The lure of fascination 

Write to recover

Don’t underestimate the power of a few choice words from another.

Still the mind-frozen ice bar decline

Mountain conquest-The victory is in the scenic  songfest

Emotions sprayed in clouds of mist.

A place so far from  the abuse of the daily grit.

Fight to recover — remember hope strives in another day

Feed and nurture this seed-give it an opportunity-don’t let another life sit and decay.

Losing time — people fragmented in a hazy rhyme.

Distance double flips somersaults. Impressive only till the sun dims less radiantly  clocking off to snooze-lay down with others in benign.

Can only write when thoughts form a Congo – order, progress-the dance in this words come from a heart who usually expresses in mime.

Inflicted amoeba-exhaling indignant carbon monoxide. I despise seeking out for the one’s cued up at at destination  ‘one stop’,Integrity lost standing mid line.

Metamorphose into a grey lizard , eagal or indeed be reborn as the mighty phoenix.

Third degree  burns — death — ashes to ashes worth the pain to be reborn into the matrix.

The urge to sin imparts thoughts to defecate-all held sacred in the church of integrity.

Not enough to know the meaning-practice is what gives this value its credibility.

Walk the straight line — fight the inner hate crime.

Searching for a divine sign-reason dictates energy must endeavour with one’s moral  retuning — to refine. 

Speak up for the light that waivers-clinging on to its last breath

Inspired by an element with the capacity to cause devastation or provide a clear path leading to expulsion ending in

 relief.

One wish to formulate all the intelligence into an honest medium of communication

History teaches-not all understand the world on multiple levels of perception of another situation.

Courage to flush  the contents highlighting the spiral of organic destruction.

One day at a time — one moment to lie. Craving for the mythical Elysium.

Compulsive tics  create a house of pain-exhaling tension-contain the nuclear feteus-natures own opium.

Losing track of the words that stumble — imbibed drunks-hungover searching for  a quench of delirium.

Evade – This is the time when courage fails to conquer life’s illusive temptations — the bell tolls-the seekers contort to fits of tingling.

Invisible to the faithful patrons in full  stasis cycle. A burden

a cross —

communication interrupted by Manic pleas to bear Atlas boulder with herculean madness lingering.

Cross eyed staring at the lit up pyres, 

smell of human flesh disintegrate into a ritual released for those travelling the unknown path of death.

Reason can’t imprint enough ink — memories inclined to dementia bouts of forget.

Last nights shallow breathing ,shadows taunt — loom over until the inner eye seeks regret.

Promises made in a plea of  chaotic desperation

Only to be forgotten the day after  the congestion lifts —   arise the sleeping urge to  compete with this  peculiar fascination

 

 

 

 

Mr Willows takes over the willows

With my husband’s permission. I will let his words dominate this post. Not easy being Mr willows – just kidding. Slightly…..

No one said that life is easy, no one said that marriage or relationships are easy or perfect. 

It’s been hard for me to write about my feelings  on my blog lately,because of all the shenanigans going on in my life. It never stops, does it? 

There is a lot I want to say  before I pass over my blog to my other half. I talk and type  way to much for my liking.

We are all struggling and we are all working on our dreams. It’s easy to give up and I don’t know many people

-anyone -who has ever done this to show how much he respects and wants to know me and understand me .

I’m waffling. 

I will not hide that we have problems and we both fuck up.  I’m not proud of some of my actions or my behaviour. 

I do know that the man who is so different from me brings out the best in me and the worst. Mostly ther best. 

Usually, the men I’ve chosen  have brought out the worst in me. ( they got issues just like me.)

For the first time I can say I chose a good man and some guys have been proper knobheads to me.

I’m not making excuses for those men.

“You are wankers, no more making excuses for you. I hope you get what you deserve. I don’t know what you deserve. Karma is not something I have power over, or even wish to have. ” Daisy aka Natasha Bodley

 

I have a man who has shown me what is feels like to be loved,respected, cherished and who wants our happiness. 

Here is a man, who I get to call my husband.

I’m uber emotional. 

I didn’t know he was doing this. Our marriage has been crumbling  from the start tbh… (laughing, nervous laughter) 

I’m at a loss for words.

