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Check out the open submission feature here.
Check out our latest submission here.
NOW ON AMAZON FOR KINDLE!
Made for Me, a Sci-fi romance novella by Pamela Schloesser Canepa, takes the awkward first date story to the extreme! What happens when an indecisive girl uses a 100% guaranteed website to find the man of her dreams? How can they truly guarantee happiness for Abrielle, who can’t even decide what she wants for dinner? Meet Sampson, open-minded, spontaneous, and financially stable. All of the elements seem to come together for a perfect match. Yet, it becomes apparent there’s been a website glitch! Sampson is even more unique than Abrielle could ever guess. For this to work, Abrielle must accept the truth behind Sampson’s perfect skin, buff physique, and welcoming smile.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Pamela Schloesser Canepa lives in the Southeast with her small family and her dog. She has been writing since childhood, and has just started publishing recently. She considers herself an avid sci-fi movie fan and loves authors such as Stephen King, James Patterson, Phillip K. Dick, Suzanne Collins, and Laurie Notaro, among others. Pamela’s genres include science fiction, realistic fiction, and poetry of all types. Made for Me is Pamela’s first published work of fiction. A sequel is in the works, and Pamela is working on editing a full length time travel novel for publication in e-book and print, hopefully in the next year!
PAMELA HAS DONATED MONEY TO SUPPORT KURT’S FILM
PLEASE SUPPORT PAMELA
If the clouds could come & give me a ride
I would sit on them & sway away in delight
And ask them to take me in their cozy coat
Covering me all in the softness galore
Ask them to take me in the world up away
High up in the clouds where they say fairies stay.
As I reach there, I will learn a few skills to tap & whoosh & fulfill some wish
Wishes of all those who are in need.
Those wishes of cute eyes of kids crying for help.
The ones who are lost in war, with no one to help.
Those unanswered prayers of people with disease, the ones suffering & asking for relief.
Those hard to be fulfilled wishes & prayers with which are linked the needy’s care.
Wishes of such kind seems impossible in today’s time. There is so much going around in those with dirty minds,
Those who cause chaos & all the mess.
& are killing ruthlessly & causing much stress
I may sound kiddish to dream of fairyland & bring glitters of kindness with me in my hand
However it may sound, but I don’t mind
As long as I wish to bring some good in Mankind.
Often I wonder where does the “kind” go from man.
Maybe I’m thinking too much, what can I do, I’m a woman.
I was born to think,
That’s what many say.
Woman think a lot
They are made that way, and I think again, “Thank God that I think.”
It’s my thinking that makes me ponder, to be a better being.
Everyday I think & try to reach my soul.
today my thinking wants to take a tour
In the world of clouds, where they say Angels live.
With a hope to bring in my palm, some glitters of bliss
So I have few powers to whoosh away the pain
That causes chaos often unexplained.
Hey what’s up?!
We’re going to be promoting our first Reward Package on Friday. If you would like to help me help you then please consider donating to help me make a movie and I will help you promote your book or other project. Huh?
So… I’m not going to be posting much for the next few months so please submit your work to one of the Relating to Humans features so I can post it to the blog in stead of my rambles and blather.
Can ya dig?
Anyway, here is some music that will make your toes tap and ears wiggle.
I guarantee it.
AND WILL YOU…
In this episode…
– Tupac as Kurt’s life coach
– Will Ferrell as Ricky Bobby as Kurt’s hand coach
– Our initial “Website Review”
– A special thanks to all recent contributors to the Relating to Humans feature
– Animals not Trump
– And other joyous and celebratory things…
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS
In addition to trying to shake out as many donation dollars as possible from you…
Some of these promotional “devices” may definitely be employed; one of them may definitely not be.
I guess we’ll find out in the next episode – Saturday… ish.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?
…and the Sailor ducked.
Ba dum bump!
Okay, just a couple of quick announcements while I’ve got your attention.
I am overwhelmed with happiness and joy now that it is Spring, and because of all the wonderful submissions we’ve received to the Relating to Humans Women’s Issues feature in celebration of Women’s History Month. We still have a week or so to go for #WHM2016 and I am still posting to the blog all submissions received to the feature.
