Category Archives: Slice of Life – Two Writing Teachers

Drop It Like It’s Con

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I spent the weekend in Atlanta at 221BCon. It’s an annual fan convention celebrating Sherlock Holmes. It started out, and it’s primary focus is, BBC’s “Sherlock”, fanfiction writers and readers, and now includes Sherlock Holmes in all the varying incarnations of television, film, radio, books and of course the original Arthur Conan Doyle stories. Over the years it has given nods to Good Omens and other fandoms with similar esthetics. OFMD fans anyone? (Either you know, or you do not –so not explaining it.)

In the months, weeks, days, hours leading up to it were its own type of agony as enthusiasm mounted. Twitter groups for the event were active nearly 24 hours in the final couple pf days leading up to hit. But it’s these last couple of days after that are my focus.

I made it home late Sunday night.  I should have taken Monday off. Overworking arse that I am did not, and around 2pm I was reminded of why. I had been in since 7:30, my usual Monday busy little bee when it hit me. This overwhelming exhaustion and complete sense of loss. I did not want to be there. It took a moment to realize what hit me.

Convention Drop.

Also known as Vacation Drop. It’s something that happens after you get home from a vacation, convention, bash any multi-day fun event, especially one where you had to travel. It was the moment my heart, mind, soul, and body came completely down from the massive adrenaline high of the previous days of fun at the convention.

It hit hard.

I wanted to be back in Atlanta. I wanted to be back at the convention. I wanted to attend another panel. Go up to the writers room. Hang out and chat with fellow writers. Play another round of “Sherlock Against Humanity”, a customized BBC “Sherlock” themed version of Cards Against Humanity, that is just as hilarious for all the right, yet wrong, reasons. I wanted to eat some more of the oh so good food discovered at Tom, Dick and Hank’s restaurant. I wanted to meet and chat with other fellow fic writers whose work I’ve admired for years. To be in the room where it happened with people who immediately get the jokes and snark references that pepper some of my conversation. Because for all of the people I have seen this weekend, I am learning I have missed crossing paths with others who were there and dammit I wanted to go back and meet them!

I was sitting at my desk at work and the longing for Con and to be with my Sherlock tribe again was so deep it made me want to cry. That’s how hard it hit. I knew of the phenomenon, but it had never happen to me before. Not even after travelling to Dubai or Antarctica. Those are two trips where it certainly should have hit, but no. Having it hit after only three days in Atlanta showed me just how much being around so many like-minded lunatics meant to me, that the loss of it was one hell of a shock to my system. That was when I remembered why I usually take the day after such events off. I need the time to reset myself across the board, do laundry and have a day to ease back into my normal insane life.

I’m fine now. Already have next year’s convention in my calendar with a couple of days before so I can tour a little of Atlanta, but most important, that much needed day off after.

The game is on!

Let’s see how others are slicing it out this Tuesday…

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Slice of Life Tuesdays
Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

But Soft What Spring Through Lovely April Breaks

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Arise sweet spring for signs of you have sprung

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned I get to enjoy the sight of Venus in the late-winter, early spring mornings on my walk to the train station for work. It the very first sign of spring for me, but there are others.

The landscapers for The Commons around my job arrived last week. Gone are the winter evergreens, and the first shoots of the annual tulips are breaking through the ground. In another week or so the area will be awash in the reds, oranges, and yellows of tulips in the garden beds. With the addition of daffodils and lillies, the white blossoms of the dogwoods and always the pinks of the cherry blossoms the next few weeks will be awash springs bright colors. I will love it as I always do, but surprisingly, or not, for all the visual beauty that is the coming spring, it is not my favorite part.

My favorite part is aural.

The blocks I walk are tree-lined and have begun to bud in their own markers of spring, but it’s their occupants that hold sway for me. I step out my building, cross the street and there it is, a sweet trilling; the first calls of the day. Birdsong. For the next couple of week, my walk to the train station will time with the waking of the local flocks of pigeons and quarrels of sparrows. And as the mornings become brighter, if I’m lucky,I am also treated to flashes of robin and cardinal reds or the less frequently seen blue of a jay.

And yes, even the occasional caws of murdering crows and the conspiracy of ravens have greeted my mornings.

Oh, I am in no way, shape or form, an ornithologist. It is the decades of living in different NYC neighborhoods, and my penchant to look up, that have made me observant of more than just the people and pets that share the sidewalks with me.

