Thursday, February 24, 2022

Make It Happen Thursday: How Writing Prompts Help Me Create

 

Image by marijana1 from Pixabay

I wrote this post for Make It Happen Thursday at Go Dog Go Cafe.


My shout-out is for Ingrid Wilson of Earthweal for her thoughtful poetics and prompts. 


The problem with creating poetry or stories for publication with anyone but Naughty Netherworld Press is that most of the time it needs to be previously unpublished, and that includes on a personal blog. This leads me to my thoughts for breaking out of writer's block.

If it wasn't for writing prompts, I might get nothing written. Writing prompts help me focus my wandering thoughts. I like to acknowledge the prompt's creator even when I can't immediately share what the prompt inspired.

Recent events have reminded me that writing poetry before I work on anything else helps me calm my mind and focus. But before even writing poetry, I like to look at my planner to remind me of what the day's focus will be. Currently, my everyday planner looks like this:

Week At A Glance

My World Monday + Promote Yourself Monday

Rhyme Time Tuesday (doesn’t have to rhyme) + Review It Tuesday

Tuesday Events: MFRW Steam is the 2nd Tuesday of each month.

Wednesday Edits

Wednesday Events: IWSG is 1st Wednesday of the month, MFRW Retweet Day is 2nd Wednesday.

Take a Chance Thursday/Make It Happen Thursday (pieces for submission, review the current week’s progress, and plan for next week. Visit Go Dog Go Café to participate in Make It Happen Thursday.) Thirsty Thursday for self-promo. MFRW Book Retweet Day is the 3rd Thursday of every month.

Flash Fiction Friday, Fanfic Friday

Sexy Saturday (erotica series) + Shameless self-Promo Saturday (submit my work to promo sites i.e. Awesome Gang.) + Social Media Saturday.

Change the World Sunday (poetry, pictures, and politics) + Sunday Dinner at the Grover Hotel.

Do ONE Book Hooks, ONE Rainbow Snippets, ONE Snippet Sunday, and ONE Weekend Writing Warriors every month. More than that is overwhelming.

Book Hooks: Week 1

MFRW Steam + Rainbow Snippets: Week 2

Snippet Sunday: Week 3

Weekend Writing Warriors: Week 4

 After decades of anxiety and self-retribution, I'm still learning to work with my unruly brain. It helps to understand some of the common features of ADHD, but my experiences are unique. I hope that perhaps some of my discoveries will help others avoid a lifetime of abuse and low self-esteem. 

I deliberately kept this post less sweary than is usual for this blog. I welcome return visits with the caveat that this is an uncensored space. The things I discuss may not be pretty and I tend to be quite liberal with expletives. 

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~



Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors

Music for the Post


Here is the link in case you can't see the player:

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp and Naughty Netherworld Press.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. Odysee’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on Odysee. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Come check out Readers Roost, the online book store featuring works by indie and small press authors. Discover your next great read at the Roost! It's the link you need when you wanna read.

Buy me a coffee

Or buy me a coffee here

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Wednesday, February 23, 2022

Where It's At Wednesday: Little Bites with Sensible Bunny

 


Greetings to my -666 fans! Meet Sensible Bunny, the newest member of the Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp.

Sensible Bunny takes little bites of both food and her to-do list because she doesn't like to choke on her food and she doesn't like to become overwhelmed by work, even when it's working towards a creative goal.

Sensible Bunny and I created a new daily planner for me. Today's task from 52 Weeks of Writing was to break my goals down further. Since I have a lot of goals, I've broken them down over the course of the week. The new planner looks a little bit something like this:

Week At A Glance

My World Monday

Rhyme Time Tuesday (doesn’t have to rhyme) + Review It Tuesday

Wednesday Edits

Take a Chance Thursday/Make It Happen Thursday (pieces for submission, review the current week’s progress, and plan for next week. Visit Go Dog Go Café to participate in Make It Happen Thursday.)

