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Amanda M. Blake

~ Of fairy tales and tentacles

Amanda M. Blake

Tag Archives: Poetry

Exorcism, in this economy?: Friday Update

10 Friday Nov 2023

Posted by amandamblake in A Few Thoughts, Novels, Poetry, Short Stories, Writing

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a woman possessed, childfree, childless, daughter, dear human at the edge of time, displaced, in the dollhouse we all wait, leg injury, nanowrimo, physical therapy, poem, Poetry, under her eye, Writing

Bloody Ghost feels sparkly.

News:

My short story “Swallowed” was posted for this month’s Crystal Lake Shallow Waters flash fiction contest, themed Trick ‘r Treat. So if spooky season doesn’t last long enough for you, celebrate an extended Halloween all through November with this month’s stories. ($5 tier and up)

Under Her Eye: A Woman in Poetry Showcase Vol II came out this week. Under Her Eye is a charity anthology of domestic horror poetry. A portion of the sales goes to an international organization to end violence against women. I don’t sell a ton of poetry (it’s a really difficult market), but I’m honored to have my poem “A Woman Possessed” as a part of this anthology.

I also received news that Dear Human at the Edge of Time, a collection of poems about climate change, received the 2023 Best Book Award in the Poetry Anthology category. My poem “Displaced” was a part of this one.

Sad news to report, though. Quill & Crow Publishing’s gothic horror magazine The Crow’s Quill is ending after December. They really helped give me my start with shorter pieces, so it’s disappointing that they’re closing. The zines should remain available for at least another year for 2022 issues and two years for 2023 issues, and they’re free to read.

In more sad news, that portfolio of some of the best poems I’ve written didn’t get taken up, but I did get a personalized note on one them, so that was decent. I had to sit in my unhappiness for a while and wrote another poem to feel better.

On the leg injury front, I continue to have improvement by following all my exercises, and I can tell the lower part of my lower leg is stronger than the last time I reached this point in my healing, but I’m still struggling with my gait while barefoot. I’m a hair away from normal, though, when I’m wearing shoes. I have new exercises to do, and I’ve been cleared to use the elliptical machine again for up to fifteen minutes every other day, which I’m super excited about.

My PT always exclaims how hyperflexible my feet are when I go up on my toes, unusually so, like ballerina feet, and he asks me if I’m hyperflexible everywhere else. I have some double-jointed fingers, but no. I’m just ridiculously elated that I’m flexible in at least one area of my body. Going the other way, flexing my toes back toward my knees, the foot on my injured leg only reaches half as far as my left, but it’s an improvement. It didn’t used to bend past ninety degrees at all.

Works in Progress:

I finished In the Dollhouse We All Wait on November 5, total word count of 116,160 words. It was significantly longer than anticipated, given that I’d forecast about 70-80K words. I’ll have to cut it down significantly, I think—at least under 90K if I want to try to send it off to places that accept extreme horror. But as I opined last time, I’m not sure how I feel about this story and how ugly it is in a very specific way. I accomplished certain things that I set out to do, among which was writing an absolutely awful woman villain, because we need more of them. Even so, I’m not sure what place this story has. However, sometimes writing something hits as more extreme than the reading of it, because I’m more immersed in the world rather than with a barrier of a page. In any case, I’m shelving it for a while to get other writing projects done, like I usually do with projects to get some perspective for edits.

The next day, I immediately turned around and started Lost & Alone, intending it to be the sixth book in the Meridian series under my other name, but I’d already anticipated that it might end up too short for the series. It would need to be at least above 70K after edits, during which I usually make significant cuts to the word count, and I’m not sure it’s even going to cross 60K here. If that’s the case, I’ll reconfigure it as a standalone novella. It’s the least Meridian-y of the Meridian novels, since it’s a prequel set well before Meridian becomes a bustling urban center. Like, oh no, I have a stray novella to sell…say it ain’t so.

