Archive for June, 2013

Embarking on Camp NaNoWriMo 2013

Posted in on writing, Personal Notes with tags , , , , , on June 29, 2013 by Sarah aka Sarjé

In July, I’m going to be working on another month-long writing program, NaNoWriMo’s writing camp, which bills itself as “an idyllic writer’s retreat smack-dab in the middle of your crazy life.” To be honest, life hasn’t been any much crazier than usual. Just warmer, and with more power outtages.

NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) was created with the purpose of folks writing novels of 50,000 words or more, in a month. I’ve participated in the November program for a number of years, winning only once–2011. This year, I’m rebelling.

My plan is to write 50,000 words (although, the wordcount goal is flexible at Camp–and you can change it up through July 25, when “validation” begins), but not of a novel.

Instead, I’m planning to clean house. To sweep away the detritus of my mind’s rooms, focusing on short stories, poems, and script ideas. Ideally, at least one story will stand out, and lead to a better plan for November, when I’ll work on a novel again.

I’m also considering trying some children’s literature, for which I may also sketch out illustration ideas.

So, I’m using Camp as a clearinghouse. Some of the work will indubitably be posted here. I’m also gratified to have found a group of likeminded folks working on a wide variety of projects, all of whom are interested in critique and future publication.

For one week in July, I’ll also be at a real-life camp, living in a tent and writing in between sessions of gorging myself on Danish food, dancing, and singing my lungs out. Thankfully, there’s also internet access. 🙂

This is gonna be fun. If you’d like to join me, visit http://www.campnanowrimo.org/.

A priori / a posteriori

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on June 25, 2013 by Sarah aka Sarjé

If I knew you forever, I knew you that day,

walking down pavement, gun-shy and grey,

my hand in your pocket, superficially

expressing that you were mine, temporarily.

If you knew me today, you might love me,

but never temporarily, still never–

with my hand in your pocket, and not yours in mine,

but hand in hand on an uncreated path.

As the One

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on June 25, 2013 by Sarah aka Sarjé

As the one who’s always left: I’ll say

that given the chance, I would meet you

today, and I would hand you my changes

and my pocket-lint too, and I would kiss you

and whisper how much I loved you.

 

As the one who’s always right: I’ll say

that given the chance, I’d give up my

ways, and admit to my wrongs and admit

to the lies, and I’d wish for forever

but be glad for our sighs.

 

As the one who’s always neutral: I’ll say

that given the chance, I’d fade straight

away, become your white wall, your canvass

so new, and be grateful when you

colored me bright: red and blue.

 

As the one who’s reversing: I’ll say

that given the chance, I would take back

yesterday, and start fresh to walk the lakes

in my old shoes, talk or be silent,

grab hold, and never lose.

Memory I (Neroli)

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on June 20, 2013 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Just a wisp: a scent of neroli, garden soil, and confusion,

that blows by you on your bike rides through town:

strange, familiar–like a beer you tried once in some city (

fuck, which city?) you can’t remember what it’s called

or why it matters. But you know that it does.

A bit of dust in your eye, irritating you long after

you’ve wiped it out, you tear up, remembering

the unremarkable and unforgettable thing

that’s on the tip of your brain, on the highest shelf,

behind the broken kettle and forty-year-old National Geographics.

But your mind is shoots, and ladders,

all fun and games till it really matters,

there’s an enamel pot, a dusty set of salad bowls,

and a picture-cookbook your mother liked (you should call her),

endless distractions, endless pratfalls, endless forgetting.

At Any Point

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on June 20, 2013 by Sarah aka Sarjé

At any point,

I could have said something.

But cowardice won out.

At any point,

I could have turned around.

But facing forward was easier.

At any point,

I could have said stop.

But going on was comfortable.

At one point,

I could have done something.

But now it is too late.

Nocturnal

Posted in poetry with tags , , on June 20, 2013 by Sarah aka Sarjé

My eyes will glow, as I hunt vermin,

beat out rhythms on the hardwood,

distract myself from the hurt

of absence, of emptiness.

Thorny-pawed, scratched up,

bleeding and bruised,

taken a licking, keeping on ticking,

unsure–to what I’m counting down.

Eventually I wear out.

Eventually I curl up on myself,

and fall asleep waiting for the hovering stroke

of gentle hand–of a gentleman.

Clouds (Haiku)

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on June 18, 2013 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Did I bust ’em up?

Or did they simply fade to

wander fresh pastures?