Punch Drunk Love

Black Dolce and Gabana shades cover the evidence of false truths and broken dreams

I step into the dewy presence of an arrogant sun that beats down upon my skin

Wickedly attempting to reveal the secrets hiding beneath my hundred dollar lenses

I walk atop cracked pavement in five-inch stilettos,

Frantically reaching higher than the low I have succumbed myself to

Diamond encrusted bangles wrap around purple fingerprints embedded in my wrists

These expensive embellishments suit me better than the bad memories left behind

They resemble the platinum, diamond dipped choker draped about my esophagus

Coyly permitting my breathless oxygen to exist

Alexander McQueen gently caresses my red and blue spotted skin

The click of my heels sings a tune often forgotten amongst the loud thuds enclosed within bleeding walls

Darkness follows along the bright, indignant rays of this still arrogant sun

The only light shining radiates from the glimmer of the wedding band on his finger as he berates my face

The morning after, a haughty gift box graces the mahogany night table

Chuckling through the small glimpses of prying sun light peeking through 500 thread count, Italian curtains

He, the he that shares the name I call my own, greets me with warm smiles

Warm like the supple flames of Dante’s Inferno

Sweet kisses, sweet as the bitter taste of tarnished fantasies adorning the tattered folds of my mentality

Sapphire jewels exaggerate teardrop rings

Devaluing the fading merit I once held

Frugality’s meaning holds true in the force of his love, personified in the impact of his hits

I, the me that hides behind the barrenness of materialistic significances, has been bought out and sold

I am price less

Still, he prices more to define the blood that hemorrhages internally

Sorrow is invisible yet it leaks and stains the fibers of a hand-knotted Persian carpet

Nevertheless, love is the only drug that emits into the thick air trapped within a bar-less prison

Retail Therapy

One pair of Christian Louboutin pumps

The way the red bottoms compliment the black pavement forces my subconscious to accept the use of one full paycheck at the outlet mall

Two pairs of Christian Dior denim jeans,

Only because of the modesty in which it swathes my booty

The curious eyes that follow my strut implores me to walk slower

To ensure they also obtain a decent glance at my Gucci shades

The hidden bundles of misguided nickels and dimes secured beneath pompous couch cushions made it all possible

These sleek, while modish frames speak the names of insecure girls picked last in dodge ball

Finding their claim to fame amongst costly namesakes and gaudy materials

This silk blouse, hand sewn right from the infants of moths

Tenderly pacing the pores of my skin

Showing the world how shapely my breast form while lying under Chiffon fabric

I am the queen of Sheba upon leaving the crowded parking lot of International Mall

For the diamonds embedded within my crown are cut so clear,

The reflection of your judgmental yet highly envious insides shine ever so brightly

My Prada boots reaffirm the well-known fact that I am better than you

Silent miseries ring false within the luminosity that are my jewels

Encrusted in the humble embellishments accenting my fingers and earlobes

A second pair of Christian Louboutins

Shoes this heavenly ought to come in fours

The higher the heel the closer I am to retail sanity

Constantly repeating the task of stabilizing my raging emotions

Attempting to reach the dressed up image of an overrated socialite

While lying on a therapeutical bench trying on shoes, I pay my doctor’s fees at the register

My prescription written out within the numbers of my American Express

My cure,

The palpable joy of a fully stocked walk-in closet

Poor Girl

Haven't written a poem in a while....

Love me.

Take from me the brittle reminders of my pain and

Adore me

Give me the clandestine affection left uncovered

Though coveted, the desire for joy remains forgotten

Nevertheless, I hide anger behind plastered smiles

The dried white stains of gushing teardrops lay beneath the wrinkles in my laugh

Haughty, boisterous laughs that bounce off peeling walls

Dirty carpets soak up the dirt from my anguish and the hurt from my self-pity

Therefore, you must love me.

