Unique Advice To Aspiring Writers

Picture courtesy of Goodreads.com

.

When I discovered this quote, I was laughing out loudly. Of course, the name ‘Dorothy Parker’ was anchored somewhere in the back of my head. I remember I got different information about her. Some say she’s been known more for her impertinence than her writing. Others admire her for her wit, guts, strength and personality, and sense of style, writing, and adventure. I belong to the second group.

As a quick side note, The Elements of Style is a book written by William Strunk jr. and E. B. White and is described as THE classic style manual. I read the book several times and still consult it occasionally. I love the tone it’s written in, and it has helped me many times. I’m convinced it had helped many other writers too.

(Can be ordered @Amazon)


There are many recommendations for new writers.

  • No matter how hard it will be, never give up
  • Start writing; a book doesn’t write itself.
  • If you don’t start, you won’t get it done
  • The writing itself is only a tiny part of what being a writer means

Of course, there are so many more examples, but those are the ones I heard most, with minor variations, of course.

Encouraging new writers is a good thing. Being honest about the writing is another one. Writing in Dorothy Parker’s time was quite different from now, with our possibility of self-publishing. One can say it’s far easier today to see your own story published. In many ways, that’s true. But also, the entire process of self-publishing is often very much underestimated!

  • Writing
  • Editing
  • Formatting
  • Copyright
  • Book Cover
  • Release
  • Trailer
  • Marketing

Every single step of the way is a process in itself. Self-publishing does not mean you can sit down, write whatever you feel like, set it online, and become famous and wealthy. Don’t forget. There are millions of writers with the same idea – and enormous talent!

Self-publishing means you will have to deliver a nothing-less-than-impeccable final product! And part of that ‘writing process’ is quite costly. A self-drawn cover and Momma’s retired English Teacher’s editing won’t be sufficient. Formatting, copyright, cover, editing, trailer, marketing, it all needs funds. Throwing your book out there and expecting the money flowing into the bank account by the thousands is a utopia.

Even nowadays, self-published authors are still the step-children of the craft. The traditionally published authors with the agents are the ‘real’ authors. An author needs a thick skin and guts to deliver name and work out there.

Self-doubt and thoughts of giving up are a daily strain. Depression is widespread among writers, and only other writers can often understand what we are going through. Networking and supporting each other are essential and cannot start early enough in the process.

We want to read our fellow author’s work. We want to give them the famous pat on the back and want to tell them: “Well done!” We want to help and encourage, and many of us are fellow writers and lifelong friends! But we also need to face reality. We need to believe in ourselves. But also need to accept if the one or other story doesn’t work, isn’t as intriguing as we thought, or could be better if we’d take advice and the one or other suggestion.

That means, of course, the four initial recommendations above are still very accurate! And I’m convinced many more writers than just little old me are going to hear those. But it also means, as sassy as Dorothy Parker’s statement is, the one or other experienced writer can very much relate.


Dorothy Parker (née Rothschild; August 22, 1893 – June 7, 1967) was an American poet, writer, critic, and satirist based in New York; she was best known for her wit, wisecracks, and eye for 20th-century urban foibles.

From a conflicted and unhappy childhood, Parker rose to acclaim, both for her literary works published in such magazines as The New Yorker and as a founding member of the Algonquin Round Table. Following the breakup of the circle, Parker traveled to Hollywood to pursue screenwriting. Her successes there, including two Academy Award nominations, were curtailed when her involvement in left-wing politics resulted in her being placed on the Hollywood blacklist.

One of her most famous screens was the one for the 1937 film ‘A Star Is Born’, which she wrote in cooperation with director William A. Wellman, Robert Carson and Alan Campbell, her husband. As we all know, the film has been remade three times: in 1954 (directed by George Cukor and starring Judy Garland and James Mason), in 1976 (directed by Frank Pierson and starring Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson) and in 2018 (starring Bradley Cooper, who also directed, and Lady Gaga).