Flash Fiction Friday, Fanfic Friday

Sexy Saturday (erotica series)

Change the World Sunday (poetry, pictures, and politics) + Sunday Dinner at the Grover Hotel

This doesn't mean that I can't work on other projects on specified days. What it means is that since I have a lot of goals, I now have a day where I bring each one into focus. For instance, on My World Monday, I focus on my serials from my Universe (including certain borrowed characters.) The Mighty Adventures of Nyarlathotep and Yadira. The Perils of Gerry and Pepper. The Madcap Adventures of the Dreamlands Brotherhood. And so on.  

I've got a lot of 'em. I wish I'd thought of them twenty-five years ago. I will never finish this interconnected set of serials. They will continue on and on until the day that something stops working in this old body. Perhaps if the soul reincarnates, I will continue working on them in another life. Or perhaps I will instead run screaming away across the fields upon seeing one of my books and decide to work on something--anything--other than writing.

I have thus revealed that I believe reincarnation is a possibility. Or I hope it's a possibility. Or I'm a fatalist and suppose that it's probably what happens because I can't imagine the grind not continuing. The wheels of the gods grind slow but they grind exceeding fine and all that sort of thing.

I'm not here to convince anyone else to believe as I do or even suppose as I do, so I would appreciate if you do not presume it's your place to browbeat me into believing as you do, whether you believe that I'm going to hell for not being a devout fundamentalist Christian or whether you believe I'm stupid for postulating that reincarnation is a possibility. I'm not here to argue about theology. I'm simply expressing my thoughts on the matter. 

That being said, I like this simplified and catchy system, and if it helps me to imagine a friendly cartoon rabbit reminding me to implement it, that too is my business.

I've never understood why some people get so snifty about adults liking cartoons. I'm not saying that you have to like cartoons. Don't tell me I can't like them. It doesn't make a person more or less mature to like or not like cartoons. I find a character like Sensible Bunny appealing and comforting. Sensible Bunny would never berate or scold me the way my inner critic does. 

A person who does not have a history of being emotionally abused probably doesn't need a friendly cartoon support animal. This doesn't make the person who benefits from such a concept less worthy of respect or more deserving of ridicule. The people who think it does need to take a hard look at themselves and ask themselves why they see the need to be so mean-spirited to make themselves feel superior.

I have remembered that I always found writing poetry before I write anything else calming. I've done this over the past couple of days. I do not put any restrictions on my expression. It doesn't need to be the best poem in the world. I often confine myself to short forms because I have a tendency to run on otherwise. 

You know, ProWritingAid, some adjectives and adverbs are necessary. I don't ALWAYS confine myself to short poetry forms but I generally do. I changed the word to "often" instead, but fuck's sake. Sometimes these damn grammar checkers are irritating as fuck. 

Anyway...

Writing prompts are useful tools to prevent my mind from running amok. I haven't been able to share my recent creations with the writing prompt hosts because I am planning to submit the poems created over the next few days to Humana Obscura. Since I want to thank the prompt hosts for their help and want to let other writers know about the opportunity for publication, I leave a comment doing just that.

In fact, here you go. Don't say I never gave you anything.
It is freeze-your-tender-parts-off cold today. Our furnace runs on propane. Propane prices per gallon mirror gas (petrol) prices. We have a 1000-gallon tank. The propane company divides our fills into equal monthly payments rather than insisting on the entire payment up-front. Nonetheless, it's expensive. This month's bill was $225. 

The stove, water heater, washer, and dryer are all-electric. This month's bill was around $225, which is better than it was the first year we were here but still a big chunk of change for people living only on my $1240 per month disability check. It's actually $1380 per month but fucking United Healthcare takes away $140 of that for Medicare. Anything over $1308 means you're living too high on the hog, you disabled piece of shit. 

If you think I'm bitter about this Draconian system that comes nowhere close to covering the cost of living, I am. I speak not only for me but for those who have it worse than me. 

LEAP (Low-Income Energy Assistance Program) will give AmeriGas (the propane company) $500 sometime in the next couple of months. I don't know exactly when. They do it when they do it. It helps, but I'm pissed off because they gave us $1000 last time and only $500 this time. I suppose they don't have the funding to give as much. They rely on donations. 

Imagine that, a program that the government should run has to rely on donations so people don't freeze to death. Fucking hell. If anyone asks me why I'm a socialist regarding welfare programs, issues like this are why. 

