwordy Check In

I put in all my word numbers for now and it says that I have written approximately 43000 words so far for milwordy.  That’s a pretty good number for me, considering that I sometimes struggle to do 50,000 in one month when I’m doing Nanowrimo. I’m not entirely on pace to be doing the whole shebang right now, but I am getting words. 

So, three weeks in, what has milwordy done for me so far?

I think I’ve developed this habit of writing at least twice a day now. I have usually been up in the morning doing Morning Pages for the Artist’s Way or reading or just sort of toddling about.  I get up much earlier than my husband does, even in the summer when I don’t have classes, and I cherish that morning time, that time when I can just do whatever I want, as long as I don’t have to go in the bedroom. We have a very small apartment, so when I am in the office, the bedroom is right next door, and the living room is right behind me. 700 square feet is tight quarters for two people, even in a two bedroom apartment, but I like my husband and he’s a writer, so he understands if I am sitting in front of a keyboard with my fingers flying and my noise canceling ear phones on that I am writing.  

The stuff that I write in the morning is often stuff that is inconsequential. My thoughts on the previous day, just getting words on the page.  I call it my mental vomit.  I get all the stuff in me up and out on to the page.  Of course that metaphor goes away when I start to think about that I go over what I have put on the page and I think about what I want to keep and what is important to me, and what I can use, but often it is just crap, just some sort of mental garbage that I need to get out of me so that I can go on with my day and be a regular human being, whatever that is. Morning writing is where I can get the things that are bothering me out of me so that I don’t have to think about them.  I put them on the page, and they can stay there, and I don’t have to think about them. That is what is most important.  I can leave these thoughts there and come back to them, but more often than not, they stay there on the page.  I will copy and paste these thoughts into my DayOne App, which is a great journaling app that just sort of keeps everything in one place and I can add tags and pictures and things, but more often than not, I just copy, paste and forget.

My evening writing is a little bit different.  I spend time with it usually. I will write about writing; I will write about books that I am reading. The most important thing that I do in the evening is write for other people. While the morning writing is just word vomit to get thoughts out of my head, the evening writing is things that someday someone will read - hopefully. I write my blog posts in the evening, I will work on my novels in the evenings, and sometimes I’ll write a poem or two.  The evening writing is for an audience, and it gives my day a settled feeling, like I’m actually accomplishing something, that I have done some good in the world.

Milwordy has begun to help with that.  It motivates me to put the words on the page. I may be a bit behind, but really I’m only competing against the person who I used to be, and if I’m only competing against her, I’m winning every day because I’m creating this habit of writing for myself... and for any audience that I may get

9/1/20

Ego’s Blog Challenge: Day 1: Milwordy


What is Milwordy?  It’s craziness, it’s awesomeness, it’s a deadline, which as I am well aware is something that I need in order to do any good work.  If you want a really good resource on why deadlines are good for me, there is a very good TED talk on procrastination which I show to my students at the beginning of the school year every year. You can find the link HereIn it Tim Urban writes about how there are basically three components to a proscrastinator’s life- and we are all procrastinators.  He wrote a blog about it called “The Procrastination Matrix” in which he describes the reason that we need this deadline (Link). We all have a little monkey inside of us that wants us to to go crazy and do whatever. My procrastination monkey is prone to watching YouTube videos which are based on stupid reddit posts. Most of these posts highlight how awful people are, and I shouldn’t be watching them, but my procrastination monkey is absolutely *fascinated* with the idea that there are people out there who are awful, and she can judge them for being awful.  One of her favorite Reddit forums is “Am I the Asshole” because 90% of the time, you can definitely say to the person who wrote the main post that yes, they are an asshole, and being able to call someone an asshole because they asked for it is very satisfying to her little monkey brain.  She can do this for hours. But, if I have a deadline, the Panic Monster will kick her tiny monkey butt off of YouTube so fast that her monkey brain has no time to protest. So, I need a deadline.  Deadlines are very important to me. I wouldn’t get half of my grading done without the deadline of report cards out there, so I need that deadline.