Dismissive of her own talents, she deplored her reputation as a “wisecracker.” Nevertheless, both her literary output and reputation for sharp wit have endured. Some of her works have been set to music; adaptations notably include the operatic song cycle Hate Songs by composer Marcus Paus.

Parker died on June 7, 1967, the age of 73 of a heart attack, presumably caused by the alcohol addiction she suffered from for over a decade.

(Source: Wikipedia)


However, I don’t want to end this blog post on such a ‘severe’ and almost ‘sad’ note. Leave here with a big smile on your face, please! Let Dorothy Parker make you laugh before you leave:


Martini Quotes. QuotesGram


Author Spotlight – Pat Garcia

Please welcome Pat Garcia on ‘Writer’s Treasure Chest’. I’m very proud to have this wonderful author, poet, singer and friend on my blog, and I thank her so much for being my guest today.


Welcome!

Please introduce yourself?

I am Pat Garcia. That’s my pen name. I write fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and Lyrics, and I sing and play piano.

1.            When did you start writing?

I started singing when I was three and started writing when I started school at the age of five.

2.            What motivates you to write?

My raison d’ etre. It my purpose for living.

3.            What genres do you write in and what made you choose this particular genre?

I write in several genres that are important for me. Romance to include Romantic Suspense, Women Fiction, Erotic and non-fiction I love writing creative non-fiction

4.            What is your goal in writing? Do you have dreams where your writing should take you?

My goals and my dreams are very personal and private, so I am not going to share them.

5.            Do you ever suffer from writer’s block and if yes, how do you deal with it?

There are times when I get stuck and when I do get stuck, I start on something else, or I write in my journal or I stay with the same story and just write until I find a spark.

6.            What advice would you like to give new, hopeful authors?

To not put a time table on what you want to achieve. In fact, I would advise them to not be so quick to share their souls with others. There are some things that the writer has to keep to himself.

7.            Please, tell us about your work.

We are coming out of lockdown here in Germany. During the lockdown, I wrote. I submitted two stories to two different publications, started working at THE PIPELINE, which is an RRBC International online literary magazine as the chief staff writer, and now, I am finishing up a submission for another writing contest and a novella that will come out in 2022.

Thank you for being my guest. It was such a pleasure to have you here!!


Meet Pat Garcia:

Born in Blythe, Georgia, USA, Pat Garcia enjoys writing, music, and games like Bridge, Solitaire, Bid Whiz, Chess, Checkers, and Knitting.

She lives as an ExPat on the European Continent.


Connect with Pat Garcia

Facebook.com- Facebook.com/patgarciaauthor

Twitter – @pat_garcia

Blog – http://patgarciaauthor.com

Instagram – https://instagram.com/pat7garcia


Pat Garcia’s Book:

Turn The Light On – Kindle edition by Garcia, Pat, Publishing, 4Wills. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Author Spotlight – Kevin Morris

Welcome! 

Please introduce yourself.

I was born in the city of Liverpool on 6 January 1969.

Having attended Saint Vincents School for the Blind in Liverpool, and the Royal National College for the Blind in Hereford, I went on to read history and politics at University College of Swansea.

Having graduated with a BA (joint honours) in history and politics, and an MA in political theory, I moved to London in 1994 where I now live and work.

Being blind and unable to read print, I use software called Job Access with Speech (JAWS) which converts text into speech and braille, enabling me to use a Windows laptop. All of my poems are written using JAWS.

When did you start writing?

I began writing seriously in 2012-2013, although I do remember composing a poem entitled “The Snake” whilst at school in Liverpool. I recollect that it began, “slithering through the wet grass comes the snake”.

What motivates you to write?

I enjoy the act of writing (the creation of poems). Indeed I sometimes believe that I have an itch which must be scratched, for when I do not write for a few days I feel a compulsion to put virtual pen to virtual paper.

What genre do you write in, and what made you chose this particular genre?