I suppose I've gone on long enough. I'll probably pick this up again tomorrow, but as a wise man once said, tomorrow never knows.

I'm concerned about my only two friends. I've not heard much from either of them in quite a spell. I always worry that I've made people angry, but I suspect they aren't doing well. 

Spirit of the Universe, help me keep taking things one day at a time. Please help me remember that I don't need to measure up to anyone else's standards and please help me to be realistic in my standards for myself. I want to be challenged but not overwhelmed. Perhaps it will sound trite and unsophisticated, but let me know you are there and that you care. I often act like I'm an island, but I'm a lonelier island than I like to admit. Amen.

Ornery Owl is thanking Sensible Bunny for her assistance.


Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors

Resource Books:
52 Weeks of Writing

Self-Help Sucks

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp and Naughty Netherworld Press.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. Odysee’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on Odysee. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Come check out Readers Roost, the online book store featuring works by indie and small press authors. Discover your next great read at the Roost! It's the link you need when you wanna read.

Buy me a coffee

Or buy me a coffee here

Join me on Patreon!
Subscribe for as little as $1 per month.

Get the latest literary happenings and slices of life in your inbox! Now with an exciting new chapter or poem in every issue. You might end up with a one-of-a-kind rarity from the eldritch depths of the Netherworld!




 

Tuesday, February 22, 2022

Tackle It Tuesday: Breaking it Down Again

 


In truth, I tend to take a deist approach to these matters. I don't think God/the Universe/whatever gives enough of a fuck about me (or anyone else) to test me. I'd prefer to think the Universe isn't that much of a cunt, and I think that any personified higher power simply isn't that involved. The Universe behaves more like The Force in Star Wars. 

Karma is simply the energy of our actions plus our circumstances. Some shit is simply beyond our control. Other shit may be in our control but we may not to be able to act on it in the most effective fashion. I'm at the breaking point with most of it, so I'm going to break it down further.

When I was still working a J.O.B. (Just Over Broke), I was driven by anxiety. There was the anxiety that I wasn't going to get to work on time. There was the anxiety that I wasn't going to get enough sleep. There was the anxiety that I wasn't going to be able to get any writing done. I was bound and determined that working a J.O.B. wasn't going to stop me from doing what I really wanted to do.

All along, I gaslighted myself with Teh Big Dreem. You know the one. The dream where I become an overnight sensation, am able to quit my job, meet Teh Handsum Prints, and live Haplessly Ever After. Yeah. That one.

Today, approximately three years beyond when I was last able to work for someone else, the chickens have come home to roost. But these chickens are not gentle hens laying golden eggs of inspiration. Nor are they funny Foghorn Leghorns, cheering me on with cheeky comedy gems. Nor are they Little Red Roosters serenading me with smoky blues numbers. Nope, these chickens are the shadows of the shit I avoided dealing with for decades. They are fucking trauma vampires and they are fucking with my head.

All of my life, I had to fight against an enemy and my writing sustained me in the fight. When I was in school, the enemy was the fuckers who bullied me. I was determined that one day I would have my revenge on them by being successful and adored by the public while they rotted away in loveless marriages with ungrateful children, toiling away at dead-end jobs they hated.

Once I started working for a living (if you could call it living), my job became the enemy. My writing was going to lift me above the rat race and, depending on how much I loathed the job, I would either benevolently put in my two weeks' notice or I would burst into a rousing chorus of Take This Job and Shove It. Either way, my cruise ship to the High Life would come in, and for once I wouldn't be at the airport.

I actually did work at the airport for a while, first in a bookstore and then in a clothing shop. It was kind of fun at first. It started sucking pretty quickly. My boss at the clothing shop was bugfuck crazy and her son would have made the kid from the Omen pee his pants. The little monster was completely out of control. I literally had a headache anytime she brought him with her. I'm sure he went on to set fires to mailboxes or worse. Not even joking about that.

Currently, the U.S. disability system is the common enemy, but I don't know if I'm up to taking on the entire-ass corrupt system currently in place. I'm fighting it by exposing it, but I don't have the energy to do much else and I have my doubts that anyone is listening. 