If you’re not sure what all this Relating to Humans stuff is all about. I attempt to explain it all here.
All RTH submissions received prior to 2016 have been moved to the RTH Archives. There is a lot of compelling reading to be found there so check it out if you have a chance.
Aurelius, Zeno, and I are vibing to some Nine Inch Nails Ghost I-IV right now, in case you were wondering.
Anyway… With just about all RTH past submissions now archived, that means there is a lot of white space for you to post your work.
We all know that the early bird gets the best spot where all the book worms like to hang out, if you know what I mean… So submit early and submit often, but only submit one article or piece at a time per feature. If you want to submit something new to a feature that you already have something submitted to, let me know and I’ll archive the old so you can share with us the new.
From now through the summer months, I plan/hope to be heavily involved with the raising of funds and then the production of my short film LEAVE out in Los Angeles. Fingers crossed.
Consequently, I am not going to have as much time to spend writing stuff here for you to read, hence the awkward necessity of this awkwardness. Consequently, I am going to be looking to your submissions to the various RTH features to pull from and post to the blog. Consequently, I am going to need you all to post a lot of compelling and awareness-raising stuff up there for me to pull from. Consequently, I am going to be adding even more features for you to submit your work to.
Can you dig it?
I’m thinking new features such as: “Health Issues,” (notice how I put that comma before the closing quotes? strange how we do it that way here in ‘Merica (prounounced: mur/e/ka) when our good friends across The Pond would put them outside the closing quotes… isn’t life wonderful with all its little peculiarities like that? though, in actuality, since I’ve now added this interesting – at least to me – parenthetical aside, I guess the comma really should go after the closing parenthesis… oh well. my blog my (broken) rules.), “Criminal Justice Issues,” and although I’m a bit hesitant about this one because I’m not totally convinced it fits comfortably with the other features but we’ll see how it goes… “Relationship Issues.”
I am going to ask/require that all human-related creative submissions, such as poetry as the primary example, be submitted only to its designated creative artsy-type feature. In other words, please submit your poems, photography, flash fiction, etc. only to its specific feature. In other words, all poems submitted to the “Women’s Issues” feature will be moved to the “Poetry” feature. To me it will be more interesting to read poetry or any other pieces submitted to the artsy-fartsy type features that cover many diverse, human-related topics in one feature. In other words, I hope I didn’t confuse you as much as I just confused myself.
April is “Sexual Assault Awareness Month” so, unfortunately, there may be opportunities to speak to that very unfortunate and sadly big issue.
Let’s start identifying “Trigger Warnings” where applicable, please. I think for a place like this those are a crucial necessity.
So… that’s about it. Please start submitting away and I will move all the submissions that move me to the blog so they can move all of us into a broader, more compassionate understanding of all that’s going on in and all around this pretty yet petulant planet of ours that we all can and do and must relate to because like it or not we are all humans and we are ultimately all related.
One last thing!
Have you considered donating a buck* or two to help me get my short film off the ground? If you do, I will help you promote your book, your project, or a cause your most passionate about. You can learn how here.
And if you’re a Newsletter Love subscriber, I’ll promote your work to our dedicated, and growing, newsletter group, as well.
Friends don’t let friends drive drunk, vote for Trump… or stumble headfirst into bars.
For pain will surely ensue if they do.
DESPITE IT ALL, BECAUSE OF IT ALL
I grew up in a large family, the youngest girl and second youngest of six children, with two sisters and three brothers. Despite that, or perhaps because of that, I have always wanted to have a large family myself. My husband on the other hand, grew up with just one sister, so he was more skeptical of the prospect of a large family. Of course a large family today is probably only equivalent to half the size of a large family back then.
My ultimate goal was to have my children before the age of 30, so I could be a young mother and grandmother. After three-and-a-half years of marriage, I stopped using birth control so we could start a family. It didn’t take long for me to get pregnant, but it took determination and perseverance throughout nine pregnancies within the next ten years to successfully create our family.