It does mean that I’ll probably have to add another Meridian novel to my writing line-up this year as I wrap up my writing sabbatical, which is not ideal. Really wish I had another year to work on the long things on my docket, but I just don’t know how. I’m also dreading heading back into the general workforce. Despite ample evidence to the contrary, I tend to not feel like a competent and capable human being, so I’m worried I’m going to screw things up, on multiple levels.

As far as general NaNoWriMo word counts go, I’m at 48K and heading for crossing the 50K line today after finishing this post, which puts me on schedule with a little cushion, if needed.

Books I’m Reading:

IT by Stephen King
Discount Armageddon by Seanan McGuire
The First Five Minutes of the Apocalypse edited by Brandon Applegate
This World Belongs to Us edited by Michael W. Phillips, Jr.

Music I’m Listening To:

Nocturne playlist
Taylor Swift
Joanne by Lady Gaga
Jordin Sparks debut
Kerosene by Miranda Lambert
Kill the One You Love by GEMS
Kill the Sun by Xandria
Laced/Unlaced by Emilie Autumn
Princess Pepper playlists on YT
Don’t Panic! playlists on YT
My Witchy Diary playlists on YT

Things I’m Watching:

Exorcist: The Beginning
Alien vs. Predator
Blade
Blade II
Blade: Trinity

Halloween Wars series (completed)
Halloween Cookie Challenge series (completed)
Halloween Baking Championships series (completed)
Outrageous Pumpkins series (completed)
Great British Baking Show series
Buffy the Vampire Slayer series
Scream Queens series
Kitchen Nightmares series
Good Bones series
Hoarders series
Helix series
NCIS series

Poem of the Week:

sometimes i see her
the daughter that never will be
sometimes i argue with her
despair of what a bad mother i am
sometimes i hold her in my arms
after reading a book to her
that i always wanted to share
sometimes i want space from her
but then i remember that she
never was and never will be
and i’m sad i’ll never know her
she’ll always just be
a voice a baby a child
a teenager an adult
that could have been

“Halloween Parade”

31 Tuesday Oct 2023

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry

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a nightmare for all seasons, halloween, halloween parade, happy halloween, lyrics, poem, Poetry, poetry collection

For Halloween, enjoy this lyrical poem that will be included in my seasonal horror poetry collection, A Nightmare for All Seasons, which comes out next year.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

HALLOWEEN PARADE

Days growing shorter
Darker the skies
Harvest the fields
Cooler breeze nights
Pumpkin spice cider
Hot apple pies
Leaves tumble by
Flickering lights

What is that scent
That floats on the wind?
What is that rumble
over the road?
We’ve waited all year
For them to return
We’ve waited all year
As the fortune teller foretold

The time has come
For the Halloween Parade
Everyone gather round
For the Halloween Parade
Our town bearing signs
That our children have made
Three more cheers now
For the Halloween Parade

Dancing brown grass
Golden leaves awhirl
Honey-roasted caramel
Cherry-lime swirl
Jack-o’-lantern here
Candied orange curl
For every good boy
And every good girl

How we have waited
For this celebration day
How we have yearned
For innocent little joys
Whether that comes from
Dancing pantomime clowns
From dazzling sequins
Or dark wicked play

The time has come
For the Halloween Parade
Bring your family down
For the Halloween Parade
The corn has been mazed
The gravestones all laid
Three more cheers now
For the Halloween Parade

Ghostly ghouls
Spirit trails
Haunted houses
Werewolf tails
Vampire grins
Mourning veils
Creepy songs
Eerie wails

Haven’t we suffered
Enough in this town?
Haven’t we had enough
Grief, pain, and sorrow?
When they come here
With their glamor and lights
We can pretend that
There is no more tomorrow

The time has come
For the Halloween Parade
Angels and demons come round
For the Halloween Parade
The contracts are signed
And the debts are all paid
Three more cheers now
For the Halloween Parade

Yes, the time has come
For the Halloween Parade
All restraints come unbound
For the Halloween Parade
Remember the warnings
Your old friends have said
Three more cheers now
For the Halloween Parade

Tasting Salt: Friday Update

13 Friday Oct 2023

Posted by amandamblake in A Few Thoughts, Novels, Series, Short Stories, Thorns, Writing

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arms race, crystal lake entertainment, crystal lake shallow waters, extreme horror, feast, girl dinner, halloween, injury, novel, poem, Poetry, published, puppeteer, question not my salt, thanksgiving, the thorns series, torrid waters

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

News:

So I have absolutely wonderful news that I’ve been sitting on until we finalized the contract, but my short novel Question Not My Salt is going to be published in 2024 through the new Crystal Lake Entertainment extreme horror imprint Torrid Waters.

