Tag: writing

Blog, Questions & Prompts, Writing from the Core

Writing from the Core Day 4

Yesterday was hectic! Sorry about the missing post, y’all. I didn’t get writing done on the Day 3 prompt either, because I was swamped with school work, so here it is: Day 3’s prompt was “Write a memory relating to your chosen topic. No analysis. Write it as if you are there.” I’m not sure how I will write about this in the context of my chosen topic (touch aversion and PTSD), but I’ll wing it and figure something out.

As for today, the prompt is: I miss you. This one will probably be at least partly about my dad—I’ve been processing a lot of thoughts and feelings about him and my PTSD lately; in fact, that was the basis of my Camp NaNoWriMo project last month.

I’m gonna play catch up tonight, after my midterm presentation. I need to sit down and write, but I’m feeling kind of stumped. Hopefully I can break through that today.

 

Is there someone you miss that you haven’t been able to write to or about? Maybe write them a letter today—even if you can’t or won’t send it, writing things down might help. (If it’s a father, check out dear Gerald; I sent my letter in yesterday.)

 

Previous posts: Day 1 • Day 2

Blog, Questions & Prompts, Writing from the Core

Writing from the Core Day 2

Yesterday was the start of the Writing from the Core 21 day challenge.

After I got the prompt, I procrastinated on writing. I felt apprehensive about actually writing about my topic, so instead I checked my Facebook notifications, then my email, then I wrote a blog post, and then I went out to get burgers and ice cream. Then, I checked Facebook again. But I knew it was time to stop stalling, so I wrote.

It was hard. I wrote explicitly about things I don’t usually. I thought about touches that bothered me, and when and how and why. I thought about partners I’d had and the behaviours I exhibited in those relationships. I wrote it down, nervous and uncomfortable. They can never see this, I thought. It’ll only hurt them.

This exercise is seriously uncomfortable. As I’m writing, just thinking about this trauma around touch is making me itchy. I don’t want to do it. But I need to.

Today’s prompt is: Do they mean me harm? The obvious answer is no, they don’t; yet, my feelings are too complicated for that level of simplicity. And that’s why I’m grateful for this experience.

It’s called a challenge for a reason. It’s not meant to be easy.

 

Is there something challenging you right now? Is it time to confront it?

 

 

Previous posts: Day 1

Blog, Questions & Prompts, Writing from the Core

Writing from the Core Day 1

I signed up for a 21 day writing challenge being put on by writer and artist Lisa Hsia, called Writing from the Core. The purpose is to pick a topic that you’ve always had trouble writing about, and then write about it. Every day, participants will receive a prompt in their email to write about, free of judgement, to try and push past the blocks set up in our own minds about these touchy subjects.

When I signed up for this, I cast about for a topic to write about. What would be hard, but not too hard, that I feel like I need to write about, and that I could write about for this? Eventually, I settled on writing about touch: being touched and how I touch other people as a survivor of sexual trauma living with PTSD. Hard, right? But it didn’t seem too hard. (Check out that self-delusion…)

This morning, the first prompt arrived in my inbox: When did you first notice the pain? I had forgotten exactly what I planned to write about, and I went back to my initial email to check: touch, sexual trauma, PTSD. I put the topic and the prompt into a Word doc, and looked at them together.

Whoa, I thought, nope. That’s not gonna happen. That’s a terrible idea! What on earth was I thinking?! I can’t write about that.

And I saw it happening. The thoughts spun out instantly; I felt the fear and panic creeping in. And that’s when I knew I had to write about it, because that fear’s been holding me back. I’m going to do this. I’m going to conquer this fear, and write about this challenge, and I’m going to be open and honest and authentic. I’ll write about this, and I’ll be okay. It’s time to get started.

But first, I’m going to get a quart of chocolate ice cream. I need self care for the ride.

 

Is there something that’s been holding you back? Think about why. Then, make art. Draw or write. Create.

Blog, NaNoWriMo

Camp NaNoWriMo Stats: Midway

Well, that’s the halfway point. Here’s a screen cap of my stats on the Camp site, as of midnight of the 15th:

Not too shabby, huh? My cabin is oddly silent (hit me up if you have an active cabin open for one more member!), but I’m plugging along. I’m in Washington DC until tomorrow night, so I’m not sure how much writing I’m going to get done, but I purposefully have been keeping ahead of my goal, just in case something like this happened, so I’m not going to worry too much about it.

Also, Washington DC! This is the best. I love it here. (Even if it’s really awfully humid…)

Pictures are going up on Instagram, if you’d like to see what I’m up to.

Blog, NaNoWriMo

Camp NaNoWriMo July 2014!

If you follow me on other social media, you may be aware that I’m participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this month, with the aim to produce roughly 40,000 words of poetry and memoir.

I started out planning to just put  together a volume of poetry and essays, but one of the essays spiralled and expanded, and now I appear to be writing a memoir, which is a big departure from my previous writing. I’ve done some research and talked to other writers, and I have sort of mapped my course, based on their advice: I’m going to write down everything I remember—the piece will cover my feelings about my father from two years before he died to about a decade later.

A lot of this is stuff I’ve probably needed to write about for a long time. I’ve been trying to sit in my feelings when they come up, all the nostalgia and tears, and allow myself to feel them and remember. I don’t like crying (as a result of how much I did for years after he passed), so this has been a challenge, but it’s one worth taking on, if only for the potential closure.

Once I’ve gotten all my thoughts and recollections out, I’m going to read through all of my poetry and journal entries from that time, and then I’m going to interview my mother, other family members, and family friends who were adults when I was a child to see where my account differs from theirs, and either confirm or disprove some of my thoughts. Again, these are conversation I’ve probably been needing to have for a long time, and I’m making the opportunity to do it now.

Hopefully, I’ll come out of the month with at least 40,000 words written, and the beginnings of a publishable piece on childhood grief and its effects on adulthood, as experienced by me. If you’re interested in daily word count updates, you can follow those on my Twitter, and I’ll be sharing some resources and interesting info on my Tumblr. Comment if you’re participating—I’d love to hear what others are working on!

Blog

Launching the Good Ship Lollipop?

A new blog: crisp and clean and blank. How exhilarating!

How terrifying.

I’ve come out of NaNoWriMo 2013 with a big old pile of words, roughly assembled in a working document. Now, edits and revision will take over the bulk of my time. I’m participating in Lulu.com’s all new Wrimo Accelerator, which means once I’ve got the last two or three scenes written in, I can send it to them for review. I’ve got a beta reader lined up after that, and the month of December to take feedback and start the second draft.

I may have to change from third person to first. I may have to change from past to present tense. I may have to replace or combine or do away with characters. I almost certainly have to drop or overhaul the snippets of myth interspersed in the narrative. So much may change before I’m done with revisions, and some of that process may spill over onto this blog.

Ideally, I’ll be updating here once a week. I want to get a post up each Wednesday morning. Topics will range all over the place, I’m sure — next week you can read about why I think diversity in YA matters.

Until next time,

Tessara