Fall to your knees and beg for the pleasure I crave to give yet I,

Turn up my nose and fold heavy arms over a heaving chest

Short breaths take bathroom breaks while I pretend to care less

You’ll work for my love though I have given it freely to less than worthy suitors

Still, you’ll crawl on your weak hands and scraped shins

A drained sense of purpose will weigh heavily on your shoulders

My quick tongue will cut your intentions in half

Split between the will to proceed but

The truth behind the glint in my eyes will encourage you to

Love me.

Remove me from the poverty that exists within cold walls

Tall dividers with transparent thickness giving you the opportunity to see

what I surreptitiously tells others to see

I bat my eyes and sneak nuggets of veracity between the creases of my breasts

Leaned forward at eye-level,

Judgment level.

See through the lies I tell myself and

love me.

Fall to your knees, clasp your palms to your chest while your quivering jaw tips backward

Tilt your eyes upward and query for divine intervention

for me.

And when you have me,

Strip me of the deceptions that cloud my sense of clarity

Take from me the insecurities that sully me and

Do what only you, toucher of the depth of my essence can do and

Love me.

Get to Know Me

I was reading over Toni Morris's writing process and the rituals she engages in before she begins writing and I found myself thoroughly enlightened. She spends quite a bit of time, almost two years, getting to know her characters and their circumstances before she begins to construct the language of the book. She stated, "I've spent a couple of years, probably eighteen months, just thinking about these people, the circumstances, the whole architecture of the book, and I sort of feel so intimately connected with the place and the people and the events that when language does arrive, I'm pretty much ready." Lately, before I start writing my novels, I develop an outline that forces me to think about the main characters of my book--names, occupations, hobbies, background. It's a quick, one page outline that I often go back and reference during the writing process. In the past, I'd just write and let the story come to me as I wrote; however, that has often left me altering the character's dynamics because I never had a blueprint for the character to begin with. 

When readers engulf themselves in my work, or any work for that matter, they connect with the characters. The single mother or the emotionally conflicted drug dealer is a real person for the reader and they connect with the character's mannerisms, actions and history, and as a writer, it is important that the character remains consistent. The moment the character starts off as a sassy, independent single mother with a heart of gold and then ends up as a weak-minded neglectful parent with a devious side is the moment the reader pulls away from the read and questions the writer's ability. Yes, there are going to be to the times where a character will evolve throughout the course of a novel, but it has to be believable. Everything in the character's past must culminate into who this character is evolving into, and the second something doesn't make sense is the second the reader catches on. I'd like to think that I write to a smart, sexy and detail oriented bunch of readers that can't be fooled by my foolish inconsistencies so it's important that I get to know my characters. 

I'm almost done editing my novel Dealing Broken Promises and I've already written the outline for two more novels. I'm excited because I've spent a lot of time thinking about my characters. I've spent so much time rewriting and revising because I've spent a large amount of time crafting my characters in a way that is true to their title and that often involves the act of revamping an entire scene or section of dialogue in a way that seems more realistic. I think about my characters as more than just names on a page but real people with real issues. If my character was real, what would he or she be doing right now? I want to take the Toni Morrison approach and spend more time getting to know my characters to the point where their old friends, old lovers, long-lost family members that I've reconnected with. Ultimately, by getting to know my characters, I am doing my readers a great service. For example, they know Erin would say that or do this because that's in her character, they know her. 

So, as a writer, get to know your characters and their circumstances so well that when your readers cozy up to your novel, they know your character just as well as you do. 

Writers and Storytellers

As I continue to write my books Dealin' Broken Promises, previously titled Black Caesar, I've spent a lot of time reading a number of other books. As a writer, it is important to read. In the past, when asked to read something I'd always turn my nose up and reply, "I'm a writer, not a reader." First mistake, and a quite grave one at that. As a writer, reading allows you the chance to see your work from a different perspective. It gets you out of the rut you may be in when writing the same line, plot thrust, or whatever roadblock in your writing that prevents you from moving forward and developing that next publishable work. Hence, if you're a writer, then you absolutely must be a reader.