Most of my writing falls within the genre of poetry. I recollect with great pleasure leafing through works of poetry such as “Palgrave’s Golden Treasury” and “The Oxford Book of English Verse” in the school library. Reading these anthologies kindled in me a love of poetry which has stayed with me ever since, and has grown over the years.

What is your goal in writing? Do you have dreams where your writing should take you?

I write for the joy of the craft. I hope also that my poetry gives pleasure to others and perhaps encourages those unfamiliar with poetry to read more poetry. As for dreams, I am delighted that a number of my poems will be published in a forthcoming anthology of verse. Whilst I have, myself published several poetry collections, it is wonderful to know that my poems will appear alongside the work of other poets in an anthology.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block, and if yes, how do you deal with it?

Fortunately I rarely suffer from writer’s block (he says touching wood)! However, when tired I turn off my computer as I know that if I do manage to write, what is written is likely to be of inferior quality.

What advice would you like to give new, hopeful authors? 

I would say to new authors “believe in yourself. By all means listen to what others have to say about your work and learn from that. But, ultimately you have to rely on your own judgement. If someone tells you to change something (and you believe that it works as written) then trust your own judgement. Also read widely”.

Please, tell us about your work.

Many of my poems (perhaps the majority) are written in my home which overlooks an historic park in the Upper Norwood area of Greater London. Norwood derives it’s name from The Great North Wood, and is still possessed of many fine trees.

I have written many poems inspired by the area in which I live, including the below poem which is entitled “The Path Through the Woods”:

 

“The path taken less often than I should,

This tranquil place through a nearby wood.

A spot with trees for walls

Where sunlight through the branches falls.

An oasis from the urban din

I find a quiet place within.

An inner space where the heart can be still,

A peaceful spot on this wooded hill.

The path to the road ascends.

A cloud of gloom on me descends.

I must return to this rented land

Where advertising hordings stand.

A world where empty vessels make most noise,

And people play with broken toys.”

—–

(Copyright Kevin Morris – Please respect the author’s right on his own word)


Kevin Morris’ Books:

“The Selected Poems of K Morris”, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WW8WXPP/.

 

 

 

 

 

“Light and Shade: Serious (and Not so Serious) Poems”, https://www.amazon.com/Light-Shade-serious-not-poems-ebook/dp/B08B4X3GVX/


Connect with Kevin Morris:

Author website, https://kmorrispoet.com/

Twitter, https://twitter.com/drewdog2060_

Goodreads, https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6879063.K_Morris

A Strong F(r)iend – A Riddle

 


I have four legs but I got no tail

I’m strong and square, not a bit frail.

I got huge, I mean, enormous paws

and no nails I got – no, I got claws!

**

Even though I walk on four

I can also stand on two – no more.

It’s always good for showing off

I look even worse, and hard and tough!

**

I’m a loner, no herd, no pack

I can sleep on my stomach and on my back

I’m a hunter, but still I’m omnivore

I can mutter, grummle, hum and roar.

**

There are many sorts of our kind

We all are dangerous, of the same mind.

We might look cuddly, that is said

but don’t trust us for a second, or you’ll be dead.

**

Science has proven, after lots of to probe

You can find us all over the round globe

From far South American to all up North

where I’m roaming back and forth.

**

We show up in different size

in many colors also quite disguise.

Brown and black, with spectacles and white hair

Yes, you’re right – I am the bear!

*****

(Copyright, Aurora Jean Alexander, December 2019)

Truly Grateful – A Poem For Thanksgiving 2019

For many things I’m grateful,

one of them is health

I don’t need to leave it fateful

health to me means wealth.

**

Part of being wealthy is family and friends

having a home is also great to me

It’s important that love never ends

and that I’m truly safe and free.

**

So many people don’t have anything to eat

They barely have water and the bit they have is unclean

Where I live in nature is giving and still neat

I have clothes to wear and the grass is green.