The chirping of birds in my mornings is also a harbinger of the coming winter when their waking and my walking will again align, but we shan’t speak of such ill things right now. No. No. No.

This is the time for the most vernal of thoughts and I am here for it.

Let’s see how others are slicing it out this first Tuesday of April…

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Slice of Life Tuesdays
Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

And Press “Pause”

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Today is the finish line for the 15th Year Slice of Life Story. It’s been a great run. I have not missed a day, and while I have definitely pants it close a couple of times this month, this is the first year I was never in danger of missing a post for 2022. I must say, that’s a pretty good feeling. Alas, another 31 days and flavors is in the books. Off to the next big thing, right. Hmmmm, not exactly.

Usually I go straight from the Slice of Life Writing Challenge straight into National Poetry Writing Month as I have done for the past several years.  

However, there are 18 items sitting in draft mode here on WordPress alone. Some are partially done poems needing tweaking, some essay ideas to be fleshed out, three are nothing more than a couple of lines of an idea I want to work with at some point. There’s a book I’ve been working with off and on for a couple of years. There’s my fanfiction. And let’s not talk about the literal pages of ever multiplying plot bunnies clamoring to be fleshed out into something more. Thus, I know it is not because I do not have anything to say. Because in spite of Muses best efforts to get as much out of me and onto paper, canvas and pixels, it’s all bottle-necked. I don’t like that for all my output, the things I want out the most are not getting out there. And I don’t know why.

I don’t like not knowing.

I do consider myself a decent story-teller, and yes, it pleases me that some want to hear/read what I have to say whether in poem, prose, essay, blog or my Verbal Diarrhea Diaries, but I also feel something of a responsibility to that which will remain behind in these pixels long after I am gone. Because one edict I did have is this: if I felt strongly enough about something to put it out there, even if I must apologize later [and as a Virgo who abhors being -gasp- wrong, believe me, I avoid being in that situation like it’s plague], I may edit or tone it down, but I do not take it back.

Noticed that did in there?

It is that responsibility, where I have increasingly found myself thinking of better ways to express a thought coherently only after I hit ‘publish’, which has me galled to no end. Between the bottleneck mentioned above, and this lexical lethargy has become increasingly worrisome and hit its head earlier this week. La Impostrata, a personification of the Imposter Syndrome coined by fellow blogger and real life friend GirlGriot, struck big time and for the first time ever I trashed something I wrote. No, I did not return it to draft mode to be pondered over and reworked for another time – I trashed it. And then trashed the trash can in my perturbment. I can all but hear writer friends of mine gasp in the horror at this cardinal writing sin. I know, I KNOW! I sincerely apologize to you for that horrid lapse in judgement. But mostly I apologize to myself because as a person who has files with snippets of discarded writings in the belief it will be used elsewhere later, I damn sure know better. I am ashamed of myself. Something has to give.

So rather than submit myself to another month of more writing pressure, I’m choosing to press pause on challenges for now. I’m going to step back and sit out this year’s National Poetry Writing Month.

Oh, I will still write and post poems in April, fret not (not that those who know me were). There is no way Calliope, Erato or Melpomene are easing up on me. It just won’t be for the next thirty days straight. Naturally, I’ll be here on Tuesdays for our weekly slices.

I want to feel comfortable in what I write, whether it is poems, blogs, short stories, flash and fan fiction. That the something I say that makes sense. Sometimes I need to write because I feel confident that what I say that will inform or entertain others and sometimes I need to read so that I can be better informed and entertained myself. What I will always need regardless, are times when no matter what is going on in my life I pick up my pen.

I’m simply allowing myself the grace to ease up on the writing pressures I put on myself.

We made it! Day 31 of 31 – Let’s see how others are slicing it out this final day of the challenge.

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Unheard Spokesperson

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How’s my day, well the past three days, going so far…? I’ll let my current Facebook post answer that:

screenshot of my Facebook post: bemoaning a twenty-minute conversation on alopecia and the literal politics of black hair, only to be told “But it’s just a hair style.”

** mentally inserts every facepalming gif in existence here **

Of course, the conversation started with the slap heard around the world. I segued away from it being about the men involved and focused on the woman involved that few are talking about. The trials of alopecia for any person, but especially women, and why it’s such a big deal for black women in particular. That naturally lead to the point of the Crown Act and why it’s important, just to be told “But it’s just a hair style” after all of that. Arrggh!

