Tag: writer

Acknowledgement is the first step

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

My mind feels full.

Full of characters:
their personalities,
their thoughts,
and dialogue exchanged with others.

Full of phrases
simple and complex
to live in stories
or essays
or poems.

Full of scenes
replaying in memoried fragments
requesting reimagination
and depersonalization.

To empty my mind
on to the page
requires a vulnerability
that, right now,
feels insurmountable.
Fear of pain, of exposure,
of inadequately capturing
my imagination
with words.

Acknowledgement is the first step.

virtual retreat

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

The past four days
have been a gift.
Coming here,
to the office desk space
beneath the east-facing window
in the back bedroom of the house.
Here,
in a space both virtual and physical
I have reunited with her,
my creativity,
the part of me prone to playing
hide and seek
for now, has settled with me.
Notebook pages
have been filled with ink,
Word documents
have word counts spanning thousands
and all due
to my first-ever writing retreat.
Virtual connection
with writers ranging ages,
provinces and experience,
helped me feel safe
to feel, to release,
and to create,
with much more yet to come.

Deep and heartfelt appreciation to the Saskatchewan Writers’ Guild for creating this opportunity.

I can do it, too

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

If she can work part time
in a store
to pay the bills
and devote her afternoons
to writing her novel,
owning her dream to be a novelist
and tell world
she is a writer
then
I can work my part time job
to pay the bills
and devote my non-work time
to writing my novel
owning my dream of being a novelist
and tell the world
I am a writer.

I can do it, too.

what might have been

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

Another book devoured
within hours.

The joy I experienced
within Lucy’s world
had me skyrocketing
to corners of imagination
and learning sensations of my body
seldom visited
or experienced.

Living out what-if scenarios
in detail
through until the end,
mirroring the tangents
of my own imagination,
I found someone:
a writer, a character,
who thinks the same way I do.

The emotional journey
I traveled with Lucy
both resembled and outshone
similar journeys I have embarked upon
alone.

Solace and comfort and
inspiration
from a single story
of two possible realities
winding and intertwining
together
messy and imaginative
and meant to be
each in their own right.

Maybe whichever path we choose
is the right one
for us at that specific time.
And maybe
life has a way
of interjecting paths together
even after we think
we have left one behind.

– Inspired by the book “What Might Have Been” by Holly Miller

could this be the beginning of something?

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

Digging out the key from the depths of my pocket
and opening wide the little metal door
I receive a sign, a symbol,
that something greater waits for me,
something so great it could not live within
this little metal box.

Hand-delivered to me is a cardboard box.
I recognize it instantly.
My heart leaps beyond my rib cage,
my mouth explodes into a smile
and my skin turns hot and clammy
as I take the box in my hands.
A corner is missing, exposing a corner of pages
within: pages I know, and love, and made.
You’re here.

I tear open the box,
gently extracting the stack of papers,
including four new ones written by someone else.
I feel everything.

I feel tears spring from my eyes
at the compliments,
I feel my head nod and mind expand
at the critiques,
I feel a deep exhale escape my mouth
at the suggested path forward,
I feel my heart race and palms sweat
at the positive encouragement.
I feel safe, and calm, and reunited.

I squeeze the stack of papers
close to my chest, just like she did.
This is coming home to myself.