On that note, as I read other works I found myself turning into a grammar snob. I approach other writers' works with the notion that, "Ugh, I could've written this better," or  "Ugh, this author's book, riddled with poor grammar, isn't worth the publish. Why not me instead?" Shame on me. Of course this author wouldn't have written this book like me because the author is not me and this author does not approach the art of authoring quite like me. Hence why that author is published and I am simply but a reader. Nevertheless, I've come to the realization that the reason why I approach authors' works differently is because not all authors are writers, but merely storytellers.

I am a writer. I will write anything, anywhere, anyway just for the love of writing. I love feeling the stroke of my pen as it glides along the cool feel of loos leaf paper. I like to sit back and gaze at my words typed or handwritten and admire the shape of my vowels accentuated by the curve of each consonant. I love words and I love to see them written. I am a writer. And although I understand that there are many other writers out there that may share my sentiments, there are many storytellers that may not.

Storytellers love the story. They may not concern themselves with perfect grammar and unparalleled description of details that only distract the reader from the story; they are storytellers. They strive to tell a story from start to finish while teasing the reader with relevant details in the process. The grammar may not always be perfect, the punctuation may not be on point (pun intended) but the story, however wonderfully crafted, is there.

In this day and age, readers love a good storyteller. No one lambastes a storyteller for missing a comma if the story is amazingly authored. If I tell you about my trip to Witch Mountain, you're not hoping that I don't use contractions or start sentences with And, But, or Because. No, you're hoping that the story takes you on the ride you strapped yourself in for. As aspiring writers, it is important not to focus too much on the details that merely distract the writer but rather tell a story that forces the reader to forget that you ended the last sentence with a preposition.

I think I forget that. And although I'll make no plans to stop being a writer, I realize that it's high time I take on the joy of being an amazing storyteller. After all, readers just want to read a great story.

Writing Rules

Just a reminder reminding my fellow writers to write...
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Nano Wrimo

A student approache dme with this Nano Wrimo. Apparently, it challenges asipring novelists to write 50,000 words within a month. No editing, no rewriting, just writing. I am intrigued. There i sno grand prize. Winners don't get a trophy and a published novel, just the feeling of accomplishment and an internet badge of completion. Nevertheless, the possibility of someone else reading my work intrigues me. I'll be done with my tentatively titled "Good Girls" work by the time this writing challenge begins Nov. 1st). Hence, I am considering it. Here are the details:

National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing on November 1. The goal is to write a 50,000 word, (approximately 175 page) novel by 11:59:59, November 30.
Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.
Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It’s all about quantity, not quality. This approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.
Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that’s a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.
As you spend November writing, you can draw comfort from the fact that, all around the world, other National Novel Writing Month participants are going through the same joys and sorrows of producing the Great Frantic Novel. Wrimos meet throughout the month to offer encouragement, commiseration, and—when the thing is done—the kind of raucous celebrations that tend to frighten animals and small children.
In 2011, we had 256,618 participants and 36,843 of them crossed the 50K finish line by the midnight deadline, entering into the annals of NaNoWriMo superstardom forever. They started the month as auto mechanics, out-of-work actors, and middle school English teachers. They walked away novelists.

So, to recap:

What: Writing one 50,000-word novel from scratch in a month’s time.
Who: You! We can’t do this unless we have some other people trying it as well. Let’s write laughably awful yet lengthy prose together.
Why: The reasons are endless! To actively participate in one of our era’s most enchanting art forms! To give yourself permission to write without obsessing over quality. To be able to make obscure references to passages from our novels at parties. To stop being one of those people who say, “I’ve always wanted to write a novel,” and become one of those people who can say, “Oh, a novel? It’s such a funny story–I’ve written three.”
When: You can sign up anytime to add your name to the roster and browse the forums. Writing begins 12:00:01 November 1. To be added to the official list of winners, you must reach the 50,000-word mark by November 30 at 11:59:59. Once your novel has been verified by our web-based team of robotic word counters, the partying begins.