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En Bloc: Magazine Review

Hello! Welcome back, my lovelies! It’s Magazine Monday… a day early LOL

I really enjoy literary magazines—although the price can be off putting, getting the right one can feel like you’ve found a magical unicorn. When I go to Barnes & Noble, I generally only buy my magazines there. I mostly read on my Nook. Once upon a time, the selection at any given B&N would be relatively the same. Not so this last time. I don’t know if they are selling out, or if the different stores carry different magazines. Also, sometimes the publish date seems like it was a long time ago, but with the ramifications of Covid across so many industries, I’m willing to hold my piece on this.  However, this is an interesting conundrum: I have one near my work and one closer to my home.  If they carry differing magazines, I need to figure out when the ones I like come in at each one. If they are the same and just selling out quick, well. That makes life So. Much. Easier.

I am not going to subscribe. I don’t like reading magazines on my Nook, and the US Post Office has dropped the ball. When Covid hit, I subscribed to 2 magazines. One of them I didn’t get 3 issues of. And  it’s bi-monthly! So half the issues! Yes, they sent them out to me, but really? Once things started opening up… I want to go and browse.

Today I want to talk to you about one of those browsing finds. This is from the Momcation trip to B&N. I found a little imported Literary Zine called En Bloc. It is imported from the UK, and so is one of the ones in the US that has a little bit of a hefty price tag.

The cover is eye catching and fun, a mustachioed popsicle sticking out its tongue. I am happy to say that the insides are also eye catching. The Letter from the Editor(Samuel Leach) has a large chunk of it that has a line drawn through it, and then he begins. Again. Kind of like the last bit of life has been for us.  This magazine has photography, an interview with Bill Plympton, poetry and of course the fiction that I loved. Both the for the enjoyment of reading the story, and for the techniques.

Because I write too. It’s always awesome to find writer’s excelling at telling stories in a different way. “Baby Brownie” by Ian Cowmeadow tells the story both in the past and future. It is handled really well, with the reader (me) never getting lost, and still engrossed in the story and not just geeking out over the writing. “Elanor’s Party” by Dave Gerow is one of the few stories I’ve read in Second Person perspective that really does grab you into the story and not let go.

The issue I found at B&N was the first issue. The second issue looks like it is out, based on their website (link below). I can’t wait to find it in the store.

The stories caught my eye, kept me interested. As I am a fickle, picky reader this is a great feeling! While I did read every story (I skipped most in other magazines—which will remain nameless), however there were 2 that stayed with me.

Overall verdict, not only will I buy again, it is the sort of magazine I want to share with my friends so we can talk about the stories.

En Bloc

https://enbloc.co.uk/shop/

Widow’s Walk

(I wrote this in response to a class assignment. It is inspired by a picture by Rob Gonsalves and the journey of a dear friend. )

Widows walk. They walk along the balcony, pacing out the nights. One step after another, chained to a mast that never comes into view. No skips, no hops for the balcony is dangerous. Weeping into the ocean doesn’t count if you are alone.

Widows walk alone, friends and family woefully out of step. They bear the isolation alone, watching the clouds skittle across the night sky, longing, wistfully, for a glimpse of the one who left them behind. They walk, they pace, they shiver and moan. Even among the crows, they are alone.

Widows walk alone into… . They carve out a path made of stone yet soft as sand. Night becomes day becomes night and still they walk their lonely halls of grief. Typhoons, monsoons, tsunamis break over them. The trick, the widows say, is to let them break. Let them rain down on you, absorb the fury and power of nature into yourself because otherwise it will burn you alive. The clouds on the horizon are puffy and white… or are they a sail in the wind… or will they change as they start to come in. Widows walk alone into…

The unknown. Once you are half of a hole (it’s wrong but it fits and oh how that hurts!) how do you become whole while only half of you is there? Once, you were whole all on your own. You didn’t choose to walk this walk, you didn’t ask for this you didn’t want this–never this– game of life that tossed the rules out on you– why did the rook take the queen– you didn’t know you didn’t want you didn’t mean in when you said you only wanted a minute alone youdidntyoudidntyoudidntyoudidnt

But still. Here we are.