**

I’m grateful for my education for the chances given to me

I’m thankful I can travel in planes and in my car

How glad I am that I have music, I can hear and I can see

that I have my dreams, moon and sun and wind and star.

**

Life has given me so much to thank for

civilization, technology, a home and pets

what else do I need, what to I want more?

I am lucky, with me and my three cats.

**

It’s time for saying prayers

to be thankful and feeling blessed

And to send our thanks to the One

and see them properly addressed.

*****

(Copyright: Aurora Jean Alexander, November 2019)

 

Picture courtesy of Klusster.com

 

 

5th Halloween Poem Contest – And The Winners Are…

Picture courtesy of https://northernnatalcourier.co.za


Picture courtesy of: http://preventioncdnndg.org/


The jury has decided!

Today I’m writing representing the Jury of the 5th Halloween Poem Contest 2019.

The winners of the contest are:

Halloween by Donna Matthews

Don’t let them in by MacKenzie Tastan

The Witching Hour by Valerie Cruz

(The winners are listed in order of their submissions)

Thank you so much for your amazing poems, winners! You will get an email today.
______________________________________________

Our three winners of the contest can choose one of the offered e-books.

Signed Paperbacks with a T-Shirt of Hiding from the Light – OR – Winter’s Ghost – OR – The Painting written by Raymond Walker
E-book of A Horse by Any Other Name: A Doctor Butterbaugh Mystery – OR – E-book of A Girl and Her Dog: A Short Story – OR – At the End of the Rainbow – OR – What you wished for, written by Sherry Perkins
E-book of “Soul Taker” – OR – ‘Sundance‘ written by Aurora Jean Alexander

CONGRATULATIONS!

It was a difficult decision for the jury. But we had a lot of fun and want to thank all poets for their wonderful poems.

______________________________________________

Thank you, Raymond Walker and Sherry Perkins for their jury work and offering one of their books to the winners. I appreciate your help and support!


Now, please permit me a word on my own account:

The Halloween-Poem Contest has brought us all a lot of work and fun and many wonderful Halloween poems, showing how much talent there is around.

However, it also showed us, with this year having the lowest number of participants, that our poets have shown all their skills within the Halloween theme. 

After five years of organizing the Annual Halloween-Poem Contest and hosting it on ‘Writer’s Treasure Chest,’ I think it is time for something new.

It was five years of fun and I wanted to thank everyone, all participants, and in particular all jury members from the first to the last contest, for making this a wonderful experience for me! Thanks so much for all your work, your help, your support – and the wonderful books you offered as prizes in the five years! You all are amazing, not only as authors but also as wonderful friends!

Good Bye Halloween-Poem Contest. It was great.

A. J. Alexander

Back To Fall

As soon as it’s November
the pumpkins will be gone
the skeletons are in the attic
free of ghosts is our lawn.

**

For a moment there is silence
in peace, our life can stay
for just one small and little moment
before the next big holiday.

**

Enjoy the break and get your strength
you will need it you will see.
Go for walks enjoy the season
be relaxed, and smile, feel free.

**

But first of all, before the break
We need to work and take a beat
to get us through the pumpkin time
and play the trick or treat!

*****

(Copyright: Aurora Jean Alexander, October 2019)

5th Halloween Poem Contest – 4th And Last Group Of Submitted Poems —

Picture courtesy of http://preventioncdnndg.org/


Please respect each authors’ and poets’ copyright. The rights remain with the writers. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from each of the poems author’s is strictly prohibited and violates copyright laws in the country you are reading this work in as well as in the country you are trying to re-publish this work in. – Aurora Jean Alexander


The Witching Hour

by

Valerie Cruz

When willows arch their backs in reverence,
bowing toward the earth below.
When evening breezes messenger the coming of the moon’s pale glow.

When night birds telegraph their omens,
fresh from lunar heights, foretold and hearth sides showcase flames emblazoned,
burnished embers edged in gold.

