A poet’s ramblings & a writer’s pipe-dreams; this is what my world is made of.
like the slippery slope of the mind,
that falls upon a schismatic blade of thought
when it should have been laundered,
Stories come to us, because they need to be told. You’ve come back to yours, because you can’t leave it untold. Tell it. Tell it with all the love, and grace, and power, and form you have. Let that be enough for now.
This step is the most important one. We abandon or give up on our stories for a whole set of complicated reasons that usually have very little to do with the story itself, and so much to do with ourselves.
I can’t be the only who is haunted by the stories I don’t finish.
…ng? Or avoid it? It’s easy to drop a project. You can make a show of giving up, or just slink away. If you put enough space between you and your story, and the thing that once set your bones on fire will sink heavy into the silt.
One last thing. In case you need it, you have my permission to protect your creative time. Go ahead and be selfish. It’s ten minutes, man. Maybe less. You’re allowed to own that and use it to stoke your creative fire.
Just write your story.
Only skipping it doesn’t feel good. Because writing is your sanctuary. It’s the one thing you do for yourself, maybe. It’s your dream.
Of course, with men having all the fun and none of the responsibility, it's going to keep costing women their rights to simply say, no thank you.
Twelve years later, those words still bother me. Why isn't saying "no" enough? Why do women need long-winded explanations to prove to a man that no means no?