2014 was a year of challenges for me. I had just finished high school and it was officially time to make big decisions for my future. At that time, it was already around three years since I’ve seriously started writing and mainly, all I wanted from life was to have a tiny room, preferably pen and paper and everyone else to keep their distance from me. I wanted to be a writer, you see. I did not want to deal with life outside of my tiny room and imagination. Not because I hated life (no one hates life, trust me), but because I had no idea what to do about it.
At first, as I thought, my life worked. I lived in a box and I was foam-mouth to protect it from any kind of intrusion. Many years went by like one. I discovered with pain in the heart, that all I was truly doing was...
A few months ago I took a very important decision. I decided to take my first in years, month off writing and use the time to recharge my personal resources. It was not easy, especially the first week. I was anxious and wired to the same thought that I was wasting my time. Each day I seemed to became more doubtful about the whole idea, walking close to the edge to stop it all and return my butt back to work. Writing always meant a lot to me, and taking a whole month off felt like a betrayal.
I heard about the importance of systematic vacation a lot, but as most of the people, I was rather skeptical about it. Those who take lots of vacations will hardly achieve anything in their lives, I thought. Besides, if you love what you’re doing, you have nothing to vacate from, hav...
When I say the hardest and lowest paying job, what do you imagine? Maybe, a stiff office without conditioner in the middle of a desert, or a hell kitchen with Gordon Ramsay’s doppelganger shouting and throwing fat beef onto heated oily pan right at your side? Whatever it is, I assure you, my version of the hardest and lowest paying job is something else.
This summer, I decided to change my routine and for some reasons, the idea to change my routine brought me to the idea to sign myself to the most tiring and emotionally draining job of my life. I became the youngest of six women in a farm workers squad.
Each day, we would start our donkeywork at 6 early a.m. and keep working nonstop till afternoon. Under blazing sun, we would carefully gather cucumb...
Okay, my current WIP is not about a world where Death does not exist. What a senseless world it would be where no one dies, right? But the story is close on the tail of ‘what if there was someone who would be able to defeat Death for good and maybe, if lucky enough, to bring all the dead back to life? Would not it be fun to have dead risen from their graves and turned back to their homes and families?
Mmm, and while you're trying to imagine it, here is my little POEM inspired by this 'possible' world.
I remember good days like a vague outline of the bridge which I enter on the days, dark like night sky.
It affects my writing. It affects me. It affects people, I care about. And even though there is no way to dispel clouds from life once and for all, there is still a way to help yourself stay on both feet in the storm of dark days.
Journaling yourself out of anything!
I was 10 years old when I first met people involved in business, self-development, mental/physical health and all of them in one voice were telling about the power of journaling. I was so wired up with their energy and even though I was just a ten years old girl and hardly could tell if I needed to journal myself out of anything (I was writing in my diary sometimes, but most of the ...
I have too many flaws to live a passive life if such kind of life can be called a living.
All goes according to the plan!
I repeated this phrase so many times that even walking blindly ahead started taking a shape of some plan. I did not have plan though, not really. I just had a list of things next to the list of books ‘to read in 2020’ and my willingness to take one tiny step after another tiny step towards something more meaningful.
You will be surprised to know that most of the things I had on that list turned out to be so easy that I still catch myself laughing thinking about them.
Signing for one-hour session with a psychologist was one of those ‘turned to be so easy’ things.
When I started writing QV, which is my debut novel, I had this vague and at the same time clear picture of what the story was about.
It was about Death. Love. Unethical (in some way) Science. Friendship. Hopes. Dreams. Secrets. Family Dramas. Human spirit. Mysteries. It was all about world that existed on the bones of another world.
The motto – what dead is dead, was not working anymore in that new world on the pages on my book.
But you know how it is with stories. They come in dozens. Some leave without even as much as a hi, some stay. This one came as a storm, out of nowhere it shook the clear sky above my head. I grabbed it without thinking. I was sure I could see the story as clear as I never saw any story before. But what a tricky thing. It...
This post is my attempt at journaling online. And it feels different.
Nevertheless, I am willing to try and since I have some things to say, I sincerely hope that this post will be something interesting to read.
Let me begin with quarantine and how this global COVID-19 pandemic affected me. To my own surprise and utter bewilderment, it is not all bad. Scary? Yes! But not bad at all.
Maybe it has something to do with my book that I started writing in the end of September, 2019, which touches on terrifying aspects of immortality and connected to countless outbursts of pandemics throughout the entire history of mankind, but I feel the current situation is no...
Please, don’t get me wrong: this is not a note to add to the established image of a writer. This is a short blog post written by a writer without spectacles.
Spectacles and hat – the main attributes for the sacred ritual of writing through writer’s block (for those who believe such thing exists), and I am sure it does especially in the first years of writing. In some way, I can assure I saw it like one sees a shadow on the dimly lit street in midnight on Halloween. Could be just a vision and yet, what if it was real?!
Another combo to add to the attributes is a cup of steaming drink and a cheap tobacco cigar. Maybe a typewriter.
Well, from all the possible attributes I have only fake pair of spectacles, hat, and a cup of steaming coffee at...
2020 started as a swift spin down. Many plans and goals, hopes and visions were forced to be put on hold. Time slipped through our fingers with the speed of waterfall and I know, many of us feel like there is no hope for this year anymore.
Many of us feel like there is nothing we can do about this year; nothing but wait till it ends.
But what about everyday counts and time irretrievability? After all, no one is responsible for your life but you.
Naturally, this challenging time made all of us, people, to, whether intentionally or not, split into two groups: one that adopts to the new time and the other that lets the worst side of the new world order to consume and break them. And though, now, when I am actually thinking about it, it somehow seems too radica...
Everyone knows the Mad Hatter from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and though I am not implying that you can potentially be as magnificently mad as that fictional character straight out of Lewis Carroll’s imagination, I do say that madness is a matter of circumstances and other factors coming both from inside and outside of you.
But why am I even talking about it? Madness is a serious topic and am I not going too far by starting this serious topic with mentioning the Mad Hatter? I guess, being a fiction writer could explain my sudden association of madness with the Mad Hatter, but the main point of today’s discussion is that everyone, no matter how sainty-painty you are, has a madness trigger and I have a few words on that.
I love the world; this new world where my voice is promised to be heard and where my heart does not have to go through the tunnels of deceiving in order to survive the censured reality of outside world.
I can finally breathe and speak my mind.
I can navigate my life the way I want and enjoy the fruits of the choices that were purely made by me.
I can be honest and I can be fearless.
No more silent compassion anymore!
No more lies.
Now, in this new world, I have the rights to express my opinion and pursue my visions.
As long as my freedom does not take away the freedom of others, I am free.
Or so I thought.
Living in a box with a beautiful view of a promise