If you want to work on your art, work on your life. – Chekov.

I love writing and I love singing. I love going through things in life and building a bank of different experiences so that I can talk about them in my works. I love that each and every single day, all that I go through I am thinking about how I can turn that experience into a story; song, poem, short story, novel…anything. Sometimes however I get so consumed in my work I forget how to live. The works I create take on a life of their own and so consume mine that I need to remind myself to live again.

We are quickly approaching a new year and I am thinking about ways I can push and challenge myself. Ways I can step outside of my comfort zone…I’ll keep you posted.

Please do also let me know of anything you have been through or tried that has really changed or challenged you. I love hearing from you guys.

NMx

Writing is a battle.

I am in the process of editing my novella and found myself in a war against myself. Each time I open the file a new battle ensues. There have been several battles so now I believe the right term for this ongoing conflict is a war. There is the odd saying that in order to have peace you need to fight the war. I know exactly what that means now. It is funny because the more I write, the more I see how the actual process of writing reflects the conflicts and growing phases we find ourselves in within our own lives.

For example at first I saw my manuscript as my baby. I am not a parent yet but I have younger siblings and even helping to raise them has given me some heartache that should get me a noble peace prize! Helping a younger person grow takes a lot of patience, a readjusting of mindset, tact, trying to see things from their point of view and a whole load of wisdom and life experience. I find it is the same with a novel. You are trying to create a work that will take on a voice and life of its own. While you try and nurture it, you can find that your voice begins to strangle its life and need to step back. You want to tell it what to say but ultimately know that the most powerful mode of communicating is to show.

…So the fight begins: your words want to communicate in one way, and your mind is telling you needs to be said in another way. But how?

Writing is such a battle.

Originality is not seen in single words or even sentences.

Often times we get ourselves in such a pickle trying to be original. How many times have you gone to write or type a sentence but stopped yourself because it is ‘not original enough’. Now I am not for one second advocating a story or poem composed of worn out, tired old clichés. What I am saying is that being original is not as hard as we would like to make out. For example you and I have different life experiences, perspectives and ways of seeing. Therefore for me to write or put together a work that is different from yours, I simply have to be me. My own bias, prejudice and stereotypes will be woven into my work without me knowing because I am doing what I can do best, thinking as me.

I love that literature and the arts do not require us to be someone else in order for our works to be considered great. Instead I believe as writers and artist we should simply strive to tell our stories well. We should be aiming to get our readers and spectators to magically step inside our minds for a couple of minutes and see what we saw. It is my aim as a writer to impact my readers’ view of the world. I do not expect them to finish my story or poem and be a carbon copy of me. No. Instead I want them to be challenged to think differently, question what they thought was the norm and do what is so rarely done in this day and age; to think and feel.

That is my original.

“Originality is not seen in single words or even sentences. Originality is the sum total of a man’s thinking or his writing.” – Isaac Bashevis Singer

p.s. I am holding a ‘Write You’ webinar this Friday. Click to find more info: www.nissiknows.wordpress.com

Mirror Monologues…cont: Morning Dance & My Truth

The morning dance:

A long time ago I came to the realization that I could create and re – create myself each and every time I looked in the mirror.
Ponytail, middle part, afro thrown back, which one do I choose?
My world of possibilities starts the minute I look at me.
From the time I open my eyes and step out of bed, approach my mirror, unwrap my hair… I have a choice: who do I want to be today?
My mind dances out of the door watching myself as down the street I go.
Should I dress to strut like a vixen? Or creep through town with peep toes – smitten?
Take a run and conquer the world? Or flip flop in sandles and pay no attention?
I am a woman with possibilities.
That tops a bit low and I wonder where mens eyes’ll go
But with the polo neck I’ll look like a saint, I don’t want that – nah no.
With a strapless my arms are out, if it gets cold, I’ll regret that.
A shirts too regal it’ll shut them down.
Today’s a dress day I think
- Long just past the knee, waist pulled in, neck pretty.
I’m saying I am happy to be a lady and do what men can’t do.
I’m all for equality and love being a woman too.
It’s a man’s world – the dress says I don’t care,
I don’t have to dress cold and everywhere I go glare.
I am free spirited.
I am saying I have nothing to prove
I’ve reduced economics and the world to just me and you
Dress or no dress (well not like that)
I’m saying I like me and I don’t care if you’re not fine with that.
…It takes more than a second to dress you know
You’re thinking, you debate all this in the morning before you go?
Well yea – everyone thinks about the back story don’t they.
Let’s be honest, nobody just looks and sees a person.
What do you think when you look at me?

