(Source: coma-kid)
If you could do anything
- Lux: Tell me what you want to do... like if you didn't have to worry about money or living or your body or anything
- Lux : if you could go anywhere and do anything
- Lux: your perfect place
- Autumn: I want to write and publish books.. I want to be a hedonist, I want to travel
- Autumn: I want to be able to hang out with heroin addicts and hug them when they cry, and the next day go to a book opening with bourgeois idiots
- Autumn: I want to go to iceland and trip on mushrooms in the wilderness
- Autumn: I want to keep learning
- Autumn: I want to be a thousand personalities, a thousand lives
- Autumn: I want to be able to live in the woods for a month because I want to see what will happen
- Autumn: I want to meditate with monks and dance with children who are dying
- Autumn: And I will write it down, I will transmute my pain, "comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable."
- Autumn: I want that girl in the hospital bed to read we are wormwood and feel safe
- Autumn: I want that little therian girl who thinks nobody loves her to read sunblood
- Autumn: I want to pry the way out with bleeding fingers
- Autumn: I want to rescue everyone
- Autumn: I want to let people know it's possible to be alive
- Autumn: I want to protest and make politicians mad at me and send me death threats, I want them to be mad because I'm dangerous
- Autumn: I want to be dangerous
Pinked, and just in time to create my own Japanese hair metal band.
What if being a writer was really romantic after all?
See the sour faced Hemingway-wannabe with the black lungs, smoking a cigarette outside a coffee shop. “Writing isn’t all it’s cracked up,” he says, phlegm in the pocket of his cheek. His shirt is stained with whiskey. He smells of peppermints that he uses to try to hide the smell of his breath.
“All you young writers out there think being a writer is this amazing thing, but you have no idea what’s in store for you. You have no idea.”
He will tell you of nights spent scratching at his head until it bled. The nights he wished that he’d been a taxidermist or a dentist instead. How his wife left him in the black night and he chased her up and down the streets howling like a rabid dog. “Don’t be a writer, kid,” he’ll say, “you don’t want to end up like me.”
Then he will act like he doesn’t enjoy it.
I want to laugh at all the Hemingway’s of the world, nursing war wounds and bitter dregs. Because, yes, this is what I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been waiting to be imprisoned like Dostoevsky. I’ve been waiting for this moment when I can’t get to that next paragraph and so begin to try amputating my owns limb off. I’ve been waiting for the broken laptop and the broken chapter. For dark nights in a back bedroom, unable to escape out of my head because I can’t get the taste of bad words out.
Nothing can take that feeling away. Yes, darling, you will be a writer. Oh yes. And even the terrible moments - spitting poverty, unable to feel the sunshine on the back of your hands - this is what you’ve been waiting for. You will love every moment of it. Don’t believe him for a moment. I promise you will.
The cover for my upcoming novel, We are Wormwood. Cover image by baileyelizabeth.com Artwork by Janiceduke.com. More details soon.
Ever since she was a child, Lily has been pursued by the girl with the Wormwood eyes, the girl she once found hiding in the burnt out husk of a dead tree. It is Lily’s connection to this girl that lead her through a psychotropic underworld of reincarnated saints and bondage queens. Of poison gods and spider’s with woman faces. And ultimately, the girl with the Wormwood eyes will take Lily down into the Hush Place, to a final confrontation with the ubiquitous nightcatcher, the creature that’s followed Lily’s Messianic-complexed mother since her birth.
A darkly surreal, drug-coated romance, We are Wormwood tells an inhuman love story, and the transformation that results.
The cover for my upcoming novel, We are Wormwood. Cover image by baileyelizabeth.com Artwork by Janiceduke.com. More details soon.
I really wasn’t ready for that whole “Working on a Saturday” thing.
Misogyny Experienced as a Female Writer : A Personal Experience
- Being told by a friend that “women couldn’t write horror,” and “there were no good women horror writers.”
- Hearing a fellow writer critique a woman’s public reading, not for the content, but because she “needed to wear a bra” while performing.
- Being expected to work, cook, and clean while my boyfriend worked on the “great american novel,” despite the fact that he’d never written anything before and I had my own novel to work on.
- Being introduced as “the writer’s girlfriend.”
- Having a college student “mansplain” video game design to me while I was currently with a company designing a video game.
- Being told to write something “less abrasive next time.”
- Being told to “write a nice romance next time.”
- Having my appearance commented on in several interviews when I was promoting my books.
- Being told I was, “pretty for a writer.”
