The weariness, the heaviness

The weariness, the heaviness
the weeping of my veins

The bloodshed, the torment
The broken love and decay

© 2013

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Going slow…

… but getting there.

Just hit 80,000 words!!! recently (for novel number two, Wings of Malice), but the end feels so very far away. High fives for now though 🙂

I’m aiming for 120,000 words (but that’s not set in stone. Anywhere between 80k and 120k is perfect), and although I’m still technically on the first draft, I have edited the manuscript so many times, it feels as though I’m into draft two or three at least. Right now I’m filling in all the blanks, trying to join chapters together, and get everything all fluid, before getting right into editing (well, more editing than I’m currently doing… It will be the ACTUAL editing process). Dreaditing?

It has been difficult working on such a large document, and I prefer to be able to see everything right in front of me, but printing out pages (or the whole manuscript) is starting to become a real pain, both physically and financially. There must be a better way.

I wish I knew the secret formula for all of this!

Deadline is coming up soon.. eeee! But it’s going to get done. No problem…

Although…

…I’ve discovered the best form of distraction. I’m cat-sitting a little black kitty at the moment, and she demands all the attention. She won’t let me write! I’m calling this, ‘proCATination‘, a rite of passage for all aspiring authors.

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This book writing thing could take longer than I initially thought 😛

Justine – work in progress

Virtue cries
as it weakens to vice
And she falls…
to her own grotesque sin
of growing pride;
the vain delight in her purity.

Her penitence cannot win
against a sinful world.

Justine’s prize
taken; a price
She feels…
everything.

She winces, she cries
And forced lone into the night
But lost Justine, she’s found again
And taken to that domain;
to a fate before the gallows
to a fate preordained.

But for the moment she is saved
A fire stole away her death
and so she holds her breath,
awaiting her next moral decay…

…when she is next enslaved.

Probing her innocence
and tearing her faith
to bleed her rue…
for her insolence.
Searing flesh beneath the brand
bones cracking under their hand
Dehumanised, she feels…
it all.

“Death!” she cries but her God has fled
and no mercy granted in the rueful bed.

Broken womanhood, and she…
sullied from within.
Ruined innocence, and she…
victim of their original sin.

The death of her,
body and mind
ever-agonising;
her whole life defined
and to an end
unseen by her.

Never again to win against;
her fate preordained.

© 2016

Save Australian literature!

So comely, the sirens mourn – work in progress

So comely, the sirens mourn
turned to ash and shadows
spirits of their loves gone.

Caged, they dwell within
the prison of the mind
So oft at war, a damning sin.

The melancholy maladies
surge and erupt
attuned to these tragedies.

Atropine-tainted shadows
they linger, striated
tracing veins in throes.

Through distant memories;
whispering to one then
echoing into melodies

And mad maledictions
pictures of mental anguish
staining all convictions.

Forever frozen as pewter flakes
Begone! but they live as cries
each time she lies awake
each time she closes her eyes

© 2016

Inspiration

There are a few things that are vital to my writing process. These include: an awesome environment, coffee, and music.

I may have recently purchased a pile of CDs… just letting you know 😉

 

I wander into darkness

I wander into darkness
as it is the only way I know
I bury my love inside
the wounds
the heart
Scorned
A piercing taste
of passion
misery
and end
Flightless
scoring flesh
and choking the core
Withering away
within
without
Desire severed

© 2016