From deep in silent, grassy places sodden with late-evening air.
Ambivalent to strange embraces,
lilies bring their buds to bear.

Amidst the stony tributaries built to those no sound may reach.
To evidence impermanence,
engraved with lessons, yet to teach.

Here begets the Witching Hour, slivered apex of the night.
All at once, begun and ended,
metaphor for mortal plight.

Taunts all life with fear and splendor,
dreams of flying, long since lost.
Tempts the grave with memories tender.
Glimpse the light, whatever cost.

Coiled within the misty shadow,
serpentine and poised to strike, lay the horrid reckoning
feared by both chaste and foul alike.


Graveyard Speed Dating

by

Chris Meredith

The cold and misty air contains a deathly musk
A stench that hovers over the graves
Stirring from the ground of depth
Lost souls looking upwards to be saved

Bony hands clutch their invitation
Tight to their skeletal chest
They hope to attract a new dead mate
One they can touch and maybe caress

Darkness is their familiar friend
As they sit beside their first date
Beauty is in the socket of the beholder
As a specialty, their head rotates

Stripped of flesh and brains
They now judge on spirit alone
They talk about previous lives
And reminisce about earthly homes

The church bell sounds its tune
Its time to swap around
The truth is they will never find new love
While they all sleep six feet underground


NIGHTMARES

by

Agnieszka Filipek

1.

it’s night
the avenues burning
in moonlight
the death of a child
jumping
from a roof

horses with iron hooves
pulling the corpse
the skull slamming
on the curb
ghouls fighting
over the remains

dawn startled
escaping into the trees
and his coat
caught by rain
dragging
blooded

2.

finding
my mauled body
damp in a ditch
darkness
stretches its arms
threatens to embrace

even my kitten of hope
is falling off
the fence
and a roadside scarecrow
is gouging out
his eyes

3.

I cannot sleep
close my wet eyes
with your hand
with your lips cover
the gates of nightmares
sit beside me


 

5th Halloween Poem Contest – 1 Day Left – Hurry Up!

Picture courtesy of http://preventioncdnndg.org/


 

Deadline for the contest is

October 31, 2019 – 9 pm Pacific Time

Hurry up!

Every author and poet are invited to participate and deliver a “Halloween-Poem” to my email address:

aurorajean.alexander@aol.com

together with their picture and a link to their website, a social media account or blog

  • Your poem needs a Halloween theme.
  • Your poem needs a minimum of 99 words.
  • Your poem has to be delivered to my email address between October 10 and Halloween, October 31, 2019, at 9 pm Pacific Time.
  • Your poem has to be delivered together with your picture and a link to your blog/page.
  • Please avoid violence, bad language, and sexual content within the poems. It would be disqualified.

Thank you very much for participating and making it very hard for the jury to decide on the winners!

5th Halloween Poem Contest – 3rd Group Of Submitted Poems —

Picture courtesy of: http://preventioncdnndg.org/


Please respect each authors’ and poets’ copyright. The rights remain with the writers. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from each of the poems author’s is strictly prohibited and violates copyright laws in the country you are reading this work in as well as in the country you are trying to re-publish this work in. – Aurora Jean Alexander


Halloween Halls

by

Ashley R. Clayton

 

There is a being, you see, upon this evening’s brow;
two stories up, where the night’s extinguished candle was used to enshroud.
Over the flame she turned, over their breath she heard, their pensive dishes of gruel and meat,
their spoons clashing, bread ripping, as they spoke of things without understanding;
without understanding at all.

Notes of music spilt onto the wooden floors; clanging mouths and spit soon sealed every door.
A rush away, chains soon met.
Truth was heard whispering nevermore;
it was beckoned back through the Hall’s front doors.

Now with violence ripped and pages fell,
Darkened calendars and lighted gold,
the lady of the manor haunts her lonely, ever darkened but discreet,
Halloween Halls.