My Truth:

I can’t explain using words but I try anyway because they are the closest thing I can use to breakdown the breaks in communication we have.
There are many intonations, indentations, variations and complications in our world – I said ours – yes.
My world only exists to me and I want you to be able to see through the pearl white, jet black dimples I use to light up the streets and cast un identical shadows creating custom silhouettes that tell a story only I can read and so you see I am your translator.
You think you understand but you don’t and never will.
All you have is what I tell you and if not believed only casts huge, opaque, web like structures over humanity as you perceive and everywhere you go like a buzzing bee will appear a lie.

Writing and self: Will I ever completely know myself?

According to Scottish philosopher David Hume, man could only have a limited knowledge of himself. I came across this theory whilst looking over some of my old university notes and began to think about my writing. I write to get a better understanding of my thoughts, feelings and how they fit into the world I live in. Both reading and writing opens my mind to different possibilities and by looking at other people’s opinions on a subject matter, I am able to review my own thoughts. However Hume’s theory made me think a little deeper in terms of how much my writing and reading helps me to know myself. Will I ever completely have a full understanding of who I am?

“poetry is the language of the imagination” – William Hazlitt

The great English critic and essayist William Hazlitt described poetry as “the language of the imagination”. For the past few days I have posted some poems from my ‘Mirror Monologues’ short poetry collection. The poems have looked at my intimate thoughts I have when I am by myself and reflecting on the person I am and want to be. Posting the poems reminded me of an assignment I had whilst studying for my BA in English Literature. Part of my Romantics module was to look at the role of imagination in poetry. The Romantics believed in communicating the raw thoughts and feelings of man to poetry; an organic poetry reflective of the actual feelings of humankind. Unlike the enlightenment period beforehand, Romanticism was more concerned with authenticity as opposed to simply writing the reasonable thoughts and what society wanted you to think and write. The Romantics did however still place a focus on poetic form and meter.

I fell in love reading the poetry of Wordsworth, Keats and Coleridge because of their beautiful associations between nature and humankind. I remember being encouraged in my own poetic pursuits and the need to express myself authentically. It was encouraging to know that greats before me also had certain preconceptions and poetic ‘to do’s’ that they had to overcome in order to write poetry they felt reflected their state of mind and heart. This post is to encourage you to push boundaries and especially write the things you are scared of. The process of writing the Mirror Monologues has been incredibly healing and woke me up to ideas I had of myself that I was unaware of.

The poet has the amazing ability to put thoughts, feelings and crazy mind ramblings into a format someone else can read, understand and empathise with. I believe all of us have the ability to write poetry because we all have imaginations. Use it!

Private moment poetry: Mirror Monologues cont…

IdENTITY:
The cut of your body,
The dips in your arms,
The chisel of your face,
Your manly charm
Do not suffice as strength.
The curve of your figure,
The pull of your lips,
The shine of your eyes
Your womanly hips
Do not personify weak.
Physicality is shallow
And sex misleading,
Diluted by years of confusion and people pleasing.
We are born into a body defining a large part of our being,
Yet instead of going to the maker we idolise other
Fallen beings?
Man is unified,
Created solely to reflect God’s image
Not some being oppressed
And others oppressing
Creating a distorted, shattered image.
Your reverence of God
Your humility in Christ
Your acceptance of grace
And your spirit filled life
Epitomize strength.

Comfort Zone:

I open my mouth and only tell you half of the story,
half of the truth,
give you half of me.
Wanting to give my all, wanting to set me free –
Entrap myself in you…
I give you half of me.
Feelings of guilt when we collide
and I know it’s to do with what’s on my inside,
In my mind,
To do with how time passed me by; treated me in life…
I give you half of me.
I know I love you,
Know it’s you I want to be with,
To stop being scared of you completely knowing me –
Let my guard down and still know you love me…
I give you half of me
I can’t give you my heart – it’s too precious.
For you to know the hidden depths in me: my passions, my desires,
The things I want to someday set free.
They say eyes are the window to the soul,
Exposing the deepest thoughts of the face they behold…

I can look you in the face and lie.
Don’t believe that lie.

I can’t give you my heart.

Woman

I want my kindness to break you’re heart in pieces
And rebuild it with a layer that’s transparent;
Able to absorb love.
I want my actions to speak to your situations,
Breathing healing into the bitterness you’re entrenched in;
Touching your soul and triggering positive feelings.
Feelings so intense you allow tears to flow,
Taken aback by the fact that I truly love you,
And it’s as plain as that.
I want each word that passes my lips to plant a seed of life,
Amidst terrible situations – strife.
When you feel you can’t survive,
And your manhood’s being attacked from all sides:
Kneeling, broken, spiritually feeling like you’ve died.
I want to be the woman you come to,
Gaining strength to rise.