I decided to write a book about my efforts to have children for many reasons; the most important one being that it was very therapeutic for me to jot down details of each of my pregnancies, successful or not, to keep them all sorted in my mind. Reading about them now, each one borne complete through words becoming sentences, and sentences becoming paragraphs and pages, is the most therapeutic of all. Of course it is easier to move on when things have ended on a positive note, and my family is complete.
My advice to others is simple:
Talk about your fears, disappointments and struggles to anyone who will listen. This can be a professional councilor or a friend or family member. On the flip side, listen to anyone that is trying to lean on you for support throughout their struggles. I remember a co-worker thanking me for “breaking the ice” as she called it, upon my return to work after a stillbirth. My co-workers were all very concerning and caring, but no one knew what to say or how to act, so when I started the conversation they were very grateful. It is always better to acknowledge someone’s pain rather than ignore or avoid it.
Do not wait too long to start your family. As my story shows you, things do not always go as planned. If you are in a healthy, financially stable relationship, and both of you want to have children, don’t procrastinate. That’s why humans have a nine-month gestation; it gives you time to get used to the idea of a baby in the family.
Work hard for what you believe in and want out of life. Do not let others tell you that you cannot do something that you believe you can. Do not believe that you cannot do something until you have tried your best to do it.
Do not take anything you have for granted, especially your health, but also your intelligence, athletic abilities, and anything else that makes you different from others.
Last, but not least, when you are feeling down, take a moment to realize that there is always someone worse off than you in any given situation. Think of the good and positive things in your life, (I do not mean materialistic things) and be sure to surround yourself with positive people that really care about you. Delete the negative things and people from your life. Make a written list of these things, referring to it often and adding to the list as you work through your struggles.
I can write this story now with humor, candor, wisdom and hindsight, all things I did not have much of when I was first starting out on my path to motherhood. Hopefully, this will provide inspiration and comfort to others that have or are going through the frustration and heartbreak of losing a child during pregnancy.
I CAN’T PICTURE YOU WITH A KID
“I can’t picture you with a kid.”
“Neither can I.”
I’m too spontaneous. My passion for writing and journalism was constantly competing with my passion for buffalo wings, rum and Steve Madden; there is no room for a kid in the newsroom or at the bar during happy hour and being six months pregnant squeezing those ridiculous swollen dogs into new candy apple reds is just negligent- everyone knows five inch heels can’t handle that kind of stress. Yet, there we were in the bathroom waiting for a pee stick who decided to use the entire two minutes to make up its mind. I can’t do this. I’m too young. There are so many places I want to travel to. If I get a great deal on Groupon I want to be able to just book it! To call in to work sick and live my life! You can’t do that with a baby there’s planning. Clearly not enough in this situation but that’s beyond the point. The point is… Do babies even get passports? I mean how often would you have to update that photo? I don’t have time for that. Who hikes Yosemite with a papoose? Seriously. I want to wake up in the morning and see a sting ray under my hut in Bora Bora not a diaper genie. And now I’m positive that’s not going to happen.
“Have you thought of your options.”
Sure, I had. But what were they? Have a baby. Kick out Jimmy Choo to make room for Osh Kosh. Drop out of school to PlaySkool. Put down the pen to set up one to play in.
Or don’t. Adoption is an option. Earn my tiger stripes just to give my cub to someone with less of a pride.
Or don’t. To just pretend it never happened. I mean, Forever21 doesn’t do maternity.
“…and that sound is your little girl’s heartbeat.”
They said it was okay to cry but I couldn’t. You don’t pre-order MAC’s new midnight sensation just to make it run. And I would make sure my daughter would know that, or would I? Maybe some happy couple somewhere far away like Arkansas wouldn’t let her wear make-up until 16 or she would be given to some psycho pageant people in Pasadena who would have her glitzed out at six months. I couldn’t let that happen to my baby. My baby. But was I her momma? Constantly teetering on this tottering life was no place for a kid. So I had to stop being one.
“I’m having a girl.”
The last 18 weeks of my life had now planned at least the next 18 years of it. She would be mine. She would stalk shoe sales with me. She would be my editor. At the end of the day, it only matters what she has to say. She would be just like me.