Disability is even worse than working a J.O.B. in most ways. I don't have to punch a time clock and I don't have to answer to a power-hungry supervisor, but I do have to follow a set of unrealistic, Draconian rules. To break free of the clutches of the U.S. disability system, I would have to make an unrealistically large amount of money. I would literally have to become an overnight millionaire. 

Although the federal government sees the piddling amount that I make from book reviews as insignificant and allows me to claim the standard deduction, SSD doesn't see it that way. I have virtually given up doing book reviews for pay because I don't want to have to report that nothingburger to disability and risk having my benefits lowered. Most of the time I make less than $100 doing these reviews. It's a fucking hobby. It isn't a real job. But I still have to declare "self-employment income" from it. Fuck my life.

I'm trying to do better with the whole self-care thing, (I kind of hate that term, to be honest), but I'm so used to burning the candle at both ends and running myself to the point of exhaustion. Taking care of myself doesn't come naturally. Youth, stupidity, magical thinking, and self-medication used to mask the damage that I was doing to myself. 

Obviously, I'm no longer young. I may still be stupid as a bag of bricks, but I'm no longer able to gaslight myself with magical thinking. The only "self-medication" I do these days involves shit prescribed by the doctor. Antihypertensives, asthma and allergy medicines, diabetic medications including insulin, eye drops for glaucoma, anti-rosacea cream that makes my face feel like I've been mummified for several millennia, thyroid medication, and triglyceride-lowering medication just don't hit the same as booze, pot, and illicit pills. 

These days my idea of a party is seeing if I can find something that doesn't suck too much on Amazon Prime to watch while playing games on my smartphone to earn Amazon gift cards. I have people that I like but nobody I can call a friend because I always feel like I'm bothering people. I'm a loner by nature but sometimes I wish there was somebody that I could bounce things off. I honestly don't know how to be a friend because I don't trust anybody. I've got my reasons.

Well, it's party time. And by that I mean time for me to take the aforementioned medications. Are you jealous yet?

Spirit of the Universe, I'm trying hard not to give up. I'm trying to make it make sense. I'm trying to take responsibility for my health. Maybe I could have a win--just a small one? 

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~


Things Ornery can't do anymore
Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors

Resource Books:
52 Weeks of Writing

Self-Help Sucks

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp and Naughty Netherworld Press.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. Odysee’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on Odysee. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Come check out Readers Roost, the online book store featuring works by indie and small press authors. Discover your next great read at the Roost! It's the link you need when you wanna read.

Buy me a coffee

Or buy me a coffee here

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Sunday, February 20, 2022

Come As You Are Party: Breaking Down my Breakdown

 


Trigger warning for those who want or need it: Suicide Ideation

"The readers in the world - regardless of how much or how little writing talent they have - become the people who succeed in life."

Unless they're me. 

I am an abject failure.

I am burned out on reading, and on promoting other people's books.

I am discouraged about writing. Clearly, I can't cut it in the popular writing world, but I feel like I've been ousted from my own universe and can't get back in. 

Nobody wants to read what I write, but I can't give the people what they want because what they want doesn't interest me. 

52 Weeks of Writing encourages me to find an "accountability partner."

I'm already accountable. I am a fucking taskmaster. I won't cut myself a break. I'll sleep when I'm dead. And so on. 

This is what I need:


I think that Stephen, being the King of Horror, has forgotten what it's like to not know if anyone needs or wants what you write. He knows that someone out there needs his stories. 

Clearly, nobody needs or wants my stories. There will never be a single soul who says "boy, Story X by C.L. Hart really helped me through" or "wow, that poem by Ornery Owl really spoke to me," or even "that cheeky Lil DeVille's spicy stories cheered me up when I needed it." 

If I haven't made it by almost 60, I'm not going to make it. Honestly, it's discouraging rather than inspiring to be in the company of people who have made it to some degree. I'm going to have to resign myself to the fact that my stories are just a coping mechanism to keep me from topping myself. I wanted something more from them and I wanted something more for them. They deserve better.

I'm sick of myself. I'm sick of this breakdown. I'm sick of living in a world of broken-down things that I don't have the money to fix or replace. I'm sick of living in poverty. I'm sick of all my health problems. 