Texas Chain Saw Massacre + Hannibal by way of The Menu, this isn’t just girl dinner—it’s family dinner. Come for Thanksgiving. Stay for the Feast.

Now, this is unflinchingly extreme horror, which means blood, guts, sex, gore, and a bucket full of content warnings, so it’s not for the squeamish. I’ll provide more details as we get closer to the release. But this is my first non-self-published novel through this name (erotic romance is a different kind of business, so what’s written under my other name is not comparable). It still feels surreal that I can say that someone else is publishing my book.

My dense submerged horror story “Arms Race,” finalist in the Crystal Lake Shallow Waters flash fiction contest, was posted on Wednesday. The contest is still going with Boat/Ship/Sub horror, and reading and voting is a lot of fun, worth the $5 tier.

There’s a release party for The Book of Queer Saints Vol 2 on October 30, with live readings. (I’m an alternate.) If you’d like a pre-Halloween celebration, this is a great place to listen to some excellent queer horror.

And of course, as shared in the previous post, Puppeteer (Thorns Book 4), is officially out as an e-book (Amazon, all other vendors). Now’s a great time to get into the Thorns series, because book five is off to its editors and will be coming out May next year for a mid-series conclusion.

No luck with the short story collection or a short story that was shortlisted and rejected right on the margin, both which were really disappointing. I’m still not entirely sure whether I should break up the collection and sell piecemeal or hold it together until the new year. I just submitted one of the poems to a call, so I guess I’ll see. (On a side note, the portfolio I sent has some of the best poems I’ve written, and it’s striking how I’ve improved as a poet. It’s going to be deflating when they’re likely rejected, but *shrugs* such is the job.)

In personal news, I selected a physical therapist, so I’m headed to PT next Monday. I’ve never done PT before—new experience. I’m worried about pain, but hopefully they can help me with my gait once I get out of the support boot again, and I’ll have some real guidance on how to take care of myself, even though I’d hoped to heal on my own (much cheaper). The muscle pain in both legs from a few weeks ago has calmed down. I’m still careful, but at least I’m not despairing. I didn’t realize how bad it was until things got better.

My personal goal of finishing unfinished TV shows continues. I knocked Under the Banner of Heaven and season 1 of Interview with the Vampire off my list, and I’ll continue AHS: Cult next.

Works in Progress:

No rest for the wicked. I finished the Meridian Book 4 edits and submitted it to the publishing house (accepted, since it was part of a series and they get first refusal, but they haven’t refused me yet).

I wrote two short pieces and polished them for submissions.

Now I’m working on my next horror novel, which is even more extreme than QNMS, so I’m intimidated by it and prone to procrastination. Still, I’d like to reach 20K words on In the Dollhouse We All Wait by the end of the weekend. Not sure at this point how long it’s going to be. I’m estimating somewhere in the 70K-word region, but it really could go either way.

Books I’m Reading:

IT by Stephen King
Discount Armageddon by Seanan McGuire
The First Five Minutes of the Apocalypse edited by Brandon Applegate
This World Belongs to Us edited by Michael W. Phillips, Jr.

Music I’m Listening To:

Halloween playlist
Haunted Mansion ambience music

Things I’m Watching:

Muppet Haunted Mansion
Rob Zombie’s Halloween
The Haunted Mansion (2003)
Interview with the Vampire series (caught up)
Halloween Wars series
Halloween Baking Championships series
Outrageous Pumpkins series
Buffy the Vampire Slayer series
Scream Queens series
Under the Banner of Heaven series (finished)
Kitchen Nightmares series

Poem of the Week:

say you want the healing to begin
but you offer no salve
no salvation
no service administration
you don’t want peace
doesn’t matter if
people are in pieces
as long as it’s
quiet

“All-Nighter”

03 Saturday Jun 2023

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry

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all-nighter, college life, Poetry, weird horror

Photo by Francesco Paggiaro on Pexels.com

I had a vivid memory of college essay all-nighters and the weird way I felt on the other side of them, felt this intense compulsion to capture it.