“I don’t hear anything.”
She was just like me. Spontaneous as all hell. It’s okay to cry they said but I couldn’t. I don’t remember it happening like this on the tv shows or in the movies. The chapter in the health books didn’t elaborate on this. The doctor didn’t break it down like my body did. There was no what to expect when you stop expecting. there’s nothing on un-nesting. one minute im sitting there answering phones and making appointments at my desk. the second minute im up and bolting down the hall passing the click-clacking Manolo Blahniks, my hush puppies stay silent towards the little girls room, the rest room. where this little girl is not resting but not awake. a little girl controlling her own fate. while i was kicking around parenthood, she decided to never kick. i close my mouth and scream. and the tears who have been planning this for so long finally make their escape and i don’t even try to stop them. they grab hold of the covergirl clump crusher and run.
Please submit your creative expressions that bring awareness to women and gender issues to the Relating to Humans Women’s Issues feature. All submissions will be profiled on the blog throughout Women’s History Month.
WOMEN ISSUES…OR ISSUES THAT SURROUNDS A WOMAN
FROM THE WOMEN’S ISSUES ARCHIVE
Every morning , almost all dailies have a report on women abuse. Mostly domestic violence , dowry issues and early marriage. Each day , I read the story remains same but victims change. The culprit is seldom caught and rarely punished.
I feel that laws are useless when the enforcement is zero, in some instances below zero , yes going into negative area. The enforcers start abusing and humiliating the victim , they sort of make it appear , that she “asked for it”.
World has two sharp division, people who are on the “Man’s side” , this group also has women and the other “Woman rights ” fighters, they are vocal but can not always win, because women issue is a social issue.
If dowry is a bad practice, why do in-laws ask for it ? If beating up women is wrong, why don’t family members interfere ..it seems that society as a whole wants to support the strong and beat up the weak..those women who are strong economically or otherwise , they are seldom abused , but those who are vulnerable due to child marriage or poor back ground..they are tortured and killed..and this cycle is continuous.. Parents feel that marrying off a daughter is important to just move that burden from one’s shoulder to another, they don’t mind if she gets killed..I know that is a harsh way of putting it..but look at the way young girls at 11 are becoming mother and then their kids are getting killed or they are dumped for next victim…
All submissions to the Relating to Humans Women’s Issues feature will be profiled on the blog all throughout Women’s History Month. Please share your creative expressions discussing Women’s Issues by submitting them here.
HEY WHAT ABOUT ME?!
Exploring the Mind of a Man Who Didn’t Give Me His Card
FROM THE WOMEN’S ISSUES ARCHIVE
I recently went to a conference with my fiancé – one of those social affairs where everyone is given a name tag and you’re expected to mix and mingle with the crowd. An awkward moment with a stranger got me thinking…
For a brief couple of minutes during the conference coffee break I was left alone. Next to me, I observed a quiet, bashful middle-aged man fumbling through his conference materials and we caught each other’s eye for a moment. I smiled, being polite. He returned the smile and extended his hand to introduce himself.
We went through the usual ice-breaking questions of what we do, why we were there. The banter was friendly and a connection was made. Moments later my fiancé rejoined me. Seeing that I had made a new acquaintance, I introduced him to Mr Bashful and they went on to talk about themselves, dutifully going through similar introductory questions. Mr Bashful at one point reached out for his business cards and gave one to my fiancé, then proceeded to store his business cards back into this pocket.
I was taken aback and thought to myself, “Wait, what about me?!“
So I said to Mr Bashful, teasingly, to remind him of the etiquette faux pas he just committed, “Oh, how come I don’t get a card?“
Alarmed at his own mistake, he immediately made a comeback. “Oh I am so very sorry!“ quickly fumbled through his pockets to get his stack of business cards, and embarrassingly passed one to me with the usual two hands as a gesture of respect.
It was a small incident, but one which demonstrated how we each may have prejudices against certain people. These prejudices are mostly hidden, but occasionally let themselves out the bag through accidental gestures.
