Writing What You Know

Originally posted on The Sarcastic Muse:

Writing What  You KnowWe all know the sage old advice of “writing what you  know.” It isn’t so much that we should limit our writing to our daily lives, but that we should use our highs and lows in our writing along with the physical sensations and emotions they produced.

To give our characters depth of emotion and experience, we need to lend them ours.

Normally a writer’s mind records the big stuff even as we go through it. It’s how we’re built. It’s much harder to remember the rest of our range of experiences but they also give life and flavor to our characters.

A writer’s journal is a good way to record events for future use–things like birth, death, achievement, loss, promotion–the big things. But also draw on other experiences such as childhood humiliation, betrayal, enthusiasm and excitement. Record your experiences of break ups, friends you miss, narrow escapes and if-only moments…

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Root scarecrow and Tree of Dreams by Patryk Sadowski 4


Originally posted on Routine Dreamer:

As my day finalises and I lay my weary head to rest,

I dream and fantasise of all the things I want before my death.

I break my back for money and I live a life I wish not,

Money’s got me in a muddle; I’m tied between two knots.

I fight my thoughts and battle with my inner demons,

Truth is I’m feeding a thought thinking about leaving as I’m slowly breathing.

Some days, I day dream even though I live life inside a nightmare,

What’s life’s meaning if I wish not and feel as if I don’t care?

My feelings are contorted and stretched,

But I have life, so I guess I’m blessed.

It’s a situation we’ve all dealt with; old and young,

Let’s live life without money, my rich is based on having fun.

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Kiev, Democracy

MMXIV, by Charlie Sellings

Minor distinctions between right and left,

A thoughtless democracy: an answerless test.

The power to influence, ability to control,

Barely significant, if majorities fall.

Freedom defined by how much it costs.

Future defined by how much is lost.

Money is opportunity, not happiness or faith.

Economical morality, leading humanity astray.


Minor distinctions between right and wrong.

Ethical apathy, the end has begun.

Empty questions inspire empty replies.

A political template: invisible lies.

Equality belongs to those who believe.

Captured ambitions, disguised within grief.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

And here comes a chopper to chop off your head.

Dylan Thomas

Shedloads of Work – 100 Years of Dylan Thomas

The Off the Shelf Festival of Words is nearing it’s end in Sheffied, and the Shedloads of Work website was launched yesterday to celebrate 100 years of famous poet, Dylan Thomas. The website features pieces by several writers, including myself, who wrote about their workspaces or the landscape around them to celebrate Thomas’s work, which had a strong sense of place. You can visit the site and read my poem, I Locked Myself Away, and more, at Shedloads of Work. For more on Off the Shelf visit Off the Shelf Festival of Words.

Letter by A Flower by 500pixel

“To All My Facebook Friends” (2)

Originally posted on Before I Became a Great Writer:

We could unplug ourselves
From Facebook
And start writing
In journals.
We could write
Each other letters
And make frequent trips
To the post office.
It will take too much of our time,
Of course, but our correspondence
Will be longer
And the pleasure of conversing
Will be drawn out.
Anyway, a conversation
Via social media
Mediated by computer monitors
And profile photos
Isn’t really much of a
Conversation, is it?
Anyway, I want to see your
Handwriting, feel the strokes
Of your pen with my fingers,
And smell the ink and paper.
You don’t have to write and sound
Like Jane Austen, although that would
Be great, as well.
You can write like a cardiologist,
I wouldn’t mind.
There are nuances in our handwriting,
You know.
We could lie on roof tops
And gaze at the distant galaxies
And talk about our dreams.
We could…

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Ink Splatter 08 by Loadus

Moloko – Sing it Back (Boris Musical Mix)

After writing for inkposts, Richard May tells us what he listens to:

“Sing it Back is a track I’ve been listening to ever since I was kid, and I’ve never gotten tired of it. The song has a lasting longevity that’s hard to find in dance music today, and on top of that it’s a fun track that’s always a joy to listen to.”

Fashion by Smilenestia

A Guide for Buying What You Wear, by Richard May

Firstly, there are no limitations,

so don’t restrict your identity to trends,

Secondly, “The fit is half the item.”

Read that again one more time.

Thirdly, form follows function,

like beauty follows care.

Function reasonably -

get what you can afford -

and things will form themselves.

Lastly, be careful with your decisions:

Is it essential?

Will it fit with what you already have?

Will you create something new?

Or will you mesh your identities together?


These lines are only guide,

in an art where poor decisions are made each day,

but follow these rules and there will be no mistakes to make.