So this Mr Willows

 

Introduction

This is a rather difficult situation to talk about; my wife and I are at odds with each other, she suffers from a horrible illness call Anorexia, it is a controlling and manipulative entity. Anorexia has taken a lot from my wife and maybe even our marriage. Through researching this illness I have realised I will never know truly what my wife has to go through on a daily even hourly basis, So to truly understand what she suffers through I have decided to walk a mile in her shoes. I know that Anorexia is more than just restricting foods and liquids, but I aim to try to discover more. The last time I had anything to eat was two days ago (12th May 2017) and I will try to document both my physical and mental states through this journey of discovery. This may not be enough to save my marriage, but at least I will have a greater understanding.

15th May 2017

Weight: 89.7KG

10:15: It has been a struggle this morning, it is very hard not to eat when things are very automatic, the struggle with suppressing hunger takes a lot of energy and mental fortitude. My physical state is that my hands are shaking, and used caffeine as an appetite suppressant. This is my second day doing this and will try and document often when things change.

10:30: I have been aware that this illness is also about body fixation, I have been aware for some months that my inner legs chaff when I am warm; I am going to use this as a point of fixation because it genuinely makes me unhappy and uncomfortable.

11:00: Housework is both a blessing and a curse. The blessings are it takes up time so you get to switch off the brain for a while and you are doing something so it takes up part of your day. On the flip side I know it is taking up valuable energy and that is going to leave me very weak in the days to come. I know it is going to be hard to hide my non eating but Anorexia is a selfish and manipulative illness. The coffee I had over an hour ago has hit me like a truck, I feel jittery and my heart is racing. I will be doing a small shop for some bits, this is going to be very different because I am no longer free to just pick up an impulse buy, I feel a little anxious about going to be far but I feel I can handle it.

20:07: The household shopping was hard when it came to doing the food part, my stomach ached so bad. I managed to force myself through it. I guess this is something my wife has to often, it takes so much energy to get through all you want to do is hide away and sleep off the hunger. It fails in comparison to having to cook for my daughter, it was hard not to pick at the food or fall in to what I have always done (cook a little extra for myself. I just want to see this through because I need to understand what my wife goes through on a daily basis. The fuzziness in my head feels very strange; I will stop if I see it going too far.

22:28: I understand why she chooses to binge on bread and cheese, right now, it is looking very tempting just to grab some bread and cheese and just go mad. I hope that I get better night’s sleep tonight   

16th May

11:34: I feel very shaky today almost hyperactive. Finding it very difficult to focus on one task when you have so much running through your head. I can see why this feeling is attractive because you get a big buzz when you complete a task, even if it is something you do regularly. I can see in my face that bags have become to form under my eyes and have a yellow tinge, I look a bit more washed out and drawn. I dare not weigh myself because of both fear of seeing the numbers change. I can’t believe how hard it is to battle with something so simple as standing on something, what I can understand even more now than ever what those numbers represent. I promise myself that this cant continue to long.

17th May

9:30: Yesterday afternoon I had a large hyperactive spurt, I was walking round the house very giddy and wanting to spin people around, this lasted for about a half hour, during this I was running up lists of all the things I can do with the business, being a success at finding work, been a good partner and farther.

So to conclude what I have discovered doing this is this, Anorexia has a lot to do with control and hating parts of yourself both physically and mentally. It takes a lot of energy to get through the day and do simple things. Managing moods has been very difficult, riding high can be very addictive and the slumps take so much away from you. The stress on the body is frightening and I have lead a very active life. Sleeping is valuable if your body and mind can rest, this is because I have found when you are asleep you are not thinking, it breaks up the day and it conserves energy, plus I suspect that when someone is in full anorexic mode they don’t have to worry about eating. To think about food is a pain, caffeine helps supress appetite, gives your mind and body something to do and the caffeine and sugar gives you something to get through the day. Being around food can kick off a lot of anxiety because all you want to do is eat, and you feel disgusted and ashamed of these feelings. It feels like you are in a constant battle with parts of mind and body. I am unhappy with the way my legs chafe when I get warm, when you become uncomfortable with how you feel, you become very fixated on that area, you notice every time you move, get dressed and when you look at yourself. Weight gain and weight loss play a key feature because upon weighing myself for the last time I had lost 0.02kgs, with how much effort it has taken, I can see this been very devastating to sufferers because the results do not match the effort that is put in, this will lead to a big drop in confidence and mood. In a final note, I have a newfound respect for people who suffer from this illness because it is a minute by minute, second by second battle with what can only be described as fighting an intruder in your own mind. I know I will never know the true extent of the illness but I have a better understanding of how I can better support, listen and what actions I can take.   

