February is the worst month...

I know. January is usually my worst month, and it was pretty dire, but February is giving it a run for it's money this year. Maybe it's just another of those age things, you know? The older you get the creakier your bones, the worse your eyesight, the longer it takes to get up out of a chair, for wounds to heal, and maybe for the January blues to clear.
Maybe it's because we haven't had a proper winter this year...hardly any frost, no snow to speak of, just lots of greyness and rain. Or maybe it's because this year, more than any other, I simply fail to see a light at the end of the tunnel, no silver linings, no brightside. I always see a brightside, even - or maybe especially - when others can't. Don't get me wrong, I am sure there is one, I just can't see it yet. Maybe March will be my month. That's a lot of maybes.

February is Post-It Note Poetry Month. I have been looking forward to it for a while - it always cheers me up and gets me writing - usually badly but that doesn't matter. The important thing is to be writing. Plus it is good for my succinct style. It is perhaps a testament to my state of mind this February that in 11 days I have posted just 3 poems. Massive fail. Something must be done - not sure what yet, but for sure it must.

For now, I leave you with today's post-it poem. It's not great but I quite like it and writing and posting it made me feel better.

I hadn't intended such an introspective post to break the block, sorry about that. Onwards and upwards, as they say.

Bank Holiday Blues

I really don't like Bank Holidays. They sweep in with promises of activity and days out and good times but they never live up to expectation. In fact I can't remember the last time a Bank Holiday (Christmas not included - that's a whole other ball game) included a fun day out. I am therefore, as usual, home alone doing desultry housework, and trying to write something.
And I do have a project to write for...Crossing The Tees Festival mini project on breaking barriers and crossing boundaries. I have a story half written. It needs some work to beat it into shape.
I also have a poem to work on. That's a much more slippery piece. Tricksy. So it has been relegated to the "Look At Later" pile.

In the meantime, between loading the washer and washing the pots, I have drunk way to much coffee and written a six word story about waiting...
 ...and a Last Line First story about noise.
I'm now considering 75 words for Paragraph Planet.
Oh...and I've written a blog post...So. There you go. Productive Bank Holiday fun. Hope you're enjoying yours.

A poem a day keeps the word doctor away.

It feels like I am barely out of Post-It Note Poetry and now we have NaPoWriMo.
I struggled to write a poem a day that would fit on a post-it note and now here I am contemplating another daily challenge.
I very much doubt I will stay on target, but I miss the focus of being required to write something. Mr Malone and the rest of the Heugh Writers gang will no doubt laugh...or at least smile wryly at that. Like I managed to even produce a poem a month for that project! But, as I told Martin, it wasn't that I wasn't writing anything, it was simply that I was too terrified to hand over my few meagre words.
Strangely, despite all my doubts, it seems that people like my meagre words. Either that or they are being very polite.
But I digress!
My point was, I need something tangible to focus on. Someone - or something - to say, "Here, Denise, write about this today". And so, for my sins and for the salvation of my writer's soul, I am signing up to write a poem a day. Again.
Lord knows where I will find the time or the words. But perhaps the writing gods will be merciful and send down manna from heaven.

There now follows a Shameless Plug on behalf of the Heugh Writers Party!

I should say, on behalf of the poets from the Heugh Writers, copies of 'To Cross the Wine Dark Wave' are available to purchase from Hartlepool Libraries. A snap at £4 - cheques payable to Hartlepool Borough Council. 
Ta very much.

/Shameless plug ends!

And if you're interested in the Post-It Note poems you can read them here https://guerillawriting.wordpress.com

Challenges

I've neglected my blog again.
Well, not quite true. I have been visiting it, like a sick Auntie in a hospital, and peering at the stats, and feeling slightly amazed that it is still breathing. People are still coming in and looking at bits of it. So I've been scrolling through the old posts to see what they looked at, and thinking I really should add something new. I have even opened the "new post" tab. And I have stared at the big white space and that blinking little cursor. "Go on!" it blinked, "Type something...I dare you! Type, type, type..." A flickering black line whispering its mockery. And my words dried up. My thoughts disappeared. It's like magic. Really, it is. Stage magicians can make a woman disappear. A blinking cursor and a blank screen can make a brain disappear. But this magic is not real. It's just a trick. A sleight of hand. The brain is still there and it is still full of words. All it needs is for some rogue child to pull back the curtain and reveal all to the audience.

My rogue children currently come in the form of two challengers. They have crept in and twitched back the curtain.
First and most public is Natalie Bowers who started "Last Line First". A weekly flash writing challenge that I am trying to keep up with. I am failing miserably at it, but it's fun! I was fortunate enough to have a last line intriguing enough to be chosen for the challenge in week 4. Hence my lovely badge of honour which you can see on the right (Unless you're on a mobile device, in which case take my word for it, it's lovely!). We're on week eight now and I have just submitted again. (Told you I was failing at it!)
My second challenger is not quite so public, a personal challenge from a friend who pokes me, tuts at me, scolds me and makes me write. He fires random challenges to make me think, make me seek out the words and thoughts and find a way to get them onto the blank page. I don't always do what he tells me, but I do listen. He might not realise that, so hopefully this will serve to let him know his scolding is doing some good!
You can read the fruit of his four word challenge here, if you're so inclined and feel free to leave a comment.

The hardest part is often just daring to put a word - any word - onto the white page. Once a word is on there the page is not so white, not so blank, and not so scary. And if it turns out to be not quite the right word, I can always replace it with another...and another and another...and before I know it I've written something and there's a new post on my blog. Watch this space. The words are flowing again and Auntie Blog is feeling better.

Location Location Location

During my usual desultory Saturday morning Facebook and Twitter trawl, I came across a last call tweet for submissions to a geo-writing project in Brighton. Not having heard of geo-writing before I followed the link and discovered an interesting idea, and better still, I didn't actually have to be in Brighton to join in (not that there's anything at all wrong about being in Brighton, but I am 350 miles north of it and unlikely to be able to pop down to find a prompt....)
My own writing has been languishing in the doldrums lately so I was surprised to sense a little inner flutter of interest as I read about the project. Location inspired writing is sort of what got me started (see my Flashing post). So I clicked on the prompt and amazingly the flutter turned into a steady pulse...the prompt had immediately prompted an idea. The resulting short has been sent off - with a little trepidation. The rules say I don't have to be in Brighton to join in, but it does seem a little bit cheeky. I'm not in the location, and if you know me at all or have read any more of my blog, you will know I don't actually consider myself to be a writer. Double cheek!
The geo writing project ends on the 30th Sept so you could still join in if you are quick....only 50-250 words.
I will post my little offering here shortly - cutting and pasting in the Blogger app on my phone would try the patience of a saint. In the meantime I'd like to say thanks to these guys for getting my meagre creative juices flowing again:
http://www.geo-writing.com/index.htm

The writing by other contributors can be read here http://www.geo-writing.com/writing.php


Post Script:
As promised here is my meagre offering.

LOCATION: Carden Park

PROMPT: A woman in her 80s is asking people whether they have seen the aliens

Have you seen them?
Have you seen them?
Over and over, she asked, her quavering voice rising in agitation. Arthritic fingers clutching anxiously at their sleeves, hands, bags.
You must have seen them?
They were meant to be here. Meant to be here.
Meant to take me with them this time.
Promised me.
Promised.

People saw her, heard her desperate pleading, gave her a wide birth, hoping to avoid any awkwardness. They had seen nothing. Shaking their heads and looking away, they scurried past, not wishing to become involved.
Doubtless someone would come for her soon.
Safely inside their cloaked ship the aliens watched and waited.