I've just spent over an hour trying to correct my whacked-out blood sugar. Having zombie organs floating around in my body doing jack shit is a fabulous adventure. Please do try it sometime.

On second thought, don't.

I considered shooting the moon with my insulin this morning. Just dialing the pen as far as it could go and saying goodbye to this failed existence. The only reason I didn't is that my son would be in dire circumstances without my help. It's strange how I can be indispensable and yet an utterly useless piece of shit all at the same time. Such a dichotomy I am. 

Don't tell me to "get help." There isn't any. I don't trust counselors. 

Don't tell me to "take medication." Psych meds make me psychotic. I don't enjoy being psychotic.

Don't tell me to "go to the ER." This isn't an emergency. This is suicide ideation. If I went to the ER every time I experienced suicide ideation, I'd have to live there. Being placed on a psych hold wouldn't help me, it would make things worse. I know what's wrong with me. I'm fucking discouraged and I'm sick of it all. I need a win and I'm not going to get one.

I'm going to have to do something else with my writing. Pursuing fame and money makes me depressed. Well, more depressed. 

I'm going to have to go back to writing what I like to write.

I need to find the key to the gate of dreams again.

Lead on, Mr. Lovecraft.

The line about the key to my dreams is a reference to the story "The Silver Key" by H. P. Lovecraft. You can read the story here if you are so inclined.


The first few lines go a little bit something like this:

When Randolph Carter was thirty he lost the key of the gate of dreams. Prior to that time he had made up for the prosiness of life by nightly excursions to strange and ancient cities beyond space, and lovely, unbelievable garden lands across ethereal seas; but as middle age hardened upon him he felt those liberties slipping away little by little, until at last he was cut off altogether.

Lovecraft was writing about himself when he penned this story. He struggled with depression including suicide ideation just like yours truly. 

The story's protagonist, Randolph Carter, is actually a bit of a dick. He brings misery to the life of the hapless Yaddithian wizard Zkauba. My yet-to-be-edited novel "The Wizard's Key" includes a sympathetic account of Zkauba's plight, which led him to call on Nyarlathotep to free him from Carter's influence.

I hope it isn't too late to re-open the gate.

Perhaps it would be best if I slept for another couple of hours. We're going to try the journey to my mother's house once again today.

Spirit of the Universe, please help me recapture the joy that writing once gave me. Please help me remember what's important. It isn't validation. Still, it hurts seeing so many other people winning when I seem to do nothing but lose.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~


Free use image from Pixabay

Resource Books:
52 Weeks of Writing

Self-Help Sucks

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of  Naughty Netherworld Press and Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. Odysee’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on Odysee. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Come check out Readers Roost, the online bookstore featuring works by indie and small press authors. Discover your next great read at the Roost! It's the link you need when you wanna read.

Buy me a coffee

Or buy me a coffee here

Join me on Patreon!
Subscribe for as little as $1 per month.

Get the latest literary happenings and slices of life in your inbox! 
Now with a new free chapter, poem, or something every month for subscribers.
Get it before anyone else does, or own an unpublished rarity.








Saturday, February 19, 2022

WEP Challenge February 2022: An Underrated Quality

 

