Level 32 Ranger

This might be the weirdest birthday I've ever had. There are things that have happened over the years that, written down, seem like the fiction I work so hard to create. But this is the year that things are truly strange. There is not much that I can say about it, here. There are too many words unsaid.

I have left abusive relationships, I have clawed my way back to the surface. I have looked into a night sky that seemed endless and unforgiving, searching for a single star.

I have written and I have not written, I have left too many things unfinished. I have lost companions and lovers and friends and a home. I have left a place that never suited me and retreated to take asylum in a place where it rains, even storms, and where fireflies hang in the dim summer nights.

I am feeling my way back into my own skin. The damage is legendary. But I can still tread water.

I do not know where I am going, or how I will manage to move on.  I do not know, anymore, what I want from life, other than to put one word in front of another, one foot in front of the other, and go on. I want to write down the books in my head, not because I feel that the stories should be free of me, but because I want there to be more to life than dead pages cluttering up my brain.

When you come here to see an empty page, celebrate for me. Because when I have written every word down in ink like blood, when I have emptied both barrels at the page, hit my target, and moved on? I will be free.

I want to persist like Octavia. I want to breathe again.

I want to live.

All the Cool Kids

We interrupt this blog's suspicious silence for some important news!

I'm following in the footsteps of some of my favorite artists and writers to bring you exclusive content and prizes via Patreon. If you're interested in supporting my work in a more direct manner, please check it out. And if you have any suggestions, drop me a line. I like to hear from you .

This blog, where I post unwieldy word-children who are not professionally polished, will always be free content. My books will always be available via Amazon if you're interested. So if you are not willing or are unable to support the Patreon, do not fret. I have not disappeared. I am building. And plenty more is coming in the (hopefully) near future.

Thank you for always supporting me in my crusades.

Thirsty Work

A bit of good news for the crickets and dust around here (and my remaining readers--hello!):

First off, a lovely chunk of poetry manuscript has been accepted for Chromatopia's upcoming collection. That will be published in 2013, but it's worth the wait. I promise. You can read about the other poets being featured as well, here!

Second, although I have a rather greater number of grey hairs than before beginning the project, the Tiny Book of Tales is finally formatted for the Kindle, and due to my outlandish ideas about e-book prices vs print prices, it's less than half the price of the print version. The Kindle version will be available within the next few days, if you are interested!

Thank you to everyone who has already supported me, and to anyone considering it in the future.

Holy stars. We are in the future and it is amazing.

precocious

Some claim April rain
brings the blossoms of May, but
trees here are hasty.


This is the opening stanza of this month's format challenge over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. We're writing a renga together, and I'm so excited to read the finished result.

Hello, world.

The day has finally arrived, sailors and sirens. My dinky little chapbook, hand-illustrated and Xeroxed in the first edition, has turned into a glossy china dish encrusted with the coral of the intervening years.

Which is just a silly way of saying, hey. The Tiny Book of Tales, second edition, is available for you to purchase, should you so desire. It's 20 poems, dredged from my many years of struggling to find the right words for everything. They're rough-edged, and I didn't want to polish too hard for fear I'd lose what they meant to me, every grey day, every long year until now. They're different, but, I think, still true.

If you are looking for a bit of history and context, you can find the Tiny Book of Tales on Amazon, or grab a copy from Lulu. It's a pleasure and a privilege to turn the page from that chapter to this one, with you.

Thank you.

Grace

Interview with a Pirate

Much to my surprise, Phillip Thrift over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads slotted me for an interview this week.  It's been posted, so if you care to peek at my underpinnings for a bit...here you go.

Your brightly blushing Captain,
Grace

Bookkeeping

Since all the stuff on here is already "published", it only made sense to send some of it over to Goodreads.  I won't get to be listed there as an author until I, you know, publish something, but I am pleased to be a Goodreads Librarian.  It's my only claim to the glorious honors in which my sister and the rest of the librarian mafia bask daily.

So, if you are not sick of all the self-promotion yet?  Please head on over and give my ugly little word-children some love.

Your rushed and restless Captain,
Grace

On Tour

In or around the SF Bay Area?  Want to hear me read a story that hasn't been published on the blog?

The Revenge will be dropping anchor at Red Rock Coffee for their Monday night open mic.  I'll read something new and hang around for a while to pass out some of my awesome new business cards.  If I get a decent response I'll make this a regular occasion, even though I may or may not prefer Mountain View's other coffee shop.

You'll find me easily!  Because I'll be the terrified-looking redhead in bright red lipstick and pirate stripes.

Get directions here if you need to: http://g.co/maps/t297
Or let me know via Twitter or Facebook that I might see you there!

Your painted and panicking captain,
Grace

Level 28 Ranger

"Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit."*

This is the desk I am leaving unattended today:

O inspiration!

Motivational postcard.

Love and the Muse are very, very good friends.

See also: "Be true...stand. All the rest is darkness", "Always say Yes", and "Omit needless words".

I promise you, my desk remains unattended solely because of this.

"...And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea."*

Or birthday cake, as the case may be.



*Quotations, of course, from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T.S. Eliot, not belonging to me in any way, shape or form.