Short Bio: Richard May is currently studying fashion and has been known to spend up to a month on deciding whether or not to buy a particular piece of clothing. 

Ink Splatter 04 by Loadus


Originally posted on the inflectionist:


By Samantha Lyon: Literature Editorquill


From an early age, people are inundated with ideas of what they should or should not be reading. There appears to be a kind of social hierarchy in the world of books, the structure of which is almost instinctive. Most understand, for example, that it is more socially appropriate and respectable to read Henry James than R. L. Stine. You would receive more status points for even pretending to read Crime and Punishment than you would for completing The Da Vinci Code. This is an accepted universal truth, much like how we know that a beachside wedding may be classy, but wearing a white bikini at the ceremony certainly is not. It is, however, important for us to question why we think the way we do. Maybe there is nothing wrong with a bikini, and maybe Jodi Picoult is this century’s Jane Austen

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Ink Splatter 11 by Loadus


We didn’t think he’d turn up today despite our invitation, so we started our drinks without him and began to share what we had been doing during the years we hadn’t seen each other. Eventually, we began to talk about the memories we had of him:

We remembered when we were kids and we were at his house in his room. His mum entered to check on what we were doing. She said it stank. ‘No it doesn’t mum’ he said. ‘Your nose is just too close to your mouth.’

He fancied a girl at school, Maria. Cheeky Grin by 3wylHe would never admit it but we all knew. When she started holding hands with another kid, Fabian, he didn’t appear fussed and continued to laugh at anything and everything like usual. At the end of one of our lessons, he told her, as we walked out, that ‘Fabian’s good practice. Come back to me when you’ve finished training.’

Once, we were doing lines in detention. He asked our teacher, Mrs. Swan, for help. We heard him say he wanted extra lessons with her. She smiled and nodded. He smiled back and whispered: ‘Do I have to use a condom?’

After a night out we had, a group of guys we didn’t get along with ganged up on us. We were outnumbered. While they were kicking us, over all the shouting, we heard him yell: ‘Couldn’t you clean your trainers first?’

By the time we were in our twenties he had landed a decent job. Soon after, he lost it, and we asked him why. ‘I was having a bad morning’, he said, ‘and my supervisor asked me why I was late. I told him his wife might know the answer.’

When we asked him to come to our reunion, he told us he’d gotten to where he wanted to be in life and had no reason to ‘catch up in nostalgia.’

He turned up anyway, and the first thing he said was ‘God . . . you’re all still as ugly as I remember.’

Photo by 3wyl: 3wyl.deviantart.com 

Ink Splatter 04 by Loadus

ME, by Ellen Santana

The lights are panning the stage and I’m hidden by the darkness. They’re all waiting for me. My heart beat is steady. That’ll change when I walk to the front of the stage and show Silhouette Of Guitarist On Stage by Alexander Sashmyself, but it’s what they want: me; the person they jump up and down for, who they watch in awe wanting to be. Me: famous, fabulous and funny; cool, calm and collected; hyper, happy and humble. I could go on but I’ve got a show to perform.

They cheer when I come forward and the lights focus on me. They love me . . . the whole fucking world loves me.

Short bio: Ellen Santana works as an event organiser and likes to write about what she sees.

Ink Splatter 11 by Loadus

1 Minute, by Victoria Lee

00.00: we’re struggling to take our clothes off

00.10: our arms are around each other

00.20: we should use protection

00.30: fuck it, we’ll risk it

00.40: bliss . . .

00.50: he’s tensing

01.00: he’s finished. What the fuck?


Short Bio: Victoria Lee is obsessed with fitness and likes to write poems about anything she can. To hear what she listens to click here.

Ink Splatter 06 by Loadus


Originally posted on the inflectionist:


By Jani Anandh: Columnist


Xenophobia is described as the ‘intense or irrational dislike or fear of people from other countries’ in the Oxford Dictionaries, whereas the Merriam Webster sees it as the ‘fear and hatred of strangers or foreigners or of anything that is strange or foreign’.

EYES2‘Anything that is strange or foreign’….While these definitions appear to have a focus on the race value of the term, xenophobia is, in essence, the fear of the unknown and the alien. It is, in other words, the fear of the ‘other’.

One literary genre that has benefitted from this particular concept of fear – more than any other perhaps – is the genre of horror. With its origin in Gothic literature, this particular kind of writing thrives and survives on this understanding of terror.

The abnormal and the freakish: the ‘other’ as it were, is oftentimes externalised and embodied in this…

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