Somber as a post.

Knowing.

Widows
Walk
Alone

Copyright 2020 Wynelda Deaver

#becausewecan: 82 Cards

A lot of things are going on in the world right now, and what we need is inspiration. The docotrs and scientists need inspiration to find a way to navigate us out of this mess. And we need inspiration to help us remain human and connected in a world of social distancing.

Some things happened the weekend of March 20th that inspired me. Some people inspired me. The first was Jennifer Pastiloff. If you dont follow her on Facebook or Instagram, you should. In the face of losing her livlihood, she decided to hang on by asking “How may I serve?” She did one of her classes online for a donation… to help feed others. To buy diapers, food. To help. She could have set it up and done her confrences that way– Zoomed her way into a paycheck. I still think she should consider it. But at this time, when we needed help, we needed to remember that you can always find 5 beautiful things right here and now… she gave me that reminder. That hope.

The other person that inspired me was Jon Bon Jovi. He did a video of the start of the song and asked that the people watching help write the rest. I don’t remember the name of the song, but i do remember thinking that he has already made an anthem for these crazy days. Because We Can. And also Army of One.

Those who know me know that Bon Jovi wrote the soundtrack to my life. At one point I toyed with writing a monologe set to their music. Is it any wonder that when I was looking for inspiration and comfort and the “Hell yes we can do this!” I turned to them, to the band that I grew up beside?

So.

How many have seen the meme about writing cards to seniors in rehab care facilities? On Monday night i got a wild hair and called the one Dad had been in here locally.  They have 82 people there. Writing cards is my super power. I dont just sign my name, I write. 

And then God laughed. I wrote Tuesday. I came home from work Wednesday and crashed (essential employee). I wrote Thursday. Ended up on the phoen a lot Friday, still wrote thouh. I wrote on my breaks. I wrote on my lunch. I wrote on Saturday and on Sunday morning. And at some point, your brain goes to sleep and magic happens and you’re just creating.

I delivered 82 cards on Sunday. All the cards opened with “To My Special Friend” and ended with the note that they are special and they are loved. I signed only with my first name. No phone number, no return address. Because while it would be great to know if the right card got to the right person… I am fighting my need for positive reinforcement.

I did it because I am an #Armyofone, and #becausewecan.

And also because Jen Pastiloff asked “How May I Serve?”

You can write your own way….

I know. It sounds crazy pants, doesn’t it?

But you can write your own way.

You might not get published. You might self publish and not sell enough to make money. I know those are the dreams, the goals, the reason many park but in chair. But it’s ok to write what you want, what you enjoy. You don’t know where those secret little scribbles that you only share with your very best friends (If them) will take you.

Sometimes those secret scribbles take you in a direction you never knew existed.

Sometimes it’s where you hone your voice, cut your teeth on the truth your soul wants to release into the world. This is art. Our art. Shouldn’t we be writing what brings us joy and makes us giggle or touches our own heart first?

And sometimes…..

You find out that those secret scribbles that you never knew where to send have a place in the world.

So. Go forth and write your own way.

Who knows where it will lead?

Typing with my eyes wide shut

Soon I may have mentioned that I’m taking writing classes. I started taking classes at Writers Village again mainly to get writing again. Which I Am! Score! I’m pushing myself, writing new things and coming up with writings.

In one of my current classes, the goal was to write a flash story without looking at the screen. If you have a monitor, you turn it off. On a laptop, you change the font to white. I have a laptop. White on white did not work for me.

I tried, oh how I tried. But those darn red squiggles were driving me batty! What’s a girl to DO? The story was going nowhere.

So I tried an old standby: turned on my iTunes and started writing with my eyes closed.

And it was marvelous.

I’m not sure what it is, the symbiotic relationship between the arts. Music, writing, dance, painting and so many others. It’s as if we all have the ability to help spark that next person… no matter what our preferred form of art is.

Till next time

Yesterday, tomorrow’s and today

Yesterday, as I was sitting in my throne crying because of the choice I had to make, I thought to myself… I’ve been to tomorrow. It sucks. Alas, there was no trip to my happy place with good friends, tiny houses and lots ofnlaughter. Instead I slept off a bug that snuck up and attacked me.

