I have secrets like each of you. But do you share your secrets?
I have been getting quite depressed lately. Yes, the “D” word, the one we are not supposed to talk about. The one that our world shuns even though many of our loved ones are lying in its puddle day after day. Not quite drowning, just lying there in angst. I wrote a short story today about it all and submitted it to a publication, probably only to get rejected but that’s another story for another day. This morning I sat out on my porch and read a book I got from the library, Secret Window: Essays and Fiction on the Craft of Writing by Stephen King. It’s inspiring to say the least. I want to go to his home in Maine and stare between the bars of his steel black fence. I want to haunt him the way his stories haunt me. Is that creepy? The really great news is I have been creating more than all the years added together. Whatever that means. I also received my first portrait commission ever. An achievement in the art world similar to getting an interview for a job. It makes me happy and that’s really all I could ask for. Let’s see, what else? I am writing again after burn out. I often feel burn out. I don’t know if it’s an artist thing, a creator thing, but I get into fits of creativity and it just pours out of him uncontrollably then it’s like I’ve been hit by a truck and I am laid out for days, sometimes weeks, and even months. It’s as if everything was sucked out of me and the only way to recharge is to sleep. I cycle. I write, paint, read, all obsessively until I break. I repair and continue. I do this all while working a day job, being a mom, a wife and trying to live healthily. Everyone and no one is doing the same thing. Or doing nothing. Sometimes I get headaches that last days. Sometimes I feel on top of the world. I want to keep these short for you, in the midst of your busy life. I need to go work on this commission piece. I will share progress photos along the way. Happy Sunday (to you and your Sunday secrets...) By the way, tell me one secret. -Sterp
0 Comments
Warning: This blog has spoilers throughout and is meant for an audience who has either seen Scream 5 or does not mind spoilers.
As you’re reading this, what if there was a masked killer on the loose, sneaking around your neighborhood, killing, peering through your window, and watching you as you sit in the single place that provides you the most comfort and protection. Timing is inevitable in a slasher world where the victims have zero control of when and where the killer will strike next. To honor this, I am going to save you a lengthy memoir of my life story and how Scream has impacted my life, blah blah blah, before the masked killer calls you or knocks at your door. Scream 5, one of the best in the series and my second favorite, my first favorite being Scream 1. Why?
I loved Scream 5. I think it did everything right, it represented under-represented groups without being forced or disingenuous. It kicked ass and for us die hard fans, it perfectly connected to the first Scream. “Hello Sydney, it’s an honor.” And an honor it was indeed. Thanks for reading, Sterp I edited my second book the other night for seven hours straight. In the end, I was nauseous and at that point only sleep would help.
No one said writing books would be easy. I guess this is part of it. The writer takes on the suffering, hardships, and victories of their characters. It’s emotionally and physically exhausting, but for a writer, it’s an absolute necessity to live. Like breathing. The irony here: for many of us, writing can be therapeutic, but as we shed our skin of our own experiences we take on the new ones of our characters, all imagined by us from the beginning. It’s like being cleansed but using the exact thing we want to be cleansed of to cleanse ourselves. I felt nauseous the other night. I wrote about death, dark corners that exist in evil minds, sorrow and yet I never felt more proud and motivated after those seven hours. I feel my craft pumping through my veins and getting stronger every minute, every hour that I spend with it. Like any art, like any craft, it stretches at your heart. It can drive you insane. But who wants to live any other way? So there I lay ready to sleep, queasy, with a smile on my face. -Sterp Title: Lipstick Red Neon
Red, red neon Those dark tunnel hallways Those psychedelic dreamscapes Breathing breath takers Give me goosebumps as I sweat Walk by whispers wisp past my hair Red, red neon Barely lit street corners Those inside pockets pass Those worlds of rhythm dance out of car windows Dirty street corners that rot and laugh But there I stand I stand I stand Red, red neon A forever night that will not see sunlight That moonlit sky speaks in another tongue Those lights are different inside the dark Lipstick cheeks behind windows This world of one and only nights Written by Stephanie Evelyn aka Sterp |
Categories
All
PODCASTS I LISTEN TO EVERYDAY |