“Go for the jugular. (If something comes up in your writing that is scary or naked, dive right into it. It probably has lots of energy.)” – Natalie Goldberg. I took my first creative writing class in 1999, and my instructor, I think her name was Sonja, assigned us Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones. […]Read more "Going For the Jugular."
So, about this time of year folks in general, and especially those in the blogosphere, tend to put up year in review posts, or best of the past year posts, or bold, vivid declarations for what they hope the next year will hold and what goals they’d like to accomplish. I am no different. I […]Read more "And What a Year it’s Been. . ."
The first thing they tell you about living in a haunted house is that you will need salt. Little crystal shakers. Big blue boxes with yellow umbrella girls on the side. The collection of glass worn smooth and salty to the taste even decades after you collected them with grubby fingers. They told you salt […]Read more "Talismans"
I was tagged by my friend Nikki Roberti who blogs at http://mrshealthyeverafter.com/2014/11/12/the-liebster-award-10-question-blog-hop/for the Liebster Award. I have to answer her ten questions about my work-in-progress and then tag some more people and give them my own questions. Since I’ve been eating, sleeping, breathing last year’s nano for over a year now I’ll be telling you all […]Read more "Liebster Award ten question Bloggity Blog Hop."
A lot of things happened in 1984. And no, I’m not making any sly Orwellian references here. In 1984 I turned five, my parents got divorced, and my mother had a nervous breakdown requiring a long stay in the state mental hospital. But before all those perhaps more momentous things happened, in June of ’84, […]Read more "The Ineffable Influence of Dr. Venkman."
November stays with you Tree skeletons gone bare and bony Greedy wind snatches handfuls of leaves. Howls through branches A corpse rattle November is amnesia There is no word for summer Sticky with melted ice cream running down fingers Brown streaked painted arms Bodies gone soft under cable-knit. November stays with you Whispering, “stay inside” […]Read more
Fifteen is pencil smudged fingertips Blurred, blended shadows Doubt Scribbled down blue-lined pages of angst Spilled out in erasable form Twenty years later Only yellow smudged pages remain Admit it, you liked being sad. Joy brought nothing but crooked words Foreign as thirty-five’s spectre A meaningless dictionary definition. So you dyed your brown hair black […]Read more "Fifteen and Thirty Five"
So, I’ve been neglecting this little blog rather a lot. August seventh. . . *holds head in hands and mimics my Zaydie in a throaty oy-vey* . . . when I was still riding that glorious #Pitchwars merry-go-round. For those of you on the edge of your seats, though it’s quite old news now, I […]Read more "Reflections on the Ephemeral Nature of Doneness."
My name is Jessica Bloczynski and I wrote a book. Welcome, #Pitchwars kids to Maniac Marmoset. Yes, that means I’m a crazy monkey. Well, not so much a monkey as an ape, but let’s not be pedantic. So, in the universe where this is all about me, where shall I start? FACT THE FIRST: I […]Read more "Unofficial #Pitchwars Mentee Bio, or everything you ever wanted to know about me but didn’t think to ask."