MASSIVE RESPECT FOR YOU, WE DO HAVE A STRONG CONNECTION ,AND SOMETIMES WE NEED TO REMIND EACH OTHER.

 

okay……..

I’m off.

Dealing with life 😀

Sensibilise

Did I miss something?

I know people talk about having the blues, the Monday blues and motherhood blues but there is a day assigned to recognize,

Blue Monday!

Who came up with the concept to celebrate a day of woe?

My thoughts: people who want to capitalize on our misery. 

Pharmaceutical companies, people trying to sell us comfort kits or whatever.

I get the whole statistic thing, that it’s the third week in January and financially big organizations and businesses are feeling –  mainly pennies no freshly printed notes.

Can, I just put out it on here -that Monday has been the best day of the week for me, out of all the Monday’s in January.

Why?

I didn’t focus on my money situation, or if people liked me or if I was anxious. What made my Monday bluesy – Jazzy – full of a spectrum of emotions:

is seeing my Grandma.

Yes, she still has Dementia, she still is bedridden, in a care home but she is not on death’s bed, not in pain and she has been taken off palliative care.

I made her laugh – more than once- just being me!

I held her hand and I  felt a bit sad, nostalgic,  thinking I should do more.

Wondered about certain people I LOVE  who I only get to experience one dimensionally.  They are not here anymore.

Monday was blue and pink and yellow and it was a Fun day – it was ONE day of my life.

It wasn’t the saddest day of my life or the happiest.

I love the color Blue. Don’t dress it up and mark as a negative.

We are capable of feeling.

Yes, feeling and responding to others.

We are capable of making connections with others because we can feel and empathize.

What a gift!

Pain, feels like Niagara falls coming down on me. I love watching it. I’m in awe of its power. I don’t like feeling it. It does transform me and is a natural part of me.

Just like being happy is, angry, comical, loud, quiet, bossy, friendly, energetic, sloth-like.

I’m not into blue Monday.

When I feel the blues I listen to the blues.

This song (when it first came out) caused people around the world to commit suicide.

I find strength in this song. People have looked at me and thought ‘she must be deranged’ to find any beauty and comfort in this song,

I do.

I don’t feel driven to kill myself when I hear it.

I feel less alone. I feel like I’m not only one who has shit days.

Smurfs aren’t sad?  or is it the magic potion they drink that gets them all bouncy and energetic?

I don’t know.

I do know people place a lot of expectations on feeling a certain way because there is a day assigned to feeling shitty.

No, thank you, my moods are not controlled by the media and whoever else comes up with these ideas.

I deal with my emotions – every moment, every hour, every second.

I don’t get to leave to my mind.

If I’m feeling alright on a Monday -no one is going to tell me I should feel differently.

Just a thought on this cloudy  Wednesday.

Looking forward to Friday – not because it’s  the weekend. I never stop working!

I’m going to meet up with friends I haven’t seen for 8 years.

 silly poem alert.   

If you feeling the woo of the blues

Take a pint of milk from the cows that cheerfully moos.

Don’t despair – feelings change with random flair

Enjoy the sunshine in your heart, don’t hold up a wall that says beware.

Life is full of ups and downs, smiles and frowns

It’s okay to feel this way. No-ones escaping life with ‘ I faked it better’ crowns.

Remember when you feeling down – you are never alone 

Support is here when we are transparent and make ourselves fully shown.

Ha ha! Lame, I know. I don’t care.

One small rant:

This has been going around the social media websites.

From NHS Director to mental health inpatient in 10 days

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CLICK HERE TO READ HER PERSONAL JOURNEY

 

I’m so happy this person has found the strength to come out and fight against stigma, with the experience of being at the top of the hierarchy in dealing with mental health, and now,  having insight into how it feels to experience severe bad mental health.

By all means, I applaud this woman.

