Author: writersamr

  • Things that are still happening post-op

    I haven’t blogged in a while because I haven’t had too much cancer-related to talk about. But I thought I’d write a quick post about some of things that are happening seven months post-hysterectomy and five months post-whipple. (I can’t believe it’s actually been seven months since my hysterectomy already.)

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  • Publication Notice: Bonnie’s Crew

    I have two pieces out in the April issue of Bonnie’s crew! The first (page 30) is a creative non-fiction piece called The News, which I have been trying to place for possibly a couple of years now. It’s about trying to fit the anxiety of going for scans in with everyday life, and how easily that anxiety can be triggered.

    The poem is called Grammar Error (page 37) and it’s a real short one, written after my hsyterectomy.

    You can read them both here:

    https://bonnieandcrew.wordpress.com/2019/04/09/bonnies-crew-2-april-2019/

    Hope you like them!

  • Publication Notice – “Twitch”

    My poem Twitch is out today in Thimble Literary Magazine! I wrote it a little after my hysterectomy in October. You can read it here, along with some other great poems (I particularly like “Cancer Lyric V”): 

    https://www.thimblelitmag.com/2019/03/16/twitch/

  • Post-checkup Check-in – Diagnosis: Happy

    Hello! Life is really nice right now. I’ve started back at work part-time and I’m enjoying it. The dress code changed so we can wear casual clothes. I’m looking forward to a couple of weekend trips away with my boyfriend. I’m thinking about doing a PhD. I was anxious last week because I had a phone call on Tuesday asking me to go in for my annual flexi sig on Friday and that was like, no time at all to get used to the idea. But I went and they said my internal pouch is healthy. There’s nothing like that kind of relief.

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  • The Creative Truth is Closing

    creativetruthjournal:

    It is with sadness that we are announcing the closure of The Creative Truth literary magazine. Due to a lack of submissions (and also a lack of relevant submissions that were in fact nonfiction prose), we are now closed for submissions permanently.

    The magazines will still be available to buy on Lulu.com. Our parent magazine, Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine, is still open and going strong, so head there if you enjoy reading or writing poetry and short fiction.

    Thank you for your support during the three years or so that we have been running. We wish all of our contributors continued success, and our readers continued enjoyment of all the wonderful prose the literary world has to offer.

  • School Photo

    Round glasses, pink with colourful splotches. Mustard tie, grey cardigan buttoned up and restricting. Green and pink satchel with yellow clasps that click closed in that satisfying way. First day of school picture on the patio in the garden. Faded hopscotch. Curls tied up in a ponytail. Pleated skirt. Shiny black shoes. Fluttering stomach. Feeling of dread. Long walk to school.

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  • Publication Notice

    My new short non-fiction (ish) piece, Daydreams of Doing, has been published in Potato Soup Journal! One day a few weeks ago, I wanted to try writing some new fiction and epically failed. This is what came out instead.

  • Publication Notice

    I’ve had a poem published in Amaryllis Poetry today! It’s called Seventy-nine and you can read it here.

  • Brightside Moths

    I feel old
    and torn apart
    tired and torn apart
    torn and tired apart

    I tried living
    alongside moths
    brightside moths

    they tell me to
    always look on
    the bright side too

    but the chipper
    clip of their wings
    gets in my face
    they always fly
    towards the face

    I was the patient
    making the anaesthetists
    laugh before we went
    into the operating theatre
    and I still am

    but I have a library full
    of memories now
    and all the books
    have been checked out
    by me

    I open one
    and a brightside moth
    lands on the middle pages

    I slam it shut
    the wings stop flapping
    there is still no peace