But that phrase stuck with me. All day and into this morning.

Who would say that? Would they be in poetry form? Or perhaps… oh my gosh I’m getting an idea for fiction? Can it be true? After so long apart? I know I have another idea, revolving around Face Rock in Oregon….

My imagination is at play, and I am enjoying it. Did it need a rest? Or do I just prefer variety? I think it’s the second one, personally. It’s very hard to peg wynwords down… and I like it that way. A Kaleidescope of crazy imagination that brings me happiness.

Even in the midst of missing out on something I’d been so looking forward to.

Take my lovelies, I’m off to work on a few ideas and sip my sprite.

Bones

I saw the bones

Of the world

Washed up on shore

Stripped bare of the

Taint of hate

Laying side by side

One atop another

Coexisting
No care for male 

Or female

Republican or Democrat

Black or white

Brown or tan.
How long until

We no longer

Need to wait

Until we’re bones?

Bones of the World

 

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I took this photo back in May, and once I saw it I knew… I am in over my head with this one. Because what some would say is a pile of driftwood made me think of the bones of the world, washed up on shore… and then what happens next?

Is it a poem? A short story?  A long story? A meandering?

I’m not entirely sure. But I know my writerly soul wants to write something about the bones of the world, and it was inspired by this photo. (Which was taken at Bullard State Park & Beach in Bandon, Oregon, btw).

Some places and times touch you deeply. Even though you’re bursting with ideas, sometimes the feels get in your way and you’re percolating.

Perk away, brain, perk away.

I’ll be over here in the corner, writing, when you figure it out.

Writing for….

I firmly believe that writers should be paid for their writing. What we do when we play with words has value, and should be treated as such.

Except when the value of what you’re doing exceeds money. I write my letters, and those have enormous value to me. They are a connection to people whom I love. This blog is also a connection, one to the outside world. I’m also working on an experiment, one where my brain will basically be exploded onto the page in a hopefully wonderful way.

A gallery is going to be showing artist sketch books, and it was open to poets as well. All types of artists. You had to pay $20, which helps to cover costs of the show. I fought with myself about it, because as much as I walk a line with “free” writing and paid, I had reservations paying to be published.

But I will not be published with this collection. Technically, I will be shown. I think that is the term LOL.

And the money does cover costs.

As long as it wasn’t a scam.

I hope it wasn’t. Because I am excited about it.It just brings so many things together for me in a beautiful way. I’ve already starting working on it… so if it is a scam, I’ll still do it.

Because it was well worth the $20.00 to have my writing brain focused and creating a cohesive whole again. As I love rivers, lakes and especially the ocean so much, the project is titled Water. I have a few things already written, and more sketched out to write.

IMG_3278

 

 

Shifting Sideways: When work becomes play

I may have mentioned my dirty little secret: I love stationary. I adore it. I like cards, specifically, that have no printing on the inside. I write in them in portrait mode, whether the picture is portrait or landscape. Don’t know why I write in them like that, I just do. At least I don’t just sit there and look at them in all their glory, spread across my bed.. At least not all the time.

I do write letters. Copious amounts of letters.

I had started playing with pictures and words when it came to my stories:

The dragon burped, sending blue sparkles all

And then I had the post with Mel. The one with the visual poetry? Breaking Rythm can be found here if the link doesn’t work: https://wynwords.wordpress.com/2015/07/22/breaking-rhythm-tribe-tuesday/

And my brain has exploded within the past two weeks.

What if… What if…. I could combine two of my favorite things? AWESOME! Even if I only ever make the cards for me, this is something that I love love love!

Here’s the one I’m working on right now:

Poem Stone Multimedia

The title has changed, as has the font and color of the font. Still couldn’t get it quite right, so have sent it off to Leyla, my niece (who also sometimes admins my facebook page for me – Hi Leyla!). I’ve also done one for a friend, and will do another one for her.

This is play. This is fun.

This is joy.

And we should all have something in our lives that brings us joy.

What are you doing in  your writing life, or life in general, that brings you joy?

© 2015 Wynelda Ann Deaver All Rights Reserved