If the title caption had been ‘from  HOSPITAL CLEANER  to mental health inpatient  in 10 days’

what is the difference?

Who is more important?

Both make a significant contribution tothe U.K. health service, do they not ?

Just saying…….

Yoo hoo ?

*Apologies in advance- the picture is my muse – credit to Francesca woodman 

Rage incensed unfurled by the scent of the unsaged.

Wisest fool, I know. Marked myself with your own hands and let your faecal swimming champion attempt to have a  go

Let you paw my naked flesh – dirty – blue rinse.

Touch me up and make me think I wanted you for sex.

I don’t give a fuck!

Get out my of my head, black-mouthed dog.

I got my hands sullen – fresh paint can’t hide your  taint revolving around my mind.

I write with these hands cos I don’t know what else to do if I sit with my thoughts – what else will I find.

Paranoid thoughts. I was doing just fine.

Soul crooners lulling me into an artificial lullaby.

Black soul – desperate to pull the remainder of my smile -on the down line.

Graphic infatuation – little girls grow up. I put my hands in the air.

My new escapism became you – there is no edge about you- indeed your toxicity is your strongest flair.

On the border screaming – furry fury cloaks me.

You took advantage, you sick fucking spatial wasted amoebic basket case.

Slap you,  disgrace you.

Shame you.

You took advantage and to hell with you.

I suffer still because I let you have me.

No regrets?  fuck that – knowing you live is the cord around my neck.

Choke me, pollute the air -in my world. it’s not fair.

No, life ain’t fair.

Break. it. down.

Trace my heart – find a pulse – wearing my heart for all to show -has led to this current plumous demise.

Despise – I’m spitting mad.

You think you got me had?

Leave my mind – cyber sex or sext with the one with the most milkshakes accumulating in her breasts.

I back away -Every.Single. Day.

My greatest doubt is you.

My biggest mistake was believing you -believing in you.

I’m bored. I’m tired. I feel like you’ve drawn out the last pint of blood from my veins.

Silence  your kind.

Judge not those who seem a reflection of myself.

Your kind is everything that drags me into the knockers pit – I know about that mine.

I know the rules now.

Not worth it. Wasted.

Not worth recycling.

If I see you again count on a different primitive play out.

You ain’t no clever clogs  – your seduction techniques consist of stirring drunken lust.

You can’t even get your playmate up – he so broke – he to lame to even cough up and say I’m bust

See my belly button?  I ain’t your mommy – there ain’t no umbilical cord,

Snap out of this maced crowdy place.

Am I losing it because of a hillbilly with a familiar face?

Contravene – isophane

Get out of my mind.

Tickets for you – you need to pay hundreds in fines.

Here’s the unpolitical correct version – may your mind be haunted and possessed by the very wrong deeds you have done with your own venomous spew.

I hate you. I hate me. I hate that I let you get to me.

Immigrant? I’d rather be that than insignificant. who are you?

Who are you?

No metamorphosis fly buttering around.

Comparisons to what I have tossed away to one side.

If I end up in a grave with a tag on my toe.

Please, family, don’t own me. Call me Jane doe.

Such is the embarrassment for the one I almost gave up breathing – you so shallow – you so low,

then I realize you want to have that effect – crazy bastard. Your mind ain’t correct.

How can  I erase your dirty fingernails and unwashed face from my skin?

How could I let you touch me – lusted after you?    You dear, are not my sin.

Lost and a wandering always flock to the same ravine.

I’m not gonna drown in here -with you the last thought on  my mind

We all a bit crazy – you crazier than your previous generation of malignant space heads.

Fuck you. Fuck this – potions brewing. I’m on my way to Haiti to instill a dose of voodoo – you hoodoo – foo do – mush brain processed tin canned – factory made – reset the defaults – you haven’t got a clue.

You think you some Who?

Have I told you lately I have some news for you?

 

 

Her Vision of Light

The red army draws a collective breath , whistles it out  in a  howling gust of wind snarling.  She stands tall – her long  tresses raised to the heavens – A subtle message from Hells dwellers:  it was back to attack.

Every month,  they stalk her just as night follows day , full-mooned . Hairy palms and yellow slit eyes – she would rather die of an internal hemorrhage than be demeaned – they see the  blood trickling down her legs. Draw in closer –  metallic scented pack.