I don’t know why Mr Bashful didn’t give me a card and practically ignored me the moment my fiancé stepped in. It could have been a myriad of reasons: his nervousness in front of women, his thoughts that guy to guy conversations are more appropriate, seeing more value in building a relationship with my fiancé instead of me. I don’t know, I can only guess. My guess is that he has certain views about women which inadvertently influenced his behaviour – a small gesture of neglecting to give me his name card, despite me having been the one who first struck up a conversation with him.
I felt a bit brushed off, but forgave the small mistake. It’s not the first time this happened. Not long ago at a wedding an older surgeon similarly extended his business card to my fiancé but not me, despite having spoken to both of us.
I’m not timid and shy – no – that wouldn’t have been the reason why Mr Bashful passed me by. Our conversation before my fiancé arrived was cordial, witty, and appropriate. We had made contact but the conversation quickly shifted to “men only” the moment my fiancé arrived, and I was ceremonially excluded at the business card round. The next time, I should conduct a social experiment: if I presented myself as an independent woman, and was by myself during a similar occasion, speaking to a similar man, would he treat me differently? My hypothesis is I would be given a business card if I were alone!*
In summary, my hunch is that the forgetting to hand me a business card (I was standing right there!) had to do with the following reasons:
Or, I could just email Mr Bashful and ask, since I now have his name card…!
What about you? Have there been instances where you were brushed off, forgotten or neglected because of your sex, gender, race, age, or any other reason?
Have you forgotten to give your business cards to certain persons in a social setting? Or worse, was the omission purposeful?
*it would be hard to come up with scientific conclusions, since it’s hard to control the main variable, i.e. the male subject: Mr Bashful could have been a unique case; another man in the same social situation may have given me a card
All submissions to the Relating to Humans Women’s Issues feature will be profiled on the blog all throughout Women’s History Month. Please share your creative expressions discussing Women’s Issues by submitting them here.
With a Vision to Create a Cinematic Work of Art that both Entertains and Inspires a Discussion for Positive Change, your support will be key to the success in Kurt’s and the Crew’s effort to bring their “Women’s Issues” short film to the screen.
To be notified when their Indigogo Campaign to raise the funds needed to produce the film goes live, please sign up here.
March brings with it Women’s History Month, as well as the launching of our Indigogo campaign to raise the funds that will allow us to produce our short film LEAVE.
And, not coincidentally, both Women’s History Month and our film LEAVE share the goal of highlighting and raising awareness of the many valuable contributions women have made and continue to make to societies all throughout the world.
In my effort to celebrate and support both Women’s History Month and the funding of our short film LEAVE, I am asking you to share your creative efforts here — either as an anecdote, a very short story, a poem, a photograph, or artwork — that seeks to raise awareness of women’s issues…
Because we all know that women’s issues are everyone’s issues.
To augment these Guest Contributions I hope and expect to receive, I will be sharing past submissions from our Relating to Humans Women’s Issues archive.
Even though I haven’t been promoting it lately because I’ve been so involved with other projects, the Relating to Humans feature is still very much a thing here and I encourage you to check it out and consider submitting your work to any/all of the issue features.
All submissions I receive for Women’s History Month will be published on the blog and on the Women’s Issues feature page.
So, if you have something to say that raises the awareness of women’s issues, please consider sharing it here. To submit your work, please follow the Submission Guidelines found on the Relating to Humans page.
And also, please consider supporting us in our efforts to produce LEAVE, a short film that seeks to both entertain and inspire discussion for positive change.
THE WOMAN IN ME
by Debolina Coomar
When I was a daughter, I had dreams,
I learnt that life is not easy, and nothing is what it seems.
When I became a student, I had aspirations,
I learnt that achievements are important, and learnings are an inspiration.
When I became a professional, I had goals,
I learnt that life is full of challenges, and we have to take up different roles.
When I was a wife, I had a duty,
I learnt caring, sharing and trust in a relationship is the real beauty.
When I became a mother, I had responsibilities,
I learnt to take up challenges and fulfill them with my abilities.
When I wear so many different masks everyday,
Each one is different and unique in its own way.