At the end of an all-nighter
I am deadmanwalking I am shambler
I am three bottles of coffee
and sugarmilk buzzing hornets
through my bloodstream and still
eyelids droop like broken shades
At the end of an all-nighter
words blur and syntax stops
making sense in every sentence
no matter how many times I
repeat and repeat and repeat
to proofread a misktae is always
left behind after the paper is graded
but all that matters now is that
it is finished ended entered submitted
At the end of an all-nighter
the sunrise looks wrong and
the shadows in the bedroom
are in the wrong place when
I’m deep in the covers cave
to hibernate until next class
At the end of an all-nighter
I am a god I can see all things
the mist of fluorescent light
and the parts of things the
pixels of the fabric of reality
static shifting so prettily
At the end of an all-nighter
I am an olddeadgod preparing
to be resurrected with the
embalming fluid of new coffee

Dead Ends – poetry of the morbid and macabre

02 Thursday Mar 2023

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry

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dead ends, death and dying, macabre, morbid, Poetry, self-publishing

I can’t even be coy about the cover reveal, because I’m kind of excited (nervous, but excited) that I’m putting out this little morbid poetry collection in April.

Most of the poems consist of flash pieces and reconstructed lyrics shared through social media the last few years that are already considered published and therefore unlikely to be republished. I include a few new pieces, too, though.

Resolute (5)

03 Tuesday Jan 2023

Posted by amandamblake in Uncategorized, Writing

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2022, depression, new year, novelette, novellas, Novels, Poetry, published, quitting job, resolutions, Short Stories, Writing

Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

I’ve been having trouble putting together this end-of-year list because of a deep sense of despair and hopelessness for this future, be it this year or five years from now. I recognize this as depression, partially situational and partially bad brain chemistry that I don’t treat with medication, just sort of learn to live with. As a result, I can build momentum without motivation, and I will proceed with plans made, but God, it’s hard to believe in myself.

2022 was the year that I finally gave up the ghost at the job I’ve been paying the bills with for eight years. My last day is next Friday, and even though it was my decision, I can’t help feeling like it’s a kind of failure that I couldn’t make it work. I suppose it’s like a bad marriage in a way. You know it’s best for everyone if you separate, but you invested all of this time that now feels like it yields nothing. And that’s where I’m mentally stuck right now, although I have general plans of pivoting industries and I have the privilege of a financial cushion.

I’ve tried to pivot before, and it didn’t go so well, so I’ve got that failure hanging over me to remind me that this may not work out. I have back-up options if that happens, but it’s still not the best personal encouragement for making such a big change.

Less depressing changes in my personal life include getting to watch my niece grow so much between turning one and turning two. She’s gone from being a baby to a little girl with opinions and personality, and being called Tía is strange and amazing.

I’ve also had a banner writing year because of a slew of poems and short stories sold, which is the kind of encouragement I needed and tells me that I’m doing something right. Between flat rates and royalties, I made over a thousand dollars, which is a milestone I’ve never reached before. Now, because of PUPPETEER professional edits, I spent significantly more, so I still haven’t made an actual profit, but getting paid pro rates on some poems and short stories is incredibly gratifying.

Because of quitting my job and having a block of unpaid months, I’m going to make it a point in 2023 to write and edit more with the aim of selling. I have a handful of longer works that need to be edited for submission, and I’m going to take my ‘sabbatical’ to do that as well as get some sleep (rest and rejuvenation).

This year didn’t produce any self-published novels because I had other deadlines to meet, but here are my stats for writing this year, not including the editing work done on those novels with an aim for self-publishing this year. Considering I never thought I could do short form or poetry well, I’m tremendously proud of my short-form writing accomplishments, if frustrated by how far behind I am on my novella/novel schedule. I also can’t thank Quill & Crow enough for seeing value and beauty in so many of my gothic and horror pieces in 2022.

– wrote at least one flash poem a day, including a 31-part long concept poem for December
– wrote 15 short stories, 1 novelette
– planned to finish a novel by the end of the year and start a new one, but dayjob required a lot of overtime and energy in December, so I’m almost finished but not quite
– published 3 poems and 6 short stories, with more to be announced and published in 2023

Poetry:

“Goddamned,” Crow Calls: Volume 4, Quill & Crow Publishing House, June 12, 2022
“The Chase,” Crow Calls: Volume 4, Quill & Crow Publishing House, June 12, 2022
“An Empyrean Con,” Bloodless, Sliced Up Press, October 28, 2022

Short Stories:

“Resin,” Beyond the Veil, Ghost Orchid Press, February 9, 2022
“A Still and Weathered Stone,” The Crow’s Quill, Quill & Crow Publishing House, June 2022 issue
“Tastes of Desperation,” Tales from Brackish Harbor, Quill & Crow Publishing House, August 13, 2022
“Lullaby,” The Crow’s Quill, Quill & Crow Publishing House, October 2022 issue
“Wandering Lights,” Halloween Horrors, Black Widow Press, October 13, 2022
“Ragged,” The Crow’s Quill, Quill & Crow Publishing House, November 2022 issue

It’s my plan for 2023 to continue submitting new and trunk work to short story and poetry submission calls, but I’m going to focus more on long form this year, including completing some of my contracted novel work and wrapping up stories already slated for self-publication (with editors already paid for editing work on most of them). But anything else as yet unassigned for self-publication, I’m going to either try to submit to good indie presses (novellas and shorter novels) or find representation (longer novels). I may still self-publish for creative control, but I might not be able to afford to do it for a while because I’m saving for an associate’s degree.

Among self-published works coming out this year, I have PUPPETEER (Thorns 4); OUT OF CURIOSITY AND HUNGER (formerly THE VERY HUNGRY), a short creature feature novel; and DEAD ENDS, a collection of morbid and macabre poetry, most previously published on social media (so I can’t sell most of them), but some have never been posted before.

I’m sick to my stomach from blowing up my life with no guarantees, because I’m not a gambler and I much prefer a sure thing, but I’m going to press on anyway, because that’s just what I have to do and have always done. And I’m going to get some rest, because that’s what I need.

Here’s hoping that writing continues to be fruitful and fulfilling and that 2023 ends up better than it feels right now.

“An Empyrean Con”

16 Wednesday Nov 2022

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry

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bloodless, empyrean con, horror, poem, Poetry, published, sliced up press

I shared this on Twitter but kept forgetting to put it here. My first paid poem, “An Empyrean Con,” is featured in BLOODLESS from Sliced Up Press, a collection of blood-free horror.

the sea is boiling today

17 Sunday Jul 2022

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry

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climate change, eco poetry, environmentalism, poem, Poetry, social justice

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
We can clear the burning black
From the smoldering bay

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
Dead fish are swimming
Belly up to play

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
The coral’s gone white
The seaweed’s gone gray

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
It’ll only last an hour
Or at most a day

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
No need to point fingers
We can afford to delay

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
Sure it looks bad here
But not as bad as they

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
We promise it gets better
No need not to stay

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
We’ll keep our thoughts pure
On our knees to pray

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
By the time it’s all gone
We’ll all be away

Resolute (4)

01 Saturday Jan 2022

Posted by amandamblake in Writing

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2021, family, gothic, niece, Poetry, published, resolutions, Short Stories, the thorns series, Writing

Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

I concluded 2021 with one of the worst work weeks in a bad year and started 2022 with period cramps—like, right after midnight. It’s a good thing I’m not superstitious, otherwise I’d consider it a bad omen. I think most of us agree that 2021 was the last in a trilogy of terrible years that I hope doesn’t have more in its series, but it’s hard to hold out hope these days. I just try to take it a week at a time. Looking too far ahead leads directly to despair, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

However, in spite of the tint of my pessimism glasses, I do have to admit that even a year that tipped toward the bad side of the scale doesn’t necessary have nothing on the good side.

