It’s tough reconciling the part of myself as being a avid practioner of always start, never finish with someone who will get it together to publish something people want to read (while arguing, kicking and screaming that I’m not writing for the yous! I write only for myself!!! Uh-huh. I don’t write for reaction at all…). Perhaps that’s the problem though. I’ve locked myself into this mindset that I am that person and it needs to change. Change is hard. Today’s challenge is, therefore, kind of hard for me.
‘Short blurbs or brief plot synopsis of three novels, non-fiction or poetry books you’ve not yet written.’
Let’s start with poetry books. Because there is a comfort in the prose and it’s ability to step outside anything resembling structure and form. It’s the interpretive dance of writing.
Folderol and Bafflegab – a collection of rambly-stambly-bambly foofarah
Dedicated to Tim Healy, for giving me the title one lovely Festivus evening so long ago
This collection of poems is Trish’s attempt to make sense of the world around her, while wreaking havoc with anything resembling logic or reason. At times Shel Silverstein gets drunk with Dr Seuss on a leaky tugboat driven by Roald Dahl, she revels in the nonsense inherent in her own brain while cackling madly at the beauty of it all.
Wordpornisms – a collection of saucy smutterances
These poems are a deliciously depraved collection of salacious thoughts viewed through a sultry perspective of low light and atmosphere. With every form from haiku to whathaveyou, Trish runs the gamut from raw, unapologetic lust to a delights of a more sensual timbre. This collection is not for those under 18, those with firmly closed minds or legs and people who think poems should rhyme, everytime. <-haha!
Delusions of grandeur – a collection of dreamstate meanderings
These poems, each written in the style of a different author are Trish’s attempt to pay homage to those she calls hero. Every poet who ever loved enough to write about it is a large list and this book does not encompass that list by any measure. Instead, she has chosen 15 of her favourite writers and written about the dreams they might have.
From the first kiss to the last breath; a series of 7 poems on the subject of what happens just before.
So I did four, so what? I write a lot of damn poetry
In the words of the luscious and dreamy man I’m going to have a torrid affair with one day, Eddie Izzard, ‘et voila’.
Seriously, it’s so unllikely I’ll ever write something that is non-fiction because that suggests the things in the book are factual. I believe that the division between fact and fiction to be tenuous and blurry. Perspective can shift it very easily. The closest I come to non-fiction writing is this blog, mostly because as these thoughts tumble from my head, I intend them as truths, from my point of view. They might not stay true, but for at least a moment, they exist there, happily factual.
Fiction – starting with short stories
Henry and me – Short stories
A woman named something other than Trish discovers the hidden secrets in the dark corners of the City of Light in a series of erotic adventures while searching for and finding Henry Millers’ Paris.
To be followed up with a second book where she looks for Anais Nins’ Paris.
Spoiler alert! She finds that too.
The dark side of romance – 8 short stories that blur the boundaries
Tired of the usual, a woman discovers what joy there can be in some strange; hoping to spice up their marriage, a couple invites a third into their bed with unexpected results; people interact and then sex (i’m getting really tired) plus 5 other stories!
I kinda don’t want to do this anymore. I have lots of story ideas and projecting the books I’m going to write freaks me out a bit. I’m breathing them into being, ergo creating a world where they already exist, even if it’s just in my head for now. That suggests I now have an obligation to write them and what if, being that my mind is occupied by a focus on these stories, I miss out on the ones that might not have as strong a voice but just as legitimate a right to exist? Ideas come and go so quickly, I have to ignore some of them because there just isn’t space, not to mention enough to them to fill out with content. I do have ideas for whole book length stories I’d like to write, but I’m quite intimidated to talk about it. I do best when I have something show up and let it percolate, allow it to find it’s own footing in my head and dictate how it wants to be represented.
That said, I do need to step away from the role of always start, never finish I’ve created for myself and work on being the always start, follow through on that, then start the next thing.
And in the immortal words of a writer I adore without knowing why exactly, since I’ve never read him, whose Paris I looked for, and found. “Forget the books you want to write. Think only of the book you are writing.”