the untimely severance of life’s cord between a mother and her child throws worlds into black holes it spins a screen of unseen pain the powerless want to turn back what’s done taints days and nights exhausts the brain, the body for you cannot change the fabric of what is already woven you can love and hold and trust the hands of others like a writer has no other option but to love and hold and trust the hands of others when life’s events cut the cord between him and his story before the words can breathe alone
Mina Witteman – author | editor | teacher of creative writing
Posts tagged “#amwriting”
There’s some Shakespeare in the novel I’m working on. I’ve mentioned it before. Hamlet, to be precise. He pops up in the more troubling scenes and every now and again the bard and his word play throw me off course and make me loose track of what I want with this story (well, not entirely, just a little). In any case, I needed a bit of guidance and I needed it quick – I have my crit buddies pounding on my door. What better solution to force a breakthrough than to meet up with one of the bard’s greatest interpreters, the playwright George Isherwood. We had a riveting conversation about death, which is a big thing in the story, and about life. Equally big in the story, I…
Tagged: #amwriting, Death, Guidance, Hamlet, Life, muse, Ophelia, Shakespeare
the cold room paints my feet blue a silent luminescence colors water in the softest greens a bird cries high and sharpens the morning glow wakens my brain i draft new lines the first in a sunday morning spree of words i carry myself back to the organ let waves wash over me darkness covers my characters casts light on my pen illuminates the pictures in my mind i watch the twinkling across the bay the muse drifts by provokes images visions too fevered to write i loose myself in the muse’s arms for a while and when i wake i find myself alone on a path to a predawn nowhere
Tagged: #amwriting, muse, Poem, road, Sunday Morning, Wave Organ
Not much brain space for anything else while doing the line edits for the second book in the Boreas series. Boreas en de duizend eilanden (Boreas and the Thousand Islands) is scheduled to come out mid-April and I am really excited about that. Working hard now to have the manuscript back on my editor’s desk by Monday morning. I’m good with deadlines, they spur me on and keep me away from procrastination. And my editor Marlous is the coolest in the world. I love shaping and polishing my books with her. Rereading the manuscript brings back many memories of good times on the water, too. Sailing, snorkeling, and in general just hanging out with people who also love the water. Like my super cool friend Kirsten…
A bike ride through the emptiness of Vondelpark on a stormy day A stiff breeze sweeping sleet and rain in my face The cold sting cooling my brain A sore burn reminding my hamstrings of a killer workout A stork gracefully stepping through the grass Spring blossom unperturbed by the night’s frost Being grounded by the heavenly needles of my acupuncturist and dear friend Sandra Light fooling the eye into believing the lucent snowdrop is white The fluffy tail of a dog waving defiant and high Eating a bar of Hands Off Double Dark chocolate because I got wet twice Having a drink with my pal Laura The prospect of introducing one-year-old Tommy to Chagall Working the line edits of my middle grade adventure novel The art on my desk Listening for the quietest sound (the…
My previous post – Dark Musings – turned out to be a tad unsettling for a few readers. Let me take the edge off: it’s about my protagonist. Not about me. Even if I have a penchant for the dark. I do will myself to skate very close to the memories of my time in the abyss that is so euphemistically named depression. I force that upon myself to make sure that the emotions in my new YA novel ring true to the reader. It’s a hard topic that I touch upon in this story and it needs to come from the heart. My heart. I can do that because, as a former hockey goalie, I know how to take a blow. When those memories and life throw me…
bad guys close in on her they crawl under her skin fill her mind with filth rob her soul of worth not one ray of sunshine is left to show herself how to stand and find the light that is hidden by night’s bleakest hour in that black while before the dawn their vile words tear at her heart break her force her to her knees and leave her with nothing but the cruelest spurning of her self with no choice but to capitulate to the dark
Tagged: #amwriting, 15 beats, Blake Snyder, dark, no sense of self, Poem, Protagonist, Save the Cat
Mina Witteman 