Register now to get your seat at our October Write-In. Join us for a night of relaxation and inspiration as we create with other writers. There will be food, drinks, raffle prizes, and fun! Hurry! Seats are limited. Come and see what everyone is talking about on October 24th from 7-9 pm at Twisted Vine in Papillion.
They say it takes 21 days to form a habit. Committing to 21 days of anything can seem daunting, but committing to something that is good for you is essential. When I decided to start my journey as a writer, I knew that I enjoyed writing, but it wasn’t until I made it a daily activity that I realized I needed writing. I needed to commit to it. For me, the world is entirely too transient. I long for slower days and simpler times. Writing forces us to do just that. Slow down, simplify our enjoyment, and process reflections.
The nice part about this commitment is that you need very little to get started. Grab a computer, loose-leaf paper, a journal, an old notebook, and begin. If you need help with where to start, I’ve got a book for you available on Amazon. 30 Days of Writing Prompts To Achieve a Higher Sense of Self. These prompts are designed to get you reflecting and thinking while guiding you forward to your most positive self. The key is to set aside time each day where your family knows you’ll be creating, and let the words flow. I give you permission. In addition to the time, find a writing spot with a door that closes. Voluntary isolation is the writer’s best friend.
If you’d like to get started, but you know you need some support and encouragement, contact me today. I will help you get on the road to your creative freedom. I provide writing calendars, writing prompts, motivational emails, etc. All it takes is you making a promise to your inner writer. After all, every single one of us has a writer inside.
Do you know of a friend who needs a kick start? 30 Days of Writing Prompts makes a great gift for the writers in your life. Happy writing!
published by The Sunlight Press
by Tessa A. Adams
There was a time of
intoxication so pure, it would
ignite near a flame. It was
before the valleys and
hills of our skin bore
the price tags of our mothers.
Before our extremities were
monetized.
Before our
bodies bled into the rivers
that threatened us with
drowning.
Egos altered like ours had no place
in the white fences of our
contemporaries.
No.
But we were quite something
weren’t we?
In our broken heels
and our glossy hopes
shining through a thick
film of exhibition.
We tugged at the skirts of
uncertainty.
Our smeared lipstick
and uneven black lines begged
the most glorious destruction.
As pulsing forms we came
together. Magnetic and
hypnotic, the lights brought
us back, each illumination
promised electric freedom.
Didn’t we bridle lightning?
Didn’t we hold it in our hands and –
like sparklers – write in the sky?
I recall watching us
like a spirit. Our eyes were
upturned and unblinking.
Reflecting neither fear or apology.
I remember us.
Altered Ego published by The Sunlight Press
Like egg white
parchment
it sits, glaring
and professing
common truths
“Isn’t it nice?” They say.
Isn’t it just right?” They say.
And you smile because
it is long built
and fits over
the vulnerable
places. Encasing
ashes. Embracing
unsavory desires.
Fingers run
like wild adventurers
over its edgelessness
searching for
something sharp.
Aching to feel
a prick. A flick.
And just over the
silence, the buzz begins.
The restless sound
that comes from
the fertile soft parts.
It’s there.
The pulsing
The intoxication.
So animal-like
A crescendo of
adrenaline cries
out but too late
And for what?
It’s encased in
Perkiness.
It’s desert dry
And those new
and old promises
burn out to the quiet
The nice.
The expected.
After all,
it’s long built.
A revolution is
no match for its walls.
And they continue
suffocating what
begs to be unsettled.