But, when I see myself in the mirror,
I see so many faces, but I cannot find HER.
The woman in me keeps calling me everyday,
I just avoided her as I almost have nothing to say.
But, one day, she saw me back into my eyes,
And wanted to know why I ignored all her cries.
I forgot HER as I was busy being everything else,
But, now I want to be ME and let myself out,
I want to open my heart and let it shout.
I want to start living as MYSELF and let the world see,
The WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE, because that is the best I have in me.
It is my pleasure and honor to kick-off our March-long celebration of Women’s History Month with such a beautiful and inspiring poem by Debolina Coomar.
Thank you for submitting your poetic creativity to our Woman’s Issues feature page, Debolina, thereby allowing us all to enjoy your words.
And I invite and strongly encourage you to visit the Relating to Humans feature and consider sharing with us some of your creative inspiration.
As was Debolina’s, all submissions meeting the editorial standards of yours truly submitted to the Women’s Issues page throughout the month of March will be published to the blog.
And now is a good time to submit your work to all the features, as I am in the process of archiving all submissions received prior to this year, which means each feature page will be empty and the early submissions will receive top billing, so to speak.
Please visit the Relating to Humans page for the Submission Guidelines.
Additionally, I invite you to click on the poster above to learn about some of the things the US Government, via the Small Business Administration and the National Business Women’s Council has planned to celebrate Woman’s History Month in its efforts to raise awareness of Women and Gender Issues.
And lastly, please don’t forget to show your support for our short film, LEAVE, by visiting and following (and spreading the word about) our facebook page at www.facebook.com/leavethemovie.
Another day has passed
Another year has passed
And, woe, others shall pass anon
Who amongst us needs such a curse
As that which forever to us will elude
As that which forever to us will delude
Yea, instead, choose to seek thine peace
In that which shan’t ne’er forsake
For ’tis thy present
Often, we of the Newsletter Love share our writings and whatnots amongst ourselves; and occasionally some of it makes its way to this here blogspace. Today, to kick the year off in poetic style, and to spread around some of our newsletter love, I share here a selection of the newsletter submissions from Andy Smerdon, Pleasant Street, and Priyanki. I thank them for helping us to send out and in the years in poetic style. You can read all their work in the current edition of the Newsletter Love. Additionally, I invite you to visit their sites, check out their work, and follow along with them.
I thank you all for hanging out with me here like you do. It means much, very much, to me.
Have a Happy & Healthy & Humorous New Year, my friends.
Poetry by Andy Smerdon
Stop, listen, what’s that sound
It’s another heart
Along side yours
We all know
It’s ours to share
Not just with our kin
Not controlled by the skin
We believe we have that right
To pick and choose who gets our light
Yet demand this gift of all we see
When love is something, to be shared and free.
Poetry by Pleasant Street (formerly Rose Red)
In the dog days of Winter dreaming of green
I get weary shoveling, and
struggling to remain upright
scraping those windows yet one more time
coffee spilling into the snow
leaving an ugly brown stain
a fog rising above the crater-
Shit, I really needed that.
I turn my head toward the apple tree
but it does not answer
I remember how July damn near killed me
melting into my clothing
certain that they would find them
in a pile, my body nearly gone
just a grimace where my head used to be.
I think of this memory heading into the wind
and I know that I’ve never felt
so alive in the dead of winter
never felt so sure that I no longer
want to toss it all in
I want this feeling of life
dichotomy of sunlight and frigid air
both surrounding me
with their life-giving forces
hot and cold-dark and light
and I drop the ice scraper
for one moment of pleasure
like some idiot thinking she is 8 years old
-forgetting the sadness in the house-
to make a snow angel
squinting from the sunshine in my eyes
Poetry by Priyanki
Keep flipping the pages
Lost in the books only to be found
The best place to be profound
Unfolding, unwinding so many mysteries.
There is so much to seek
so much to explore
All I feel is to be engrossed in more.
Sometimes I’m short of time
Finishing daily chores of my life’s book
That is also prime to me
As it gives me a sense of my being.
As I move & flip each page
It gives me a feeling of success,
Success of moving on
For not sitting on a page for too long
But I’m also a human being, at times get stuck in life’s routine.