Pro-choice in an era where science can make the dead come to life – yet still she must bleed whether she carries life inside her or expels the botanist’s  seed.

Condemn her to a life in pro.  Micheal Jordan had space jam. A notorious – well-received flow. She blushes every time her breasts swells – nature twists in a  smile. Nipples points  straight at the mouths of the hungry -ready for their feed.

To be Anonymous in a WikiLeaks world. Memes, social media information convulsing out  statements of change:

 Did you know?

 Think about how brainwashed – your mind is!

She knows. she still rolls in her own shit.

Unfit for a carry one movie with Benny hill, and the league of justice.

Dead pool eyes.

She knows this world is too abrasive- her skin smooth, her passion unhinged – one straight jacket away from having the whole collection of brand unfit.

‘It’s a happening, baby ‘-throw back to Allan Kaprow.

Everybody is crazy. Everyone has issues.

Everyone stand and link arms at the toll bridge,

show solidarity for your fallen foes.

The ones who fell 20 feet from the building or overdosed on legal high drugs brought from some hoodie called  Jack Wills.

How to be seen and have  her privacy in a cyber bully surveillance world? Charity matters. Throw down your sticks – allow overgrowth to infect  the anti-stigma hedges trimmed neatly in a row .

She screams out in Shrill  – ears sharp enough to raise the dead.

How is it possible no one sees or hears of her ills.

Despicable matters in the eyes of the living dead.   An out or an in.

A place that stirs broth from her blood flow – waits until her insulin levels drop to an all time grave,

so shallow.

Sugar coated words nauseate her.   Her duty to be human and keep her heart on the ticker – inside she knows the hurricane won’t stop swaying the palm trees – until she is torn from her roots-   from below.

Mr Big has an acute perspective of not seeing she is drowning with every weapon she draws.

It doesn’t take a hostage negotiation expert to know that eventually, even the savviest terrorist can be worn down , to drop its   ammunition.

Stockholm!

Place of the cordial juiced up  pedophiles.

Intensive herbal essence  conditioning treatment is their only hope of showing her how to be  free.

A Jesus embellished slice of  toast to honor her first Butter valley communion.

She thinks she is free .

She knows it’s part of her syndrome.

 To admit her state of inferiority to herself  would mean she ‘s dubious about her declaimed existence.

Her mind is her prison. She has the padlock and the pin number. She sits up to 24 hours a day – punching in the password, unlocking the clunk of metal chains – on a loop .

An exercise in futile persistence.

The ending is found in her very beginnings – born out of blood, stained – crying – pulled out with forceps – white coats defined her form from the moment they beat her into breathy  life.

Smiling jokester, broad shoulders -fighting all corners of the globe- her last breath will be when she lets go,

stops giving .

In her state of   cocoon  – expose her true misery to the world – look at her in  her strife!

Don’t worry, folks – blood will flow – you will get your show.

Just know that she put up one hell of a fight

In order to finally see her vision of light.

 

Compromised title

Lazily, a  tigeress snores into her paws . If only retiring was as simple to rule her inner world.

Curled up in warmth after a stroll  into the big wide world,then  settle for a quinquennium pause.

Her heart beats.

Nationalists- not even  patriots  are exempt.

All want to play in their own chord, tighten the strings ,she keeps  it together, to satisfy their crucified minds.

In a state of constant – motionless movement.

If not an act of physicality -drill cumbersomely inside her cranium and you will see chemicals and synapses – making up fresh bricks and mortar, to fit in with the latest homemade yeast infused hootchie.

Glance away now, for fear of pitying an evocative attempt to get a rise from it.

Secret plots to charge this queen with treason.

Where will she live?

Her throne burnt to the ground to make way for a newly elected dopamine and serotonin scrupulous , democratic union.

Flags of self-belief – burned infringed – protecting her staked land  was all this monarch tried to take into hand.

Defamation – character assassination.

Cloaked – in darkness- rat scuttles past – no pause – it already knows this violated prisoner is barren.

Scars and welts – a confession is sought after by the cardinal living east of the castle manor.

Employed only to instill courage when the  most powerful empire seized a chance to escape into heritic souls howling in the wind.

