Not quite. It’s a 6.

Coffee could no longer stave off the deleterious effects of a lack of sleep for nigh going on 3  weeks. Deadlines were deadlines and no where was there sympathy for those who found themselves smack dab dead up against one, let alone more than one.

So what’s a body to do when the eyes, conspirators in a campaign for independence, begin glazing, blinking increasing in frequency for want of closing indefinitely or, resistant to peer pressure, remain open, unseen forces having pried them (open) wider than is natural for man or beast. Overcompensation at its most mischievous.

As many a writer will attest, there are advantages of sleep deprivation however, the benefits are almost always eclipsed by the negative effects yet hail to the slumber deprived for within them lies the pathway to a portal to the “dimension of imagination” as Rod would say, a “dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity”.

I was hoping to reach that dimension this evening…

It’s Six Sentence Story Thursday Link Up!

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge. Are you ready? If not, it’s time to fire up the machinery and tap out some wordage ‘cuz it’s… Six Sentence Story Time! How difficult can that be, right? I submit, not very. Except…. when it is! Say you have a concept, idea, teetering on the edge of your imagination. What do you do to push it over the edge? How do you entice your character to come out from hiding behind the over sized bookcase or heaven forbid from behind the easy chair? What stimulates your creativity? I’m all ears but at this exact moment, seems I’ve got some heavy furniture to move around 😀 Read you soon!

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
Come back here on Thursday, link your post…
Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers 🙂


You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

“Every writer is a frustrated actor who recites his lines in the hidden auditorium of his skull.” 
― Rod Serling

The Edges, they are a changin’…

[Note to self:  “Don’t be scared”]

Hey.  Glad you could join me today.  Going to self-indulge a bit.  Trying to translate into written word some shit slowly whirling around my brain.  Seems to me there has been some movement towards timeline changes. (If you have “kept up” with my own self then you know that I am actively engaging in an attempt to change my timeline.)  This attempt at script re-write is a little different from the sort that comes in sideways – the shift that results from steady unwavering, machine like forward movement.

“What’s the matter now ?!  Don’t know what the hell I want to write about today.”  Well, truth be told I was on the verge of the “creative” until my immediate environment was disturbed. (this is, in fact, a half draft many months old) The important point is the recognition of the importance of Sundays in my timeline of “creative” writing.  That in and of itself should qualify for an immediate quarantine effective upon my waking on that particular day. 

Should qualify“? See, that’s the thing with this timeline, script re-write thing.  All the markers my brain has always recognized and acknowledged as indicators of an affirmative lifestyle have been disappearing at an increasingly alarming rate as if they were words written in invisible ink upon the ledger that is my life.  

To that end, I recently stepped a little to the left and challenged/commmitted, myself to participate in a group event.  Every 4th Tuesday of the month there is a meeting of the Poet’s Corner held at my local library.  The other day I spoke to the “man in charge” who otherwise leads this group and listened to him describe what it is they do there at the Poet’s Corner.  All the components are in place for a rather large stomache ache. (considered a good thing for clarks)

In a nustshell:  each meeting members take turns presenting a “challenge”.  The challenge is to write a poem in a particular format, bring it to the next meeting with copies to be distributed to everyone present.  Each person reads their poem and then everyone critiques it, offers ideas, advice etc.  You know, make suggestions as to how it should have been written, or might be better if you just (fill in the blank).   Yes, you do sense a little sarcasm.  (nothing like having a college instructor of creative writing tell you  “your style of writing is dead”.)

Where the hell was I…..oh yeah, a group of people sit around challenging themselves to write better poetry. I get it. This month’s challenge is to write a poem in the Lai style.   Had to look it up. “The lai is a Medieval narrative or lyric poem, which flourished in 12th century France.”  (suggested by a roger? ya think?)  

I don’t know about pentameter, or stanza or couplets or rhyming on the second line of the first stanza until you get to the fifth and then you don’t so that when you get to the a a b a b… it will change to a a a a a….  I just write words and they seem to appear in the form of “poetry”.  Hey! Look at that! I just used the present tense!  There’s still hope for this Girlie yet, to sit and write one more set, of words on a page, damn she’s such a sage….