Wherein I just sit & ponder, about all the life’s wonder
All that I got so far.
Did I ask for, or was it an unexpected rain shower…
Then I think , oh! I should have been prepared,
Carrying an umbrella would have taken care.
It would have saved me from all the mess
Oh! look at me? I’m drench all wet,
What shall I do now? Sit & cry
Or dance in the rain & enjoy
Jump in those puddles & let it all go
Or standstill & heighten my sores.
Oh! Let me ask my soul before I go
What does it wish,
What does it say…
Shh!, Let me hear to that voice, it’s coming from deep inside
You know I need to focus more, the outside noises are making me deaf
Then my brain gets lazy, stops working hard to listen to what lies deep within…
& tries to find that easy way,
Of sitting on that page of life’s book & not taking the pain to flip or move
& see what’s coming next,
May be a rainbow or the warmth of sun
But for that it needs to make that turn.
What did you say?
It happens with you too! Oh really!
Is that true?
Don’t you worry
U & I will this time
Silence those noises, disturbing our mind.
All those noises that cause chaos.
& make the turn, that sounds so hard
take the turn of flipping that page
Those pages of our life’s book
Which needs to be closed,
For better outlook
To see what life is holding next
A new beginning is waiting ahead
No matter if the page is interesting, still you need to keep moving,
keep exploring to learn more & you may find that pot of gold
Crossing the life’s rainbow
I don’t want to say at the end.
Life surprises me every now & then
And if the page was mundane then all the more you need to change.
Life’s book is a mix of all
You name the genre
It has it all.
Each of yours life is gifted with it
Fiction, comedy, mystery or thrill
Suspense or action we all go through.
We all are readers of life’s book…
Good or bad, slow or fast
Read it in your stride…
But just remember one little thing,
Keep turning & keep flipping
To keep finding new meanings,
Waiting for you on the next page.
Yes! You can
Now that you think
All you need to
Is keep reading!
Have you had a chance to check out what’s going on with Newsletter Love lately? We recently announced that we will be sending out 2015 in style, meaning me sharing your poetry and other writing via the newsletter on New Year’s Eve and with a selected few being published right here on the blog as my first post for 2016.
So check it out, subscribe, and help us send 2015 out in poetic style.
I was going to post this on Saturday, seeing that August 8 was the last day for submissions to this volume of the Indie Author Book Selection & Review, but when I went to check my post office box – something I do only infrequently or when one of you kind folk email me to tell me that your book is happily on its way to me – and what to my wondering eyes did appear on the door to the office but a sign advising that the joint closes at 11:00 am on Saturdays. It was 12:30 pm. Unfulfilled me…
And so I went and checked again yesterday and found my box chock full of, not books, but junk mail.
My intention was to then come home to write this post; however, I got bullied over by all the nastiness in the news and ended up writing what I wrote… That gun thing.
So here we are. And below, I present to you four very fine looking books written by three assuredly fine writing authors. For the next couple weeks or so I will peruse them, mull over them, perhaps sacrifice a pencil or two to the Writing Gods, and then eventually come to a decision as to which book will be selected to receive the Full Monty review treatment as advertised and promised by me (read over various IABS&R pages to get an idea of just what a Full Monty review treatment may possibly entail).
So, in the interim, how about you also check out the four submissions by clicking through their respective book reveals, the guest posts by their respective authors, and maybe even purchasing one or all of them.
And if you do happen to purchase one or all of them, it would be pure awesomeness if you were to also write a smoking hot review of those that you read and post it on your site and on Amazon and on Goodreads and on any other place you can think of that will hark a clarion call to all readers of the world what you, yourself, have witnessed.
Can you dig?
Because that’s what this is all about…
Supporting and perhaps even celebrating Indie Authors.
So here they are as advertised and promised by moi:
What is it about the way that some words can be arranged and aligned in such a way that they can take us to places we’ve never been before?
Who knows, right? I’m just thankful that it happens at all.
All I know is that when I read Stephanie’s story it moved me in ways I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the way she described the setting…the beach, the waves, the bonfire. I could almost feel the pull of the moon.
I grew up on Lake Erie and there was a time long, long ago that I could have been one of those mindless teenagers out there running around in the sand, mindless of life that lay before me. Annoying those who already know all too well.
Yeah, I don’t know why it is that Stephanie’s stories moves me the way it does…
I’m just glad it does.
Thank you, Stephanie, for sending me your sad yet magical and wonderfully titled story of inspiration.
by Stephanie Buosi
Silly little girls are dancing in bikinis. Their boys chase them around a bonfire on the beach. The waves lap at their heels and mine, although I am neither silly nor wearing a bikini. I hear their laughter as an insult. They play with the night and use the darkness in their game of cat and mouse. I skulk around them unnoticed and am easily on my way.
Perhaps I should have joined in their games. But I walk in a dream, and am afraid of feeling joy only to wake up again.
I told no one.
In a sense, I suppose you could say I ran away. But you can’t tell the people who are the fabric of your life of your decision to quit your home, your job, your life, and head to the beach. You are also a part of the fabric of their lives, and they would never let you go willingly; there would at least be one round of guilt. No. It is always best to just slip away.
I went to the beach because you never took me to the beach. When I press my toes into the white sand the only imprint is mine. You are nowhere near this beach, so I can breathe a little easier.
I could still smell you back in the home I quit. On the bed, against the wall, on the kitchen counter pressed against the granite… you were still there. That was why I sold the house. It now legally belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Collins, respectively. They were a nice couple, yet I still wanted to spit in their faces when they agreed to the price. Why so little? Couldn’t they see what I was giving up?
You were a part of my shadow. You knew my darkness, and relished the bad with the good. You knew I was a bit of everything, and loved to touch it all. Now no one can touch me and you made sure of this. Perhaps I let you have too much. Every night, as I walk home, I remember this and let myself fall on the sand. I sink like a stone thrown in water. This is another reason why I chose the beach; sand is much softer than concrete, and my knees no longer hurt when they smack the ground.
I am playing such a strange role. Who knew I could be so powerful as to be untouchable? I am now a league onto my own, possessing of something no one else will know. Because how can they know? You were my shadow alone.
I have to skip around starfish on my walk home. Every night they are pushed by the waves to their deaths, and leave behind beautiful concrete memories of their lives. The locals collect them in wicker baskets and sell them to ambivalent tourists during the day. Their bodies are treasured, and they become something more than star-shaped predators belonging to the class Asteroidea.
You. Homo sapiens. Workaholic. Wonderful fingers. Belonging to me. Once. And now you belong to the God you worshiped, and I can only touch you through sleep, shadow, or imagination. I hope you are aware that you are challenging my sanity. Are you happy?
I wore a mask at the funeral. I wore a mask so others would not be frightened of me. You wouldn’t have recognized me. I was all dolled up, but felt so cold. People spoke to me and all I could do was smile. But at least with a mask on they had the courage to try. You were right there but so far away. I couldn’t have touched you even if I tried.
The beach is usually deserted at night. Most are afraid to venture beyond the reach of a streetlight. They stay on the boardwalk with drinks in their hands and listen to loud music to drown the call of gently crashing waves. They are afraid of the loneliness, I think. The ocean is a siren that provokes thoughts most would rather hide behind dirty martinis.
But there is freedom in the dark. I can be me: powerful and untouchable as I ache for you.
The girls and boys are now disembodied voices drifting along the sea breeze, and their bonfire now a candle against an inky sky. Life once again feels like a dream. Colorless, the world holds the potential for green skies or purple sand. Whatever I imagine the world to be I can paint it over the black of night. Perhaps I can paint you beside me?
Putting one step in front of the other is not a hard thing to do. I do that every night. I put one foot in front of the other and hope that my steps will bring me to a place of peace. I hope to find a place where I can feel okay without you.
I know it will come. Night cannot exist without day.
Apologies all, but I’ve been down with a cold the past couple of days so I haven’t been able to get through all the stories submitted in response to my request for inspiration.
I will post my selection tomorrow.