It's not my Bad Poetry this time --- Not Exactly

White Mountains of New Hampshire
S.E.Hudnall 2014 

That's correct. This isn't my "bad poetry". I was in New England this spring, having a grand old time and, yes, writing in my little spiral notebook. I knew I was going to be bringing back "bad poetry".

But this one, while written there, isn't really mine. It was my notebook. I held the pen. But it's really Desiree's. It's her poem. Who is Desiree? My female protagonist in Snow.

Honor for Sale

They're selling honor and glory on the street corner,
Hawking them like precious wares.
And the price---the rock bottom price
Is the blood of your fathers, sons, and brothers
A few hundred body bagsT
Caskets to be unloaded on a western dock
A sister's tears--- a father's aching emptiness
A mother's son-less arms
A future caught in crossfire on a rice field
The skein of brightness, love, and laughter
Cut by a sniper's bullet---no Fates involved.

They're selling honor and glory on the street corner
Special offer today
Death half off or two for one
Your choice of bargains.

Elizabeth Desiree Williams

 

 



They say there's a little bit of yourself in every character you create. I'll say "Amen" to that. I can't deny it. But it's never more than just a piece or two. Desiree, quite obviously, is the poet of the bunch. And also writes 'bad poetry'.  

Electrifying. . .Terrifying: The Road to Indie Publishing

I'm scared. . .almost to the point of pure terror. How's that for a confession? I emailed a PDF file I formatted and designed of Rain to two people, both who have been super supportive and helpful (weak word) of me and the book. It was a very personal edition as I did it strictly for them, even designed the front and back covers myself. As yet I don't know what they thought of it. I wrote that I was not expecting any critique or feedback from them on the current edited copy I used. But knowing the ways of one of them I believe I will get some there.

You see I've decided to publish Rain independently and electronically. I don't know how long it is going to take me. There is a lot I need to figure out. My personal goal? I'd like to have it out within the next fourteen days, a purely arbitrary deadline as I have no idea what I'm doing.

Dozens of sites are out there loaded with advice and how-to's but a simple checklist is hard to find. Something simple like this (which is far from inclusive or even in the correct order) :

1. Finish editing.
2. Send to copyright office
3. Get IBSN number
4. Find cover artist.
5. Format for electronic upload by doing the following (step by step instructions which are no more than two sentences long)

I'm finding most of the "lists" and "advice" overwhelming right now when I want all I want is a simple list I can check off as I go. Details I can go back for.

Maybe this is a case of "if you want it, you should write it." The idea does get me thinking. Not all of us process information in the same way. Perhaps I will journal my experience (away from this blog) and comeback with a list of my own.

Every journey begins with a single step.

 

Yeah, nice platitude, Shelia. And what if you're standing on a drop-off, huh?

July. . .and the Bad Poetry Continues

Lupines and Daisies: New Hampshire
2014

 

"And it was summertime, glorious summer."

The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Anderson

 

 

Morning Music

I.
Outside my window
Green darkness, raindrops singing,
Inside, cats amok.

No space sacred, bounding off
Couches, chairs, and each other.

II.
In five second bursts
Then suddenly all is still
But the rain still sings.

Note by note on glass it falls
A contralto voice. Slow. Soft.
 

 

Strawberry Moon over Manchester, NH 2014


 

 

Sleeping Dreams

 

Put your dreams to sleep.

They'll find no purchase here.

Better they sleep and not remember,

The clouds dancing by with gray mouse feet.

 

Let them dream their own dreams.

Have they really been yours?

Did you dream them or did others?

So hard to see even in moonlight.

 

Put your dreams to sleep.

Blanket them with clouds.

Soothe them with falling rain.

They will forget. . . they will.

 

 

 

 Daisies

 

Daisies in a glass

Standing soldiers on parade

In bright uniforms

 

Warm pink and orange listeners

To our laughing discourse

 



 

 



In case you're coming in late and missed it, yes, I consider all of my poetry--bad poetry. Only in the last poetry post have I labeled it "bad poetry". The label on all the other poetry is simply "poetry". The reason I call it "bad poetry" can be found here.

Writing the Ending

I know this blog is a bit self-centered. I'm working on it but it seems to want to remain that way. It can't be a writing advice blog or a publishing advice blog. One would need some form of expertise in those areas. All I have is opinion, generally based on what I read in those types of writing blogs. All that remains is what I write and what I discover, sometimes just by playing with an idea.

"I don't plot," she said for what seemed like the hundredth time. "But it doesn't mean I don't know where I'm going, even if it takes me a couple of chapters to discover specifics."

So today I am going to play a little game. I'm going to write a couple of final scenes I already know. No character names included. It may be spoiler-ish but who knows? These are not final. They're rough drafts. Things could change.