Milwordy is hopefully going to give me that type of deadline that I need for writing.  I have spent the last year of my life deep in a Creative Writing Program full of deadlines.  I have written essays, short stories, papers on books, book reviews, poems and even a full one-act play because I had a deadline to follow.  I earned my Master’s degree, but I found myself for nearly a whole month completely deadlineless.  I had nothing to motivate me to write, other than 4thewords. (More on that later).  Milwordy hopefully will fill the void that my Masters Program has left behind. It will give me deadlines, and is easily divided into parts, as any good goal is. 

I first heard about Milwordy over on the That Writing Place Discord server. I used to spend a lot of time there, but I fell out of it for a while, but now that I am quarantined like the rest of everybody, I want to get back into some kind of community, and Discord writing and reading channels are helping me with that as is the KittenAcademy Discord.  I hadn’t realized how much I needed a community to sort of cling to and how much I missed people. I often will bill myself as something of an introvert.  I feel like I’m awkward and uncomfortable in groups I often will find that I have a great deal of imposter syndrome. Even if I fit in with a group and I feel like I’m getting along well with them, there is a paranoid little voice somewhere in the back of my head that is telling me that I’m not worthy of their friendship. So, being on Discord at least takes away the physical awkwardness, and I can hang out and talk about books and writing, which are my two favorite things to talk about.

So, there I was on That Writing Place, just chatting up, talking about writing and Nanowrimo and writing goals, and someone said “come and join us by writing a million words in a year.”  I admit, it sounded scary, but then I did the math. That million words a year comes out to be about 3000 words a day.  I can do that.  Admittedly, I may have to move stuff around, but I already write at least a thousand words a day just on my morning journal which I use as a meditative practice.  It comes from The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, which I may talk about in another post.  So, every morning, I sit down for at least a half an hour (usually 5:30-6am) and write and write and just let my thoughts gush out of me.  I used to do this longhand in a paper Leuchtturm journal, but I write fast when I type. Also, if I type words into a computer, I can put them in 4thewords and beat the challenges there, and increase my streak. So, that also helped to motivate me, since I love playing games and gamifying anything, especially writing, is helpful to me.  

Now, my husband, who is wonderful and always has my best interests at heart, reminds me that I should definitely monitor myself and make sure that I’m doing this for the right reasons and not to be obsessive.  I tend to get obsessive and that is not a good thing. So, I am going to take this challenge casually and not get horribly upset and think that I am a horrible person if I don’t make it to 3000 words a day or even if I’m hugely far behind at the end of a month because really it’s small challenges just to get me writing that I need. I don’t need to write a million words.  

However... I want to write a million words, and that million words doesn’t have to be just fiction or a novel or some big project like Nanowrimo tends to be. Nanowrimo is 50,000 words, preferably on one novel in the month of November. Milwordy... everything counts. And everything means journal topics, blog posts (like this one) emails, editing, drafts, note taking, research. Everything that I do in the act of being a creative person and a writer counts towards the million words, and that is something that I can deal with. 

So, I guess challenge accepted. I’m going to do this.  I don’t know if I’ll succeed or not, but I plan at least writing as much as I can in a day and thinking about all of the things that I do to communicate in my world. 

Of course, now I have to figure out how to use my blogging software again, or find a good markup editor that I can use that will work with Blogger. That sounds like some research.... yay!  Or.. leave Blogger and transfer everything over to a WordPress or another blogging site... or take over my husbands...

