Write. Be specific, stay real, let it be as raw as it is; that’s the point. That’s the point of writing about it. Where I cannot write about it, I ask why? If I cannot express it in art, what am I hiding from myself? Is there anything I’m hiding? Or is it only a constraint on time and headspace holding me back? The latter, for sure… And these days, when I say headspace, I mean that there are those who are insistent that writing about most things will self-incriminate. I disagree. It is liberating, not just for the self.
Author: Shona Clingham
Excerpt from my current draft of Book Two in the Immisceo series (Includes spoilers.) They stole through the forest like shadows, breaking through the thicket as dawn broke in the sky. As they left the forest, Ardeo moved fast beneath them and Luciana allowed herself a fleeting moment of peace as a fierce breeze whipped against her face, enough to make her eyes water. Nate clutched her waist. The solid warmth of him at her back should have been comforting. Instead, it was a tightening noose around her neck. He was right. This mission was dangerous. As dangerous as
I was not digging around in the past. It was enough to know where something was buried, that there was something buried to begin with. The tangibility of it gave my pain acknowledgement and in having that, I was able to admit and address my issues without as much fear. I had to trust that between the time that thing was buried and the unearthing of it, I have grown enough so that the buried thing might quake in my shadow, might wither, and fade, so that I can finally have the light, so that it cannot choke
An Open Acknowledgement of Things Falling Apart and Falling Together My silence was mistaken for acceptance and blind obedience. In essence, I’m direct. I’m honest. I’m unafraid to stand up for someone in need—but I suppose by the time I had to defend myself, I was spent, and tangled—utterly undone—and utterly convinced I was worthless. When I finally redefined my boundaries on my terms, it inevitably led to a freedom of sorts, and with it an eventual resilience, but before that terribly unglamorous transition back into womanhood, my efforts were met with outrage from those no longer holding
As a person, you are judged. Regardless of where you take or make your stand on any spectrum, if you’re alive, you will be judged, try as you might to avoid it. You’re judged when you’re too straightforward and judged when you’re too vague. You’re judged if you stand up for yourself but you’re also judged if you simply let someone take advantage of you. You’re judged for taking yourself too seriously and judged for not taking yourself seriously enough. You’re judged if you’re too fat or too thin, too well-groomed or too unkempt. You’re judged for what you appear to be.
Here are seven life lessons I wish I’d known when I was younger which also double as seven things I never want to forget: 1. Take Chances There are a million reasons not to try. You could fill a stadium with those reasons: What if it’s the wrong decision? What if you’re not good enough? What if you fail? If you never try, that’s the same as failure. Success is rooted in taking chances. Don’t wait for permission. You may not get it nor do you need it. 2. Don’t Wait Until You’re Ready It’s easy to put