It's not that easy, being a writer.
Sometimes, you just want to face-plant your goddamn laptop.
I've had a frustrating couple of weeks, writer-ness-wise.
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Warning: this post discusses terminal illness and Ableism
I watched a normal-looking woman on The One Show sofa, sitting next to the actor Jason Isaacs, and talking about her memoir being turned into a movie (starring, oddly enough, Jason Isaacs.)
(The One Show - for those of you who aren't British - is a Big Deal™.)
Something about her - the woman, Raynor Winn - seemed... off.
But then, I try not to judge too much based on brief interviews - I don't know these people, y'know?
Sometimes people seem off - not least when they're not TV people, and suddenly find themselves talking to the nation in the prime-time flagship slot (Lord knows, that would def. make me seem off!)
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Since my To-Be-Read (TBR) list is continually growing, from time to time I like to throw together a list focussing on some of the (often diverse) titles on there.
Warning: grief, death, serious illness, mental health issues, general trauma
I've always loved Christmas.
But Christmas? It hasn't treated me so well. Especially the whole lead-up-to part of Christmas.
In 2023, my father had brain surgery a few days before Christmas - that was stressful (he's OK now, mostly.)
My grandfather died not long before Christmas in 2018.
Eleven years ago, my other grandparents died at Christmas within four days of each other. We had a double funeral.
...That still wasn't the worst Christmas of my life.
This poem was originally published in the The Brain Is A Noodle publication on Medium, in response to the prompt 'coping by producing' from the lovely Lucy Dan
Today Hurts
‘Now don’t drown in your tears, babe
Push your head towards the air’
— The Editors, Push Your Head Towards The Air.
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| Image by Lucija Rasonja from Pixabay |
A writer is not replaceable — each voice is their own.
A writer is not tameable — each is wild, each answers the call the way that they must.
A writer is not something definable, not something that an algorithm can create, not someone who can be easily pushed aside, not a simple money-making cog, not someone who exists to generate a profit for Capitalism’s insatiable beast.
A writer is someone you pay — art is not a disposable item; writers need to eat.