6/2/18

Ego's Blog Challenge: Day One

Blog challenge: Introduce yourself as a writer.  Write a post introducing yourself as a writer! Talk about what you're working on/what you have worked on! Talk about how long you have been writing and what got you started/why you do it! And then talk about why you're doing this challenge! Bonus points if you link to other people who are doing the challenge! Drop your post in here when you're done!
Hi, I'm ToryLynn Writer.  Well, Writer is sort of a profession, but the reason that I use Writer as a moniker was that when I finally decided to be serious about writing on Second Life, they had the last name Writer available, and so about ten years ago, I became ToryLynn Writer. It kind of stuck. As a writer, I always figure that if I decide to have a pen name, it will just be Tory Lynn, or maybe Tory Lynn something, but I've been going by Tory or ToryLynn for over ten years now and it feels natural to do that. 
Ten years ago, however, was just when I discovered Second Life and the writing communities there. I had, and still have, been a writer for much longer than that.  In fact, I can't remember a time in my life when I wasn't telling stories of some sort.  I know that it's kind of a cliche for writers to say "Oh, I've been writing as long as I can remember", and then there's always the "I write because that's what I have to do to keep my sanity" trope.  I guess I'm just a tropish cliche because that's who I am; that's what I do. 
One of my earliest memories was telling my grandmother and having her transcribe a story about a black unicorn that didn't fit in with the other unicorns and was teased all the time. I probably was like four or five at the time, but I think it speaks volumes about my mental state at the time, and pretty much for the rest of my life.  I have always felt like I don't really "fit in" in places sometimes. I feel like there are things in my life, or people in my life who are just there because I happen to be taking up space around them, like they don't really like me.  I guess it's called imposter syndrome or something like that: the feeling that you don't really belong somewhere even though you've kind of earned it.  That is always how I have felt in the world.
Except in writing communities.  I am now part of a Discord Server full of writers who I really enjoy spending time with. I feel like I can talk to them, and I feel like I finally have some knowledge about something. In fact, it is often in writing communities that I have felt that I have found my place- just being around other writers. I also am part of two local writing groups in my hometown, which I enjoy being a part of.  My favorite time of year, though, is October through the beginning of December as my writing groups, and many of my friends, decide to focus on Nanowrimo.  
I started becoming involved with Nanowrimo around 2002. I have no idea how I got involved, who led me to this place, but since 2002, Nanowrimo has been my in to find my place with other writers.  Every year I have attempted a novel. About eight of those 16 years, I have successful completed the challenge of writing 50,000 words.  I wouldn't say that I have written a complete novel for any of them, and most of them are unedited drabble that will probably never see much outside of my hard drive Don't get me wrong, there are good bits, but there are also like a billion typos that I would have to go through and fix, and since most of the stories aren't that great, or just stuttering narrative, I think they are best laid down and put to rest.
But through Nanowrimo I found a calling as someone who loves to write, but also someone who loves to support the writers around me. I'm a writing cheerleader. I love watching other people succeed, even when it makes me totally jealous! I guess that's why I became the Municipal Liaison for the Nanowrimo bunch in my city.  I love gathering people together to watch them be successful.  It's such a rush to watch people be happy at something they have created.
Now I have online writing friends, real life writing friends, and memories of writing friends past. I even made one of those writing friends my husband.  I guess I can say I'm a happy writer. And I found a group that is really amazing and who inspires me to keep writing every single day, which is kind of why I am doing this blog writing challenge. It really helps to have people to share your writing with, and that's what I hope to do.  it may be silly, or awful, or funny or just weird, but at least I know that there are people out there who care about me and my writing enough to read it once in a while. I guess I'm just proud to be a writer.
Oh, and if you're interested, here is a OneTab link to all of my friends who are doing the blog challenge with me this month.  I totally recommend checking them out. They are awesome people.  

10/27/13

Halloween Poem by Sabra McGovern

Mummies, ghouls, haunts and spirits-
They got nothing, compared to you.
You make my heart beat;
You make my knees weak;
You may my poor hands shake too!

When you climbed into my life I tried not to fight
This feeling of unexplainable dread
But now I can't stop
My eyes want to pop
And now I'm on top of my bed.

Please, I'll do anything, just go away
Stop crawling on top of my mat
I guess I will stay here
Shaking with fear,
All just because of a rat!


10/13/13

Sabra's Poetry

The character for my new novel, Witch, has started to write poetry... in my head.  And so I'm going to leave these here to just.. be.

