Monthly Archives: February 2020

Truth about witches

Oh yes witches are bitches

You shouldn’t cross us at all

You are a stupid person

Who doesn’t know fuck all

You sit and play with candles

You sit and play with words

You sit and design your potions

How utterly absurd

You sit and preach your karma

You sit and judge us all

You deny the darkest powers

That sits to serve us all

You fill your cauldron with rose petals and salt

If your spell doesn’t work, it is your own fault

These are the qualities of a true love potion

Chocolate, chillies, cinnamon, plums and your devotion

Not all spells are to go inside a pot

Not all spells are obvious

But you wouldn’t know a lot

Your knowledge comes from people who have blather flair

You will not find love potions in book shops or book fairs

Now heed what I say

Hear me strong and loud

A witch doesn’t sell her power

That is not allowed

To give away your knowledge

Give away for free

You can do this if you want

But you shouldn’t if you were me

You lose power with every spell you share

This isn’t something, they teach you at book fairs

Witches cast your spells, but cast them with scrutiny

For if you share too much, the powers will mutiny

Only a true witch, knows things like this and more

Do not trust the ones who shares spells like a whore

All ye songs I sing on this blog and elsewhere

Are all make believe, the real ones you’ll find NOWHERE

This is the creed of all witches, all witches that are true

Witchcraft is inside my blood, but it isn’t inside of you

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Writers and social networking

The question I posed in yesterday’s post was written because I genuinely struggle with the question and it can cause a writing slump for me as I sit back worrying about writing yet another story just like “story A” but with a lot of major differences and different characters.  I would love nothing better than to have the freedom to write all the things I would like, but that would make me come across to readers as predictable and boring.  I can run along with the same idea and make changes quite easily and do so forever and be quite happy about it, but I don’t like doing things for myself too much, I like to write to make other people happy and to help break their monotony, I don’t want to be accused of boring them with the same stuff all the while.  But I do know that diehard fans would love reading the same stuff and the same characters over and over again, but they are far and few between usually.

What I lack more than anything in my life is a group of people who can talk to me about their experiences and how they do things and whether or not I actually have the right to feel this way and to sort of give me the permission one way or another to continue doing that or discontinue doing that. 

I can think for myself don’t get me wrong – but it is hard when you are the only writer you personally know and that the ones I do socialise with are very successfully already that they got past all of this twenty, thirty years ago and I can’t get close enough to discuss this at length with them.  My writer friend circle is so small that there isn’t a lot of room for debate if you understand me?  So I don’t have a lot of personal opinions to mull over.

This is the big bug bear of writers who don’t socialise – they don’t have a support network that is large enough to actually give them a good look into a true writers world and they can eventually become quite easily biased by the very few writers or indeed tutors of writings opinions and styles so much so, that they lose themselves in their tiny circles quality of writing.  Or to rephrase that, they become who they socialise with because their circle is so small and therefore influences them too much.  I understand how vital it is to have a large network, but I just can’t seem to get started – I don’t seem to have the personality where other writers want to talk to me more than just a criticism or a sentence. 

I think it has a lot to do with the social isolation I have in general life anyway.  I never really knew how to socialise appropriately because I was always shut away whilst growing up – but I have tried to approach people in the writing community to find myself up against people who seem so full of angst at talking to me that they give me short terse sentences or just all out criticism which isn’t healthy on so many levels that to be quite frank, I have given up on the idea of online social networking.

That’s a big shame, because I really want to learn more about this craft but I just keep coming up against a brick wall socially about it.

 

 

 

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A writers question

I have a question – how many times can a person use an idea for their writing before their readers start to find the author predictable and boring?  Can the same idea be used in many different types of storylines?  This is a question I am struggling to find answers for lately; I have many good ideas for many different types of stories, but I can’t decide which one to go with – I’d like to eventually go for them all, but I worry that my readers will lose interest if there are too many differences of the same old storyline. 

I have ideas for mermaid stories; many ideas, depicting the mermaids in different lights and scenarios and in each story their culture and their ways are very different as much as their personalities are.

The same with my vampires, I have many different personalities for vampires and many different concepts of how they should live their lives within my stories – but – should an author be known for always depicting the vampires and mermaids that they write about in the same or similar way as they always have done?  Should they be known for that kind of vampire and that kind of mermaid rather than many types?  Do the readers expect consistency in every story about vampires to be alike or similar to another story they have read from the same author – or are big changes from story to story acceptable?

I wish I knew more about this.

I have never joined a writers circle or anything before and I have never really socialised amongst other writers, it is difficult for me to get to group sessions because of my illness and disabilities, so as long as it is free online I can’t really find out more.

What are you views on this subject?

 

 

 

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Home to home

I have a wonderful home where the butterfly roam and the trees are purple and gold

I have a small garden fragrant and sweet, where silver geese have overflown

There is lavender blue and forget me nots too and the wine comes straight from the vine

I sit and I knit with cobwebs I’ve picked, laced with dew and I think life is fine

How the laughter of summer gives us all good cheer and warms us straight to the bone

I sit and I ponder about life beyond yonder and I can’t ever leave this home

For it is said there, that life is cold and without care

That people laden forests with chrome

They have not a good thought about what will be fraught of the animals they have to rehome

I cannot yet see, how life can be, as cold and cruel as it is there

I cannot imagine life within margins where everything is ripped bare

I don’t believe it’s true, I bet neither can you

Those creatures can be so mean

It must be a story for there is no glory in living life that demeans

So I sit in wonder at that awful place

It can’t be real I say

For surely intelligent creatures can see the damage of what they take away?

