Hello! I’ve had a short story published in an online zine today. Well, it’s sort of a very short fiction thing based on real life but sort of fictional. It’s metaphorical, which I love, and based on my health experiences and feelings around that. You can find it in issue 12 of Degenerate Literature. Hope you like it, and if it resonates with anyone please let me know – it’s awesome to connect with people who have had similar feelings and experiences!
Tag: amwriting (Page 5 of 6)
I’m so pleased to say that this blog has been named one of the top ten cancer blogs of 2016!
The lovely people over at IHadCancer.com listed their ten top cancer blogs of last year, and out of hundreds of submissions, mine was one of the top ten!
So, I can now say I’m officially an award-winning blogger, right?! I’m even gonna get a badge to put on my blog and everything.
I mean, when I submitted my blog for consideration I didn’t even know it was for an award type thing, I just thought they were putting a list of resources together. And I thought my blog would be too poem-y and not quite as bloggy as others to merit consideration. So this is really cool.
And best of all, it’s really inspired me and motivated me to keep writing, and blogging, and posting my poetry. I feel appreciated and like what I do matters, and that is the best start to the new year I could have gotten. So a huge thank you to the guys and girls at IHC – it might sound silly but this really means a lot. You’ll all be hearing a lot more from me in 2017. This is my year.
I can see I’m in great company, and it’s really cool to be connecting to other cancer bloggers on Twitter, too. You can see the list of all the top ten blogs and special mentions on the IHadCancer.com website.
it’s not that far to go
it lurks just below the surface
like the loch ness monster.
everyone else thinks it’s fictional,
a figment of my imagination,
because they’ve never seen it.
but I have, I’ve felt the waves rush
to the river bank as it moved,
I’ve reached out and touched it
oily skin, its skin much thicker
than mine. I’ve negotiated its humps
as it invited me aboard its back, I’ve
felt the powerful swish of its tail,
I’ve held on for dear life as it moved –
because it felt like it was all I had,
and it understood. it was no mirage
to me, and it still lurks there now.
I know I can revisit it at any time,
sometimes unwillingly. sometimes
I go there just so it doesn’t sneak up
on me. Nessie is always there.
I know there is a starry sky up there
somewhere, but for now I’d rather
cling onto Nessie. it’s a comfortable
fear down here, and she knows me
best, now that she’s shaped me,
manipulated me, turned me into a
mirror of herself, a shadow of me.
the water is hypnotising. it would
be so easy to dip a toe in, even though
it’s cold, even though it hurts, even
though it’s the darkest place I’ve
ever seen. the temptation is great
for no logical reason other than to
feel so deeply.
the water runs so deep
and Nessie is the way in.
she is
easily accessible fear
trepidation on tap
anger on demand
there is
a pool of trauma
hidden in this lake
where Nessie lives.
Nessie says ‘tumour markers’
and I panic, stop functioning,
struggle to catch my breath,
just sit and glaze over like these
words are mine, thrust upon me –
and why don’t they belong to
others around me too? – but
they don’t, they’re just mine
and I have to handle it. so I
take a deep breath, grasp onto
it. the consultant says he’s
sending me for a tumour marker
blood test and I say okay as if it’s
fine, and it sort of is, because
I’m strong enough. I could carry
Nessie herself – instead of bobbing
in the water as she takes me
wherever she wants me to go
because she is in control – so
yes, I could carry her weight
but I wish I didn’t have to.
Every time I listen to Professor Green’s music or watch one of his interviews, I feel so inspired to write something, to be brutally honest, to open up a blank Word document and spill my guts and share it with the world. Pro inspires me to write more than any author does, because he inspires me to be honest and open and to be myself, unapologetically. And for me that’s the most important part of writing, that I say something that’s important to me, and that writing it down makes me feel good, even empowered. He gives me self-confidence in that way. He makes me feel like if I have fingers and a pen or a keyboard, then I can do anything.
I had a short story published in Scarlet Leaf Review today! It’s called Mirrors and I’m really pleased because it’s the first short story I’ve ever had published, as opposed to poetry and memoirs. Here it is, if you’re looking for a quick read – hope you enjoy!
http://www.scarletleafreview.com/shortstoriesoct2016/category/sam-rose
Jim Harrington over at “Six Questions For…” has kindly posted an interview with me on his blog. It’s an interview about editing Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine and The Creative Truth, including how the magazines got started and what I look for in submissions.
Here it is:
http://sixquestionsfor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/six-questions-for-sam-samantha-rose.html
Enjoy! 🙂
Maybe I was wrong
Maybe I am the person
I wanted to be.
I don’t mind being wrong.
I just found out that one of my short stories is being published in an online magazine in October!
This is awesome because I’m pretty proud of the story and have submitted it to a few places but it got rejected. Also it’s the first short story I’ve had published – usually I’m submitting poetry or the occasional memoir piece. So I’m really pleased!
The story is called ‘Mirrors’ and it’s going to be published in Scarlet Leaf Review. I’ve been feeling a bit run down today as well so this is a lovely bit of news to brighten up my day!
The stormy bank holiday when
plans fell through so it was
Scrabble and a fry up, lazy Saturday
afternoon with my legs outstretched
and your half of the sofa reclined, your
heartbeat reverberating through the
backs of my knees as you snored and I
watched easy tv
‘easy, easy’
they say,
when nothing is easy
and my eye welcomes
the comfort of my
fingertip
and says this is a
pressing matter
and I’ve buried myself in bricks
for days
hard thoughts
heavy thoughts
thoughts that leave no room for
anything else at all
and I sink
and I sink
and my thoughts are nothing but
this
and the day comes that
I’ve been waiting for
and I’m going alone
like I wanted
but didn’t want
and it happens
and it’s okay
probably
maybe
and it’s over
and just like that
the bricks are gone
I’m still on my own
but comfortably so
and I can stand
and there is light
air all around
no dusk or dawn
just like a switch
midnight to midday sun
and everything feels fine –
until next time.