My niece was born at the end of 2020, so we spent 2021 watching her grow. I’m neither maternal nor particularly nurturing, so there aren’t going to be children from my line, but I love that little girl, and getting to see her in person and in pictures and video was the main highlight of my year.

On the writing side, the highlight was publishing the third book in the Thorns series, BLUEBIRDS, although that series is still under most people’s radar. I keep at it in case it crops up later and because I don’t like unfinished things, plus I like this universe. I did my first editing pass of PUPPETEER (T4), cutting the bloated 219K words down to 183K. I’m on the second editing pass now and shooting for under 170K words, if possible, before sending it out to editors and beta readers.

The rest of the writing side was a bit shaky. I tried to write the DRACULA reimagining scheduled in the spring, but I made it about 75K words before I realized it was Not Working. Instead of finishing it and hoping to clean it up later, I wrote myself so deep into Not Working that I had to just stop. When I try again this year, I’m going into it with an outline and an adjusted style for the video epistolary, so we’ll see whether that works.

With the failure of the reimagining attempt, I was a bit at odds with my writing, so I decided to take on a novella—something shorter that wouldn’t hurt as badly if I had to stop. I finished writing creature feature short novel THE VERY HUNGRY at the end of May. I’d originally conceived of it as a short story, so I decided to see if I could recreate that feeling in my head. I came to the conclusion after several starts and stops that some things that play as a movie in one’s head doesn’t always translate to the page, because movies can show rather than tell in such a unique way not available to written narrative. However, after the fourth try, I managed to write a short version, although it’s too long for most anthology calls. I’ll see what I can do with it in the future.

Trying to write the short story version of THE VERY HUNGRY, however, triggered something that I hadn’t planned on for my year. After years of assuming that I wasn’t a short-form writer, I actually ended up writing for a number of short story anthology calls. I do have more stop-restarts than I do for novels, which is frustrating, but at least you don’t lose as much time when you stop-restart after 6K than 75K words. Not counting a few pieces of flash fiction, I wrote 15 stories of 1-15K words. Some of them were too long for the calls and had to be put to the side for now. Of the ones I submitted, some received personalized rejections (which is a good thing), and one of them was accepted! “Resin,” my queer horror-tragedy short story, will be published Feb 2022 in Ghost Orchid Press’ BEYOND THE VEIL.

In addition to short stories this year, I tried my hand at poetry. I’ve always tagged my song lyrics as ‘not a poet,’ because I always felt pretentious as hell writing poetry before, although I’d done a few pieces over the years. I didn’t feel I deserved to call it poetry, much less call myself a poet. But the gothic/horror prompts from Quill & Crow Publishing House inspired me, so about mid-July, I took the plunge. Ever since, I’ve been posting flash poetry daily on my Twitter feed, and I found my voice in it so that I don’t feel pretentious anymore (most of the time). It’s a lot of fun, just trying to create a feeling or image and play and paint with words on a micro scale, and two were published in Quill & Crow’s Volume 3 of CROW CALLS.

Writing both short stories and poetry was a bit like learning a new language, and for a few months after starting each, my brain lit up from all the new imaginative muscles flexing. They’ve since settled, but it was still quite a creative high.

For NaNoWriMo, I planned to take a break from editing PUPPETEER to write a few long short stories or novelettes. I had a list of about three or four I intended to finish during the month. Little did I know that the first one, HOSTILE TERRITORY, would turn into another short novel. So that happened. It needs some work and will probably be a novella by the time it’s trimmed down, and I still have some things I’m not sure about with it. But at least I don’t need to scrap it like the DRACULA reimagining. Just another story to store in the trunk until I can tackle it again.

On a personal level, I didn’t lose any more weight. In fact, I gained a little during the holidays. However, I did get off of my insulin-resistance and cholesterol medications, and the holidays are almost over, so hopefully I’ll be able to get back down to a more manageable level. I’ve come to accept that I am fat and will always be fat at every size, and nothing short of devastating illness or cosmetic surgery is going to change that, so I have to focus on my health rather than my size to avoid disappointment.