Faith and Hope – not draft an erratic, purple, incensed  dogmatic pope .

Dire retribution -execute the one who claims  this state is her very birthright.

Clubbed to her knees –  she will crawl  not humbly- you shall hear her plea.

She  wants to make them a better nation.

It’s her biggest exclamation.

Out plotted by her very own court –  bribed by cheap whores-given away by the roughness of their hands, dressed up as expert courtesans,  who clearly have seen at least one day of sun.

Intoxicated by some amorphous potion.

Formalyhde doused  in cleaveaged lace dresses – it was  not her initial notion.

A scented air  of burning flesh

A greek tragedy indeed.

Scorned by her very  owns subjects . She may be longitiduely  dimintitive  but she refuses to be bullied into showing them that wanted emotion.

Defeatist attitude does not a fit queen make.

Words in  a precise order do not  prize a piece of   art,

so clearly a fake.

Forgiveness is her only weapon. She won’t see her country  be overrun by zealous creachers.

It would appear her subjects wish to prove that she is illiterate.

Tortured, holding her breath under water to procure a confession – let her reiterate.

The crown is made to fit one head – It is symbolic and vaporizes with her when she  exhales all energy and   is varnished as  dead.

Look how you’ve turned on one another – in the pursuit of power. It is  a notorious illusion.

To master control over all subjects requires more than an iron-clad fist and an outraged dalliance to declare outright confusion.

Compassion,

nurture,

recognition and honor are what she   offers,

accept these as the wealthiest of gifts.

Only a fool would scream,

‘Off with her head‘ -a face full of sour lemons and a lust to frazzle the last tether.

The Noblest  of causes – so much bloodshed – look into her bloody, vein threaded eyes.

She hasn’t slept for weeks in her fight, to appease  all those in famine, hungry and underfed.

She  needs no  steering Regent to aid her  in her duty.

All she demands is loyalty and valor.

With you all at her side ready to conquer life’s copious battles,

we shall not go down .

your  hearts will not know the true grief  inflicted made up of another community of arrows.

we shall not waiver.

Trust in your queen to walk as a stout  cripple ,duty bound to protect and hold it all together.

wittingly written

Tick Tock!  Still awaiting the results of my  first TMA.

No time to rest and already onto the next one. I am the kind of writer who gets an idea and then I just start writing – I like to get the story out before going over it and picking it to pieces, re-plotting it , the dreaded cutting stages.

I’m so frustrated – My next assignment is to  write a 2000 word stand-alone  piece of fiction. Not so hard right?

Well, unless you have my brain.

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Got to get this out.

In my head, I have come up with a story ( shit or bad) – I don’t  know but it wants to write itself and indeed it already has.

The problem being I’ve written over 1000 words already- just  putting together the bare bones of the story and I still have yet to get into the internal /external conflict of the characters. Plot it just right etc.

I know if I carry on with this narrative – it could end up  with maybe 3500 words!

My brain hurts. Why don’t I just abandon a complicated, plotted story and find another to write about?

That would mean giving up and letting go.

I do not let go or give up  easily- be it my work, my passion, people.

Yes, I am stubborn.

Does anyone else who writes fiction have this problem?  I (bear in my mind I am learning to write for novels ) and   in this assignment and  I have to write a stand alone piece  of 2ooo words)

I know. I know.

There is more than just me (the only student) studying and needing my “precious” story to be marked.

I DON’T CARE!

I do. Just not right now. 🙂

I also have my other bigger script  to worry about and my brain is flipping from one to the other. Deadlines!

Focus.

So why am I so wanting to tell this particular story?

I want to challenge myself – create a more complex plot.

Go way out of my comfort zone.  So far, successfully achieving this to my detriment.

Then, I have to share on a forum , with other writers and comment on their work and wait for them to comment on mine. Lovely.

I am a generous person. The first person to offer to read someone’s work but not  everyone is the same.

It would make for a boring world, I agree.

Nevertheless, it is still frustrating.

So, here is the premise in a small nutshell

 Betty is  married to a kind and loving husband who has supported her  her throughout their relationship/marriage,she   has DID ( Dissociative identity disorder)and has  so far responded well to a new radical  form of therapy to treat her disorder. Or has she?

It would appear that she has come to some kind of inner peace with her alternates through engaging with said  therapy. She bumps into the past, an ex from college or uni- something doesn’t feel right but she is drawn to him.

 Her symptoms start coming back an, example, losing track of time.

One   remainging, undiscovered alternates has managed to dupe her. Back in college her old flame -lets call him -Steve-  fell in love with one of her alternatives- the  seductive, provocative – Lola -everything Betty  isn’t.

It didn’t end well. Lola couldn’t compete with Betty and all the other emotions/alternates that were playing out in her mind and her life at that time and Steve left her.

Betty  doesn’t know about this other alternate or their true history together.  Steve and Lola  come up with a cunning ,deadly  plan  to be together. Lola is determined to be the dominate personality (she won’t compromise her wants) and she will do everything in her power to be able to be with her past lover – even if it means making Betty believe that her husband, Roger  is the one cheating on her!  Expect a bloody ending but whose blood?

Okay. Sounds really simple 😉 but there is so much information I have in my head. Ideas of how Betty gets manipulated by her ex-lover and Lola.

Do I start in Media res?  -bearing in mind,this the first time I have written it down and  it does need polishing.  Excuse the cliches.

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BANG! –the sound  synchronized with their clock chiming, a ghastly wedding present, and the longest announcement to confirm it was 6 pm. A   demonized scream left Betty’s mouth – as blood splatters stained her face to complement the abstract disarray of Betty’s current surroundings.  The remnants of a wistful, discarded soul arrested Betty’s own eyes for what seemed a lifetime, before the body crumpled to heap on the bedroom living carpet–   someone so strange yet at the same time familiar. A   glint of metal. Another thud. This defined how far Betty had veered this time.

“Betty, Betty come to me”, a calm familiar voice reached the ear hairs of Betty- clearly orienting her to look behind her. Every bone in her body seized up.

Do I start with a more startling- more fact-based opening:  like this:

They say that we should always leave our past well alone. If only I had done so. If only I could have foreseen the danger, it would bring me. How could I? I am merely human- subject to my environment, emotions and experiences.

Winter 2016

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It’s all there in my head and some of it on my word doc.  but it will be more that 2000 words.

I need help.

 In my commentary (which is something I have to do for all my assignments is  to reflect on many factors – one being my thoughts and challenges writing in the Script genre  versus the fiction genre. There is a lot more I can reflect about.

 Plot? – I am going to have loads to say about overcoming that challenge. haha .   I’ve lost it. 😀

  • Dialogue

  • POV

  • Characters

  • Opens /endings – middles

The list goes on and on.

I’m feeling that pressure of a challenge coming on.

I could just write some uncomplicated story to attempt to tick boxes but how will I ever develop as a writer if I play it safe?

Or am I being too ambitious?

Do I carry on with this story? using what I learn in the MA study guide materials and my own independent research ,to aid me, to tell this story to the  s.t.i.p.u.l.a.t.e.d.length ?

Or, am I  setting myself up for failure?

Am I being too cocky?

Too assertive?

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I am an amazing writer .

I do believe in having the right in  being able to express myself creatively and writing is one way I get to do that. I read a cool article this morning- link here

That’s just my personal take, but more generally I feel like the arts are such an important part of how we understand ourselves, how we laugh at ourselves, how we make sense of reality. ‘Listening to a record that you love, reading a novel that you love – it connects you more forcibly into life. For your mental health, it’s extremely important that people are accessing that part of themselves, tuning into other people’s creative expression, expressing themselves.’

Comments appreciated. Thanks for reading.

MINI LIFE UPDATE

I’m slowly moving our company  online. Here is  a link to my online shop -eek!

Don’t worry I don’t expect you to buy anything. But feel free to follow me on instagram and Facebook – (slightly cheeky but sadly writing doesn ‘t pay the bills 😦 )

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LOOK AT MY SHAMAZING GRAPHIC DESIGN SKILLS 😀 HA HA -sarcasm alert!

 I haven’t even finished 3/4 of  the whole online shenanigans yet.

Tomorrow will be spent all day working on developing  our business.

My daughter is doing so well – check out all her certificates that she has received -all in one semester/ term.  So proud.

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Will be catching up with all my fave blogs in between  of all of this. I love all you all!

Daisy

xoxo