Don’t Let Them In

By

MacKenzie Tastan

A party had gathered the night of Samhain
When a stranger arrived. “Won’t you please let me in?”
He was no acquaintance; his horse threw a shoe.
With the rain, might he stay and enjoy the fun, too?
His hair, black as pitch; his frame, mighty tall:
The ladies were swooning all over the hall.

In this golden era when Victoria was queen,
By turns they told ghost stories each Halloween.
The house master waited. He told his tale last.
His guests scarcely breathed till the story had passed.

His ancestor conquered this manor by siege
And ousted the king who had long been its liege.
But people still loved him. For full victory
The conqueror lashed the old king to a tree.
In public he severed the fingers and toes
Of the king one by one. Then he lopped off his nose.

The dying man gave his last curse to the land:
“You may prosper today. You may think your luck grand.
But I promise you this: Nuada shall return!
My torture and murder will be overturned
When I visit on you what you’ve given to me.
Not even your children will ever be free!”

The master’s eyes gleamed as he warned the hushed hall,
“One night he’ll come back here to murder us all!”

By now, all the house guests were too scared for bed.
As midnight approached, the house mistress said,
“It’s time to tell fortunes. Who wants to go first?”
They fled to the parlor from thoughts of the curse.

They each took an apple and sliced it nine ways
In front of the mirror. They’d find true love’s gaze
By eating eight pieces, then tossing the last
Over shoulder by candlelight. Inside the glass
Some claimed to see friends or that gleam in the eyes
Of the one they loved best, like young Lydia’s prize:
The stranger in darkness who stole her first kiss
While the guests, rapt with stories, saw nothing amiss.
At last her turn came, but her lover had gone:
Vanished into the night with the horse he rode on.

Young Lydia, pretty, the house’s last daughter,
Saw gilded glass ripple like midnight water.
Her love’s noseless visage grinned wide like a skull:
“King Nuada’s back! Now your family line’s null!”

Nine months, and poor Lydia brought forth a son.
Her father’s grim gaze knew whose battle was won.
In the boy shone the stranger. No fingers or toes.
The most frightening thing was his lack of a nose.

Now Lydia nurses her babe by the hour,
Guarding his life from her family’s power.
No mere mortal child will inherit the land:
One look at his face shows King Nuada’s brand.

On Samhain, the veil between worlds grows too thin.
Be wary of strangers and don’t let them in.


A Father’s Hallowe’en message.

By

V. M. Sang

 

I Died.
I didn’t want to go.
I left my wife and daughter so
I cried.

I thought
I could no longer see
All their future without me.
I fought.

I found
That each All Hallows Eve,
I could return—I need not grieve.
Not bound.

I come
On to them each Hallowe’en.
They do not know. I am not seen.
I’m dumb.

They live
And I surround them both
With all my love. I am not loath
To give.

Here ends my tale.
I will be filled with endless glee
When they come to dwell with me
Beyond the veil.


Picture courtesy of https://www.rmusentrymedia.com/

 

A Little Night Music

by

Laurie Corzett

She appeared
out of the night.
Dark mystery arousing
curiosity,
distraction, concern.
(When will I ever learn
to let these heartbreaks
in the making
pass me by?)

Voodoo of attraction,
sacrosanct intimacy.
Impelled to submit in throes
of flagrant ecstasy.
Do what you will with me
in our secret rendezvous.
Then relinquish me to go
back to my wastrel ways.

She grabbed me with such force
I felt I could die.
And that was just her eye
pulling me close
to continue
our conversation.
Great conflagration
arose in my heart.
So adept at her art
of igniting
imagination.

Cruel fate
mocks nocturnal fantasies.
Yet, swept up in delight,
facing dualities,
the wrong and the right,
I too easily sell my immortal soul
for her eternal night.

She tastes my sin
drip laughing from my skin.
I freely forswear my life.
Fierce pierce and suck
lunge in the for kill.
There’s no greater thrill.
We descend into dark fall.
Fade into shadow before approach of light.