I don’t really have personal goals for the year. Like I said, if I try to look much farther than a week, it’s not the greatest feeling. I’ll stick with writing goals, although even that hasn’t been without its frustrations.

In 2022, I’ll finish editing PUPPETEER (T4) and send it out. I hope to self-publish it by the end of the year, although I feel on shakier ground with it than the other four I’ve written. When that’s done, I’ll probably edit short novel THE VERY HUNGRY to prep for submission, although I don’t know where yet. Then I’d like to tackle WILDWORLD (T5), although there are still elements I’m unsure about, so I might need to do some basic outlining to figure it out. After that, I think I’ll block out some months for short story anthology calls and some of the shorts/novelettes on my list. Then I hope to revisit the DRACULA reimagining with a tight outline and see if that helps. For NaNoWriMo 2022, I’d like to start the sequel to UNDEAD ANONYMOUS, which was NaNo 2020’s project, but although I know how it starts, I still don’t know where it’s going, so we’ll see. There’s always something else to work on. My project list doesn’t really get shorter.

Here’s hoping 2022 has more grains of rice on the good side of the scale.

City on the Hill

19 Wednesday Sep 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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Tags

america, american history, anger, lyrics, not a poet, patriotism, Poetry, politics, social commentary, social justice, songwriting

blue and yellow flame painting

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I’ve debated whether to share this song. I’ve shared a few other socially conscious pieces (Vultures, Fools), but this is the one I always come back to when I’m really, really angry, and that’s usually the shit that people jump on as something that needs to be extinguished immediately before someone actually expresses a negative, opposing thought or feeling.

I love you, but I’m really angry all the time. I look back at what this country came from, what it created, everything we’ve done, where we are now, and just get so frustrated how little the big things change. How progress isn’t forward but sideways. How human nature screws us over and no one listens and no one learns, and it’s always been there. It’s our entire industrious, ignominious history. It’s what we’re made of, what we built our foundation on, and I hate seeing that washed away or reframed or dismissed as though guilt and shame are somehow an irrational – or treasonous – response.

I carry with me pockets of history that seem like reflection – from the Salem Witch Trials to the Civil War to the suffragettes to the civil rights movement, from the first wave of colonists and all subsequent immigrants that all previous immigrants lamented. To everything going on now as though nothing has fucking changed at all. To a clock approaching midnight and all the gears and springs falling out, but we still keep polishing and winding the damn thing like it’s working the way it’s supposed to.

I’m mad. So I bring in the history, and I bring in the metaphors. Please don’t crucify me. (Part of sharing these songs is to take risks, and one of those risks is that people won’t like me. I don’t handle that well or sometimes at all, but I’ll probably survive. So you don’t have to like me or what I say.)

CITY ON THE HILL

Ivory-skinned pilgrims in sober black clothes
Sailed to a new world, fleeing inadequate souls
Built their city on a hill upon fields of stone
In anger and hunger, virtue took its own toll.

From scaffold and stones to chains and bones
The city rose west, boots on blood and on tears
With a vow that what came was worth all the cost
Because all of the world would rejoice we were here.

Chorus:
The city on the hill, now the city on fire
Every year’s ashes build its flames higher
From the last lighthouse another funeral pyre
Lives left in ruins by silver-tongued liars
If the city on the hill refuses to learn
Maybe it’s time to let it all burn.

We carve our casualties into weeping walls
Lock our strangers in prisons till memories fade
We draw and drown witches of all of our fears
While they float for the lies that every judge made.

We raise our own monuments, sing our own songs
Until skulls crack from all the deafening sounds
From deplorable vices cloaked in virtuous days
Burying beauty and history in unhallowed grounds.

Chorus

Bridge:
We build walls to keep out the ones we invade
And towers to rise from the bodies we laid
O new ‘Salem, O suspicion and pain
Paranoia in your heart and blood on your name.

Chorus

 

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