I know I gave her The Look. I imagine my face must have said everything while several generations of great-grandmothers, my grandmothers on both sides and Mommie all reached out from their graves and held back my tongue, as Jesus whispered in the person’s ear um -yeah, that’s a bit not good, turn and go, my child and Lucifer concurred Yo, even I thinks ya betta walk the fuck away from her right now. My jaw still feels some kind of way weird, from the teeth ground so hard in that moment that likely kept me employed as the person made their excuse and hastened away.

Day 30 of 31 – Let’s see how others are slicing it out today…

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

I Knew It!

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Last night as I chose on my clothes for today, I pulled out a turtleneck. Despite it officially being spring, by the calendar, I knew it was going to be cold today.

This morning I look at my footwear. Originally, I had selected loafers, I switched to booties. I knew it was going to be cold today.

I look out the window and see the tree branches yield to wind. Soft open knit beret? – Sorry, you’re on the bench. Tightly knit grey toque – suit up! I knew it was going to be cold today.

Last, but hardly least, I pull my red pea coat into service. After all, I knew it was going to be cold today.

Forewarned and armed, I open my front down and head down the stairs. I reach the curb to cross the street. Now away from my building protecting me from it, a gust of wind sneaks around and slams into me. I mean, I’m physically shifted from the ferocity of it. How rude!

So what comes out of my mouth: “Holy f—! I didn’t know it was going to be cold today!”

[A warm thank you to Amy Ellerman for the honor of using my post, Amused and Bemused, in today’s Be Inspired section at Two Writing Teachers.]

Day 29 of 31 – Let’s see how others are chilling in a good way and slicing it out today…

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Book Bash the Final Countdown

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For the TL;DR crowd who have yet to google, in a nutshell, GISH is a Guinness World Record-setting, several day, international event that empowers players to push their creative boundaries, tackle hilarious challenges, and perform incredible acts of kindness, most from the comforts of their own home. The event features special guests, literary challenges and more. The Book Bash Mini-Hunt! this weekend is thirty-six hours and while more literary oriented, no less wonderfully chaotic.

Because I did not want to leave the house, I chose four out of the nearly 100 challenges to accept. Since I never attempted fumage art before, I did what I thought would be the hardest out and got it of the way first with yesterday’s create a sign protesting the banning of books. I was wrong. The next challenge turned out to be, not so much harder, but a lot more detailed and time consuming. Create a portrait of LeVar from quotes from famous black authors and activists. I have yet to see other artists’ interpretations, but here is my entry:

Levar Burton with the entirety of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s
“I Have a Dream” Speech. Click for full size.

I posted my entry to my Instagram account, tagged GISH and thought nothing of it. And then THIS happened… So, imagine my shock of all shocks when I saw the first “Like” on it, and who it was from!

Misha Collins "Likes" my GISH art!
Misha Collins “Likes” my GISH art!

I’m sure this is something curated by his staff and all of us who took up this specific challenge also got a “Like”, but it’s from his official account and it looks so cool on my account.

My third chosen challenge was a breeze. @yung_pueblo posts lovely meditative poetry on Instagram. Write your own poem in his style. Post yours on Instagram:

Because sometimes we need to remember to take a moment to put down our loads, lift up our feet and just chill...
Because sometimes we need to remember to take a moment to put down our loads, lift up our feet and just chill… Click for full size.

Because I like futzing around with photoshop I was volunteered by our team’s captain to do the challenge of taking a screenshot of barren land from Google Maps and overlay a Photoshop image, as if you have carved into the earth. Make it, of a message or drawing that would be seen from space. The message should be a call for help, as if a passing space fleet of benevolent aliens might see and come rescue us from ourselves.

Don't bomb us! Rescue us! We have Girl Scout cookies!

Because even aliens know Girl Scout Cookies are out of this world! (Or maybe they think the cookies are made from actual Girl Scouts. Hmm, maybe I should have checked the “To Serve Man” menu.)

And finally, I did it just because: According to GISH, not everyone knows this, but the first novel ever written and the world’s first science-fiction novel were both penned by women authors. In honor of these literary trailblazers, show us Frankenstein’s monster reading a copy of The Tale of Genji.

A modern-day Frankenstein's creature listen's to tunes while reading the ultimate classic.
A modern-day Frankenstein’s creature listen’s to tunes while reading the ultimate classic. Click for full size.