Beauty
by Sabra McGovern

Beauty walks on glass
The careful steps to make it right
The painful process where we
straighten something curly
Curl something straight, 
Oil something dry, 
Use potions to try out
Prick and poke and pluck and paint
Just to feel
That things can make us perfect
Without realizing perfection
Is just the way we are
And beauty is attitude
Not skin.


Prayer
by Sabra McGovern

I pray that you give me strength
to not kill the moron who
sits in front of me in English; 
to overcome that feeling that
I get where my hand tightens,
and my fist curls, and my body
tenses as he guffaws at the
moron who has stuck an "I'm
gay" sign to the back of a friend
in front of him.

I pray that you give me bravery to
stand up in front of the class
and instead of assaulting this
pudgy faced moron in front of me
with hands
I can assault them with words; 
words that will shame him and blame him
for making the kid who sits in the corner
squirm with embarrassment
because he's too offended to say "Hey, I'm gay
and that shouldn't be an insult."

I pray that you give me peace
to take on the chorus of 
voices that cry out against my opinions
that say it is just a word
that say it is just a word that
we use in fun..."It just means happy....right?
Right, in the same way that  nigger just means 
black person and WOP is just an Italian guy.
A slur is a slur, sir, and words can hurt.

I pray that you give me the wisdom to show that
while a knife or a gun
can break my skin
a word is a weapon
that breaks the spirit
which can be even more deadly.

6/8/13

Poem: The Room I knew

I was walking in the dark
Barely moving, afraid to stub my toes
Or trip over furniture
I couldn't see.

I could not see around me
But focused on myself
And then a candle
Brought a beautiful light.

I could see-
But only in shadow-
Everything was broken
A world shattered beyond.

If I had tried to move
there- in the dark-
The blood would trail the room
Leaving a passage of despair.

But this light came
Casting shadows long and deep
Showing the way
Through the broken bloody path

I began to move
slowly, then with more speed
And as confidence was gained
The path was left behind.

Pushing past the problems,
Pushing past the pain,
Pushing past despair
Until I found your light.

5/26/13

5/26/12

The Artist's Way

Starting up the Artist's Way again. I plan on putting my responses here to the exercises, but still hand writing my Morning Pages, like a good girl.  At least this way I will have something to post in this blog.  I will put the more "personal" stuff in my morning pages, but if you want to come along, or join me, the program is called "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron and I'm re-doing the first book for like.. the third time, but I need to make this my own program.  It's a 12 week long program about finding your creativity and your spirituality.  It should be fun.

Anyway.. here goes nothing.  I also plan on keeping up my blog at Weighting in the Deep End, which will be about weight loss and food and diets and yummy stuff that I find that is healthy (and not so healthy).

Now that I have the summer off, I should start doing this daily. Maybe.  I can dedicate a couple hours (or less probably) of the day to myself.  And hey, maybe I'll have more actual creative writing to post here as well!

Love to all,

ToryLynn

5/6/12

Garbage


Garbage by ToryLynn

I moved in here months ago
But I couldn't bear to do this
Go through the old memories
Throwing you away.

It has taken me this long
To settle into acceptance
That my life has utterly changed
And I am rid of you.

I tuck away a few precious things
But in bulk, things must go away
And I have moved on
And so must the things I have accumulated.

The bag of stuffed animals,
The old clothes that no longer fit
The papers, the dust, the accountrement,
The meanings that no longer mean anything,

And here I sit,
In the middle of the mess
that you left behind.
Throwing away memories

To make new ones better.

12/13/11

Through the Screen

We use Skype. It's a comfort thing for us and sometimes we will talk into the night, or just sit and watch videos. Most of the time, we don't use the webcam, but sometimes we do, and we did, last night.  He laid down, and I laid down, and we talked, our heads sideways on our screens, matching eye for eye, lip for lip.  He reached out his hand as if to touch me, and I reached my hand is if to touch his, touching my screen, which was enlarged to full size so that he was nearly life size.  I sat like that, my hand on his, through the screen, wishing it could be our lips pressed together, our skin touching each other, when suddenly... I felt a give.

It wasn't anything that I could truly describe.  I remember wishing that I could touch him, and then there was a push and my hand slid forward, as if through the thin plastic barrier of my screen.  It almost felt a little bit like pushing through a really cold wall of butter. A lot of resistance, but once my fingers first went through, I knew that I could get through. There was no flash, no light, no sound of trumpets. Just a slight pop, and my hand was through the screen, and my fingers were met with warm, soft flesh. His eyes got big and his mouth formed a surprised O at this, but then he simply smiled, and tangled his fingers into mine, dragging them to his lips and kissing the tips of each finger.  My forearm gave a funny jolt and I could feel this though he was nearly three thousand miles away.  

I gave a tug, not separating our fingers, and there were two pops, one as my my hand returned to California, and one as his hand crossed over from New Jersey.  It was my turn to kiss fingertips and I suckled on one.  His smile widened and his eyes became dreamy and peaceful.  I tugged a little bit more, and his arm to the shoulder pulled through the screen.  I rewarded this with a kiss to his elbow and, though his face was obscured from me, I could hear a happy little noise escape him on the other side.  He pulled back against me, and, while keeping our hand still connected, contemplated me through the screen.

"Can you fit?" he asked.

I contemplated my wide hips and my large breasts and my expanse of shoulders and shook my head sadly.  "Can you?"

He pushed me back, our fingers still laced, and pressed his shoulder into the screen.  My monitor had always been pretty big. I liked to watch movies and it was the best thing for it, but his was small, just a tiny little netbook. He pressed his whole body forward and into the screen, up to his shoulder and stopped, releasing my hand and trailing his fingers up to my elbow to give a little squeeze.  I backed up and wrapped my fingers around his forearm (he was a little taller than me) and began to pull.  His scapula fit through, and the he pressed his head to his chest and I watched the top of his head crown through the screen, his face becoming distorted with the pressure.  I continued to pull and his arm wrapped around my waist as his head popped through and he looked a little bit dazed, but he was smiling, parts of him stuck through my screen. One arm in Jersey, the other in California, wrapped around my waist.  I kissed him, testing out the feel of lips on lips, and smiled when I found him warm and willing.  It only took a moment, and it was blissful, and then I was backing up again, pulling now with all of my might, as the other shoulder popped through and now his whole upper torso was in California.  Both hands grasped my waist, and I was afraid to let go of the physical connection, worried that if I did not anchor him here, he would slip back through the screen again.  So, with his hands on my waist, I began to push the monitor away from him, pulling through stomach, and back, wiggling the space around his hips, which stuck a bit and had to be forced, like a fat girl getting into years-old jeans, pushing flesh through the screen, pulling on the bits.  Once the hips were through, and he was laying on my keyboard, it was just a tug and a matter of slide as he his knees and feet popped through my screen, and he laid, face down, across my bed. 

I pulled him to a sitting position, still not wanting skin to release skin, and kissed him full and hard on the lips, even as we smiled around this sudden coupling.  He was here... and I was happy.  

I was worried that he would disappear if I let him go, that he would pop back to Jersey or just pop into non-existence, so many laws of physics and space and time had been broken.  He sat in front of me and he was here. His hands on my waist.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my whole body into him, and then slowly, incrementally, backed away, until my fingers were touching his and no other contact.  I took away one hand first, my left from his right, and then looked into his eyes and quickly, only for a fraction of a second, broke the contact between. He was still there.  I closed my eyes, and counted to three, not willing to believe in this good fortune, and when I opened them, he was still there.  I threw myself into his arms with a laugh, and his surprised, happy face met mine at lips and smile.  He was here.

We looked at the monitor, and the empty room on the other side, and laughed. He pressed his fingers against the plastic screen and there was a resistance there that was normal, the screen laid back. He couldn't get through it now, and my laptop laid there like a laptop does.

He asked "How am I going to get back?"

"Who cares?" I answered, and kissed him again.

We would worry about that in the morning.