Image by John Hain from Pixabay

When they say that all you need is love

Most people’s heads fill with starry-eyed visions

Of pretty young folk romancing one another

Or maybe a bit of bromance between virile young men

Or innocent sisters skipping hand in hand through fields of flowers

Such ideas are little more than cotton candy in a world that is starving

Until you can find it in your heart to have compassion

For those you have deemed ugly and unworthy

The disabled, the elderly, and those who aren’t pretty in a certain delicate way

The mentally ill, the homeless, the deformed

Victims who hide away too traumatized to face the world

Until services are provided for each and every one

We do not have the right to say that we know how to love

In any case, the word love has too many connotations

Of gaiety and frippery

Of lads and lasses tripping the light fantastic into one another’s arms

Then riding off into the sunset to live happily ever after

What the world needs far more than sweet young romance

Is compassion in its muted shades of black and white and gray

Compassion doesn’t care if someone is pretty

It doesn’t care if they are young or old

If they are full of vitality or on their deathbed

If they are black or white or brown or red

If they are fat or thin or in between

Whether they are a real go-getter or a real nowhere nobody

If they are able-bodied or disabled in whatever manner

Compassion seeks to serve them all

A world that lacks compassion cannot claim to be a loving world

A society that lacks compassion cannot claim to be successful

A soul lacking in compassion has no love to give

Until there is fairness and justness in the treatment of all people

This is a world without love

So it is my position that rather than seeking romance

Instead of longing to drown in an ocean of desire

What we really need to create a better life

Is to feed the hungry

To house the homeless

To comfort the suffering

To respect the soul within

Rather than objectify or criticize the body without

What we need is empathy to create a better society

Then maybe we can talk about love

That flighty fairy with fragile gossamer wings

~ornery owl~

390 words

Image by plukdedag64 from Pixabay




The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp and Naughty Netherworld Press.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. Odysee’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on Odysee. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Come check out Readers Roost, the online book store featuring works by indie and small press authors. Discover your next great read at the Roost! It's the link you need when you wanna read.

Buy me a coffee

Or buy me a coffee here

Join me on Patreon!
Subscribe for as little as $1 per month.

Get the latest literary happenings and slices of life in your inbox! 
Now with a new free chapter, poem, or something every month for subscribers.
Get it before anyone else does, or own an unpublished rarity.





Friday, February 18, 2022

Fucking Around Friday: The Definition of Insanity

 

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

After several days of Stupid, we're back. I sort of know where I'm going with this, but there are a few topics I'd like to address. I've given myself permission to take as long as I need and write as much as I want. I've told my inner critic to fuck off. So, let's do this.

First, some questions from 52 Weeks of Writing. The link to purchase a copy of this book for yourself can be found at the end of the post.

What are your goals for the upcoming week?

Let's just take a page from my planner. It looks a little bit something like this.

Write a flash fiction for the Fish Flash Fiction writing contest. Maximum words 300. No limit on theme or genre. Does not need to be about fish. Deadline 28 February.

https://www.fishpublishing.com/competition/flash-fiction-contest/

Enter Women on Writing Flash Fiction Contest (Max words 750)

https://www.wow-womenonwriting.com/contest.php#FlashFictionContest

Deadline 28 February.

Submit poetry to Humana Obscura

https://www.humanaobscura.com/submit

Humana Obscura is now accepting submissions of poetry, prose/short fiction, and art for its next issue!

Submissions will remain open until the end of February 2022.

No politics, nothing rhyming, nothing longer than 75 lines. Haiku is preferable to Senryu. Previously unpublished only, no simultaneous submissions.

Poetry – 3 to 5 poems (or up to 10 haiku, tanka, or other forms of micro poetry, 5 lines or less), no longer than two pages each. Please include all poems in one document.

Short Prose/Flash Fiction – no more than 2 pieces, 1,000 words maximum (per piece).

Unpublished only, no simultaneous submissions.

Work on story for Dragon Soul Press Chance on Love anthology.

https://dragonsoulpress.com/anthologies/

Deadline: 31 March 2022

Anthology: Chance on Love

Word Count – 5,000 to 15,000

Theme – Everyone deserves a chance at love. Whether it lasts forever or ends up being temporary, these characters will fight for the chance at happily ever after.

Rating: R

Work on story for L Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future contest. Sci-fi, fantasy, or dark fantasy, up to 17,000 words. Deadline 31 March 2022.

https://www.writersofthefuture.com/enter-writer-contest/

Work on Cosmically Bonded (part of my ongoing serial series.)

Submit a piece for this month's WIP contest.

Have another look. Are you being realistic? If not, what would be more realistic?

On the surface, this looks rather unrealistic. But when I break things down, I don't think it is. I've already written the poem for the WIP challenge. I just need to put it in a post and submit the link. 

I can write a few Haiku for Humana Obscura. 

I can submit Lucina Entombed to the Chance on Love anthology, although there's a possibility it may be a little clean for their liking given the R-rating in the description. The story contains no descriptive erotic scenes and scant profanity although it contains adult themes. 

It took me a few months to write this 7500-word story. It's a combination of three fairy tales (The Buried Moon, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White) re-imagined in a sci-fi setting. I submitted it for potential inclusion in an anthology and never even received an acknowledgment of receipt. I attempted to contact the person compiling the anthology and heard nothing from them. I have given said anthology up as a lost cause. 

The story is a bit of an oddball and I'm not sure anyone else will want it. My policy is to shop out the stories that aren't part of my ongoing serial over the period of a year and then publish them myself. I'm thinking of compiling an anthology of my work at the end of the year and calling it something like C.L. Hart's Space Oddities Volume I. 

I feel like ideas of this nature make me sound extremely arrogant and self-absorbed. The truth is, I don't think that I will ever have much of an audience. I really like my stories but nobody else seems to. This hurts me more than I can convey. 

Also, I completely suck at promoting my work.

Image by Robin Higgins from Pixabay
Me promoting other people's stories

Me promoting my own stories

What can you do this week to make sure you achieve your goal(s)?

Not have my car battery conk out on me again, something I completely blamed myself for. I had a bit of a mental breakdown when it happened. I am in quite a vulnerable position. Living in the middle of nowhere I need my car to work 100% of the time. I keep up on maintenance. The battery has plenty of life left and there's nothing wrong with the alternator. So, what happened?

I only drive about once a week. Modern cars (even an older one like my 2011 Ford Fusion) have computerized gadgetry and an alarm system that impose a small chronic drain on the battery. I'm taking the car back to the mechanic next week so they can install a switch that will allow me to turn off the battery when I'm not driving the car. This disables the car alarm, but I live in a very low crime rate area and my room is in the front of the house. The car is nearly always in my line of sight. 

Also, we had a few very cold days last week and my car is parked in the open. The cold drained the battery as well. 

My anxiety was astronomical after this happened. I hated myself for allowing it to happen. I could not make myself write and spent several days just watching episodes of When Calls the Heart. 

Why was I unable to write you may ask? It wasn't as if I suffered an irreparable loss. My fucking car battery died. Boo fucking hoo. What a crybaby.

Back in 2013 when my car was hit by a wall of water as I was trying to get to work during the 100-Year Flood in Boulder, Colorado, I was unable to write for a month afterward. I felt like I didn't deserve the luxury of a "hobby" like writing. People had lost their homes. Some people lost their lives. How dare I think I should be allowed to engage in a fucking leisure activity? I'm always such a selfish bitch.

I suffered from (additional) PTSD following that incident. I have complex PTSD from chronic incidents of abuse throughout my childhood. When things are working normally, my anxiety is manageable. Put something out of place and I start to come apart. 

I know all about how people who can "go with the flow" are more likely to be successful. I have had to realize the fact that I will probably never be such a person. I am always teetering on the edge of disaster. I live in a house of cards with a sand foundation built on the San Andreas fault. I am always one huff or puff or seemingly minor disaster away from devastation.

The Spent module allows users to experience what it is like to live paycheck to paycheck. (In my case, disability check to disability check.) It isn't fun.

I used to have such big dreams. Some really were unachievable. I can live with that. What kills me is the feeling that none of them are achievable because I am so awful at everything. 

Hold on to your hats as things are about to devolve into a bitch fest.

It's probably evident by now that I like to listen to independently produced relaxation music and electronic music such as deep house or trance while working on these posts. I saw some long mixes that I might have checked out except for one teeny problem. Rather than posting some nice pictures of, say, nature or candles or people dancing, the thumbnail images feature blatant tits and ass. 

How the hell it's supposed to be relaxing to stare at cleavage or butt crack is beyond me. Even if I was attracted to women, I wouldn't want to be staring at cleavage or butt crack. I'm attracted to men and I don't want to be staring at package shots or male butt crack. Fucking hell, just rename your channel Dudebro Haven. Tits and ass don't convey "positive coaching."

Anyway...

Spirit of the Universe, I am lost again. Please help me find my way.

~Ornery Owl is Searching~

Image by moonzigg from Pixabay
Resource Books:
52 Weeks of Writing

Self-Help Sucks

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



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