Yes, Creach -what? he was never given a name- is wearing earbuds and listening to “Monster Mash”, don’t judge his musical choices!

Still, as much fun as it was, it was a lot of hours on my computer without break. At 8pm, I called it quits. All I know is, if this was a mini one, I’m part excited, part terrified to experience a full one.

Day 28 of 31 – Let’s see how others are slicing it out today…

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Book Bash the First 24 Hours

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Logo for Gish Book Bash March 26-27, 2022

To give you just a tiny piece of how Book Bash works here’s a what I thought would be an easy challenge to try:

“It was a pleasure to burn.” Using pyrography or fumage, create a sign proOtesting book bans and censorship.

Fumage you say? Having never done it before, my (not-so) inner pyromaniac and artist vibe were both sparked to say the least.

Book Bash is a mini GISH, so I only have thirty-six hours. The very first step was to remind myself I’m using unfamiliar techniques. I won’t have time to dedicate to just one challenge for corrections or perfection. It’s not going to look exactly like I envision it in my head, but I can do this. Okay, pep talk over, let’s get some fire going!

Ray Bradbury was right. “It was a pleasure to burn.”

What books shall I choose? I wanted a mix of classic and current books that have been banned and these quickly came to mind.

Photo of covers of some of the many books that have been banned.

Let’s see: glue, scissors, paint and a fresh reminder to tell the Virgo in me to zip it(!), and the here’s end result:

Art protesting the banning of books. quote: Pay attention to the books people try to ban then go read them. Find out for yourself why those people want it banned. Then decide for yourself, can they be trusted to know what's best for you.

I may yet do this over when I have oodles more time to block text, properly arrange the “logs” and about fifteen other things I am internally screaming about, but here it is.

And this is just ONE challenge my team and I completed. 24 hours down, 12 more to go.

Stay tuned…

Day 27 of 31 – Let’s see how others are slicing it out today…

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Book Bash

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Logo for Gish Book Bash March 26-27, 2022

It’s Book Bash! No, I’m not destroying or talking bad about books. At least I hope not!

Gish Book Bash, a virtual scavenger hunt that is part silliness, part art, part kindness and 100% fun, for readers & writers is hosted by actress/author Felicia Day and Misha Collins (yes, Supernatural fans THAT Misha Collins). IBook Bash is a breath of fresh Eyre for writers and readers around the world.

A portion of all GISH Book Bash registrations will help feed Ukrainian refugees through World Central Kitchen, a non-profit currently on the ground in Ukraine and surrounding countries. They are preparing for this to be one of their largest relief efforts to date, and they will continue to adapt as they scale up to serve more meals to families in need each day.

I joined a team of fellow book weirdos who will soon Get lit! and take on creative and kind challenges designed to help write a new chapter of fun in our lives. So that’s the post for today for I will be sorta busy for about thirty-six hours.

Day 26 of 31 – Let’s see how others are slicing it out today…

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Thug Life

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The subway was being extra subway this morning and long story-short La Raivenne emerged like a phoenix from the bowels of the train some thirty minutes later than my usual. All in all, per usual in such situations, conversation -aka gripes about transit- was struck with fellow passengers and despite the annoying delay, it was a pleasant ride; I was in good spirits. We had a chuckle when I joked that I was going to tell the motorman to drive like he stole drug money and had both the Bloods and The Crips on his tail, “but safely for us riders, of course“. I was accused of being thug because I mentioned infamous West Coast gangs. I jokingly retorted with my classic “I’m crazy, not stupid“. I don’t know what young blood on the train might be affiliated with an East Coast gang, I wasn’t risking calling one out.

I may have been kidding about the motorman, but apparently the motorman was not because the train then hauled arse in attempt to get something akin to back on schedule. I was only a few minutes late by the clock when I reached my station. At this point I was in for a pence-in for a pound, so an additional few minutes to treat myself to my usual TGIF Starbucks was not going to make that big of a difference. Because I have ordering down to a science, I had already pull out my phone and placed my mobile order for Starbucks before I reached street level.

It’s Friday, I’ve got tunes from my iPod in one ear accompanying me and I’m striding along to my personal soundtrack. I see a gentlemen coming from the opposite direction and we nearly collide choosing to pass on the same side of a street lamp at the last second. I smoothly circle around, barely missing a beat with the music. I hear “Daaayum, g’won witcha thug strut now woman!” in a lyrical masculine Caribbean accent behind me and know it is the man I just passed who was apparently watching me.