Life can never be that way

I think here I am meant to stay

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Filed under Poems G - I

Learning about prose, poetry and verse

I am an almost entirely self-taught writer and artist, I have never received proper formal training in my creative endeavours; the closest I believe would be the English Literature GCSE I did in distance learning college when I was twenty one; I am never sure if my grammar or punctuation is correct and I have little confidence in how professional I come across.  I am confounded when I hear that many writers will edit and reedit their work even before they blog it, to me, every blog post, every blog poem and story is a first draft – is this really so bad to confess?

I never really had proper schooling as a child either; my time within the educational system was sparse with long bouts of home education where my very dyslexic and sheltered mother would be my only teacher.  Even as a home educated child, I was mostly self-taught via books from the library or videos and magazines – I never got my hands on the internet until my seventeenth birthday and I only got it because my mother was pushed into it by both my brother and society as a whole – because when I reached college age, most things I needed were online and hard to find offline.  My pleads with my mum for the internet were only heard when several times we entered stores inquiring about college books and other things I needed for my studies and was told to go to the web – which for several weeks my mother thought was some new brand of shop and she kept looking for it everywhere, until my teacher explained to us both the web was actually the internet.

I never learned, even to this day the difference between poetry, prose, rhyme, haiku and song.  But I am starting to learn – better late than never, eh?

Rhyme and poetry, are they the same?  I don’t know yet – but it is prose that throws me.

Haiku explanation is the simplest of the lot – but what makes a song?  Is a song really a long poem that repeats itself?  I think it is, but not clear.

This is why I lump all those things together in tags – most of my things are rhyme or poetry I believe, though I am not sure I quite understand how to create a stanza – what is a stanza?  Is it just a paragraph?  I don’t know, I am still learning.

This blog is as much about my learning of the craft as it is my doing of the craft.

I must admit, other than just doing the craft, I don’t do much learning of it.  I never actually went out of my way to read books about how to hone my craft and understand the terminologies – the only exception to the rule are the books I read on how to write fiction and how to write generally – such as Stephen King’s On Writing and Julia Cameron’s the artist way and that sort of thing.

It is only recently that I learned to try and not to write numbers down like this, I was 21yrs old and I ate 5 mouthful of peas – instead I know that I should write I was twenty one years old and ate five mouthful of peas – it seems rather basic, but they are important things to learn.

I consider myself an artist, though I have never sold a piece of work purely on the base that I never know if my work is finished properly enough to sell – for example, do I have to varnish a painting or preserve it in some way and if so how and what do I do?  I have researched this online and I don’t find the kind of help I need.

So this post is just letting you know that I am still on a learning curve about what a poem is and what is prose?

 

 

 

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Edited a former post

A former post I had on here called “Discrimination and heritage” has been edited because of new turn of events; I have found out that I have Armenian ancestry as well and that one of my former love interests is back in my life as a friend.  Because my relationship with Paul is an open relationship, he and my former love interest are OK with it all.  

It also brings me peace of mind that we have communicated again and he has managed to come to live in the UK after-all.  I have missed him.  I found him on Facebook and told him about what I had found out in the past few days about my grandmother’s family history – that they were Armenian Muslims – I was interested to learn more from him about the Islamic faith and about that area, as he is a keen amateur historian as well.  

https://fantasyfed.com/2020/01/18/discrimination-and-heritage/

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Gather here all ye witches

Gather here all ye witches

Gather here in the midnight wood

Call upon your greatest powers

For evil not for good

Let your powers go berserk

There are people I want to curse

So gather here tonight, be called with my verse

Bring your familiars and your demons

Bring them all here tonight

Burn with aching desire filled with the devils semen

Raise your kundalini snake, higher and higher

Revenge is my desire

Witches, sisters, brothers, warlocks

Gather here; have my enemy’s soul locked

Locked in hatred, locked in pain

Drive this bastard’s mind insane

When the bell tolls of his death

When he has drawn his last breath

He will not be released from this torment

Not until he has repent – for the time he hurt me

Let it be, let it be, let it be

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Mermaids murder murmur

They told me to drown my sorrows

So I drowned you

I held your head under water

Until your life was through

I supped and dined on your heart

Killing you was a fine art

I am part fish and human too

I took immense joy ending you

You was my bane

You was my terror

Bothering me was your error

I pulled you into deep dark waters

I won’t be a pet for your daughters

A mermaid lives her life free in the sea

Your biggest mistake

Was hunting me

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Filed under Poems M - O

Friend for a procrastinating writer

I need a kick up the bum

A good writing chum

Who will nag at me all day!

To sit and write and get on with something

To focus and not to play

I need someone formidable

Who will watch me as I write?

Making sure I do not wander

Making my schedule really tight

I need someone to bother me

Have you done it yet?

Which story do I ask them?

The one I told you pet!

Oh OK you see, I wandered

I did this instead you see

Now haven’t I always told you?

To focus on A first then B?

Ah, yes, sorry dear

I will try my best

Yes you will or I will nag

I need that kind of friend, a person with zest

So where are you friend I need?

The one who will make sure that I will bleed

Every little ounce of my blood

Onto the paper in a creative flood

A story that I’ve started to end

All because of that elusive friend

Where are you friend?

Please come quick, I need these stories to end

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Stop pestering the fruit fairies!

No I will not stop picking cherries off the tree

They are so delicious, I want more you see

No I won’t share my cherries from the tree

If you want some, go and pick them yourself lazy

No I won’t let you have a tiny, tinsy bite

If you try again, I will fight!

No you can’t take the apples either

They are all mine, I picked them yesterday and for dinner I will dine

Yes you can take those peaches, take them clean away

Because I have a friend who will hate me if they stay

I am not a selfish fairy; I work hard for my food

I think if you keep trying to take, I think you rather rude!

I think you should work hard, for what you want my dear

Stop pestering others, it isn’t nice to hear

Now go on away my love, go and pick your own

Because I am getting tired of your needful groans!

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Filed under Poems S - U