It’s not the first time I’ve been told I walk like a thug. I walk hard. I strut. I know this. My sons even mock me on it. Now that spring has warmed up the temps a bit, my cold weather arthritis has eased, and I’m not labored down in heavy winter clothes, my normal catwalk stride was emerging again. I grin to myself, give a little wiggle in acknowledgement of having heard him, but I keep going not inviting further conversation, priorities, I’ve got coffee waiting.

At last I walk into Starbucks. I’m some forty-something minutes past the time I usually enter, so there are more people on shift behind the counter. Lina sees me enter and waves. “Hey Raivenne! I’ve got your food here, your drink is…”

Before she can finish a familiar locced head lifts from behind the espresso maker and I grin. I have not seen Jaymes but once since my return to office and that was back in autumn. We always had bad jokes for each other and it was as though no Covid time had passed seeing each other as we pick right up.

“RAIVENNE! I thought you were dead!”

Because I am still plugged into my iPod, it was serendipitous timing that had me right at the chorus of a song, so I sing it. “You cannot kill what doesn’t die!”

Jaymes blinks at me as he finishes an order. I realize he is likely just over a third of my age. The song is not likely in his iTunes, but I am pretty sure he recognizes it. However another customer clearly knows it and picks right up behind me. “Live up to my promise, my full potential realized!”

As the guy and I high-five in musical comradery, I can see when Jaymes makes the connection. “Woman, I know you haven’t had your coffee yet because I’m making it! It’s barely eight in the morning; how are you thrashing to Anthrax?”

“What can I tell you Jaymes? It’s Friday: today, I choose violence.” I say ominously.

He laughs handing me my coffee.”If Death lives in your pocket, please keep him there.”

I grin at the reference to the song lyrics, I was right he did know the song. Still, while I leave murder to crows, I am a Raivenne.

I wink, take my coffee and turn to leave, “Jaymes, you’ve met me. You sure Death is a he?”

As I reach the door I hear the customer who had joined me in singing Anthrax say, “Damn she lit!”

“No, she’s thug!” Lina, who had been passing food orders to customers, laughs.

That’s three thug references to me within an hour’s span. I’m not choosing the thug life, the thug life is choosing me today.

We’ll see how the rest of the day thugs out …

Day 25 of 31 – Let’s see how others are slicing it out today…

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

A Community Doing Good    

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I have an email just for shopping. If I’m not actively shopping, when it gets crowded, I select all unread and delete. I was just about to do that when this tagline caught my eye: Don’t want Mother’s Day emails?

Um… Wait… What?

Name something I never expected to see, but have wanted to see, until I saw it? This ⬇

Image Etsy email offering potential shoppers the ability to opt out of Mother's Day and Father's Day email, if either or both of the holidays are difficult for them to get through.

This is perfect for people like me. My parents are long gone and I have no elder figures in their place I wish to honor. This is even better for those whose parental figures have recently passed and it will hurt to be reminded. While Mother’s Day is bittersweet for me, Father’s Day is the day I like to avoid. Yes, my head understands the sentiment that others pour out for their dads, however my heart does not forget it was never my reality. It bothers me just enough that I generally stay off social media the third Sunday in June because of it. There’s only but so much scroll on by if you don’t like it that I can do on an all day celebration.

Thus I know this offer from Etsy is also good for those like me in contentious or damaged relationships that may not want to be bothered by/reminded of such. If we choose to make a purchase for someone, or something, otherwise unrelated to Mother’s/Father’s Day, we can go in ourselves and find something. We will do so understanding the celebration is going to be splashed all over the Etsy site itself, but we go in knowingly and mentally prepared for this. We really don’t need our email inboxes inundated with such, for the next two plus months, to boot.

So yes, I am absolutely grateful to the geniuses that came up with this, and more importantly, implemented it. I give them my sincere thanks for their forward thinking and care on this.

My title for this blog post comes direct from Etsy’s own tagline. I generally thought it referred to their community of small business sellers, their products wares and the good they do. It is wonderful to note that they see the community, aka the world at large, as the people we are beyond the profit margins. I truly hope other places follow suit.

Day 24 of 31 – Let’s see how others are slicing it out this Thursday…

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers