Author: Kiki Writes

Rumored to be a writer. Never hip. Land of Lincoln Cleavage Queen three years running.

Maybe a Septet Will Help

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been struggling with a poem lately. I keep adding lines, tweaking words, messing with metaphors. It’s not working and all of the tinkering I’ve been doing hasn’t helped elicit a breakthrough. My ah-ha moment remains elusive.

The funny part about this brick wall I’m banging my head against is that this poem is just for me. I have no current intention to publish it anywhere or submit it to a contest. It’s just something that has seized my brain and it brings me joy to work on it. Yes, even as I struggle, I’m enjoying the challenge of it. I’ll enjoy the finished product even more, even if my eyes are the only ones that read it.

You may be asking why I’d put so much effort into something that I have no intention (as of now) of getting published. Why would I spend so much time on something that I’m not going to cash in on?

Well, I’ll tell ya, Mert. I played that game of only working on projects for the purpose of gain. Only writing stories and poems that I could submit to contests or zines or anthologies or self-publish or put on Patreon. There is nothing wrong with wanting to get paid for my work. I like to get paid for my writing. I’d like to get paid more for my words, if I’m going to be honest.

But.

I think a big part of the creative wasteland and writer’s malaise I experienced for several years was because the end goal was purely to get paid. How can I profit off of this pile of syllables? There were a lot of other contributing factors in my life at the time, but that was a pretty large vibe killer. What helped to bring me out of that funk? Writing something that was just for me, something that seized my brain and wouldn’t let go, and the whole point of me writing it was just to write it. That’s it. No goal beyond getting it on the page.

And lo, I felt the chains I’d wrapped myself in fall away and the joy returned.

Now I’m working on three fiction projects, two of which are for myself, with no thoughts beyond just finishing them. The third is for a contest, and it’s the first short story I’ve written specifically for a contest in a long time.

In the past few months, I’ve found a real joy in writing poetry. I’ve always liked doing it (Bad Poetry April is my testament), but this new emotional high has made me want to experiment and invest in the craft of it. I default to free verse when I write poetry. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a very cromulent form of poetry. But I need to broaden my play palace. So, I wrote seven poems in seven different forms about seven characters from a movie I love. I had a blast doing it, too. I found a couple of new poetry forms that I enjoy working with and the courage to continue experimenting with new ones.

No one is probably going to read any of these poems, but that doesn’t mean they’re pointless or a waste. First of all, I like them and I like to reread them and I may continue to tinker with a few of them until I get them just right. That’s not time wasted. That’s craft. Craft is important. So is the creative process. Sometimes you need to get a little ridiculous -like writing poems about movie characters- as part of the process. Wonderful things can happen when you have that freedom to be silly without any pressure.

As for the poem I’m working on right now, I think the trouble is that I’m once again defaulting to free verse when what this poem might need is more structure.

Maybe a septet really will help.

Read This If–You’re Curious About Dead Employment

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I do believe I’ve mentioned more than once that one of my favorite non-fiction subjects is the dead (corpses, not Grateful). This fascination has led me down some interesting reading avenues, including employment. It turns out that there’s quite a few professions that involve the dead, some you may not know about. Or even want to know about.

Though I’ve been told that I have the temperament to work with the dead, I’m not sure I could do it. However, I can read about those professions all day long and never get bored.

What the Dead Know: Learning About Life as a New York City Death Investigator by Barbara Butcher- True Crime non-fiction with a memoir twist, Barbara Butcher was in the early stages of alcoholism recovery when she lucked into a job at the Medical Examiner’s Office and became the second woman death investigator in New York City. She loved the work and it turned out she was really good at it. It could be grueling, gruesome, morbid, and sometimes dangerous. It’s the kind of work that can only be compartmentalized for so long before that box breaks down.

The author discusses some of her more memorable cases -she’s investigated more than 5,500 death scenes- and populates her stories with the colorful characters she’s worked with. However, she also describes the toll the job took on her and that despite loving the gig, it nearly broke her. It’s an unflinching look at an incredible job.

Personal Effects: What Recovering the Dead Teaches Me About Caring for the Living by Robert A. Jensen- Another book that’s part memoir, this one delves into the world of disaster recovery. Did you ever think about what happens after a major disaster like a tidal wave or airplane crash or building collapse? Someone has to go in there to retrieve the bodies and their possessions. Robert Jensen is the owner of the world’s largest disaster management company. He and his teams do the unthinkable: recover the dead after a mass casualty event. His team has responded to incidents all over the world, including 9/11, the Bali Bombings, the 2004 South Asian Tsunami, and the 2010 Haitian Earthquake, working to give the survivors what they can of the victims.

The book goes into the details of many of these incidents as well as just how a disaster management company works. It’s eye opening to see how much time and work goes into cleaning up after these incidents and how little they can sometimes offer the next of kin. The book also details the toll this kind of work takes on the author’s life and how it’s not a job for just anyone.

All the Living and the Dead by Hayley Campbell- This book covers all of the death-related careers you could think of and a few that you never dreamed of. There are the traditional jobs like funeral directors, embalmers, and grave diggers. Then there are the jobs that you’d rather not think about like executioners and crime scene cleaners. There are jobs that are kind of far out there like in cryogenics. And then there are the gigs that you didn’t even know existed. Did you know people still make death masks?

What I really like about this book is that every job is treated with dignity and respect. The death industry is a difficult one and for a majority of the public, something no one wants to deal with until they absolutely have to. But there are certain people to whom these careers are a calling and they make their living doing what others couldn’t. After all, someone has to do it. Might as well be someone who loves their job.

If you give these books a try, I hope you find a job you like. If not, then I’m sure you’ll find something else in the want ads.

Writing Advice From an Unsuccessful Writer

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One of my younger coworkers has decided to wade into the world of fiction writing and she asked me for some writing advice as she’s never written fiction before. Caught off-guard by the question as I frequently forget that people I know in the meatspace are aware that I’m a writer, what spewed forth from my mouth was a mess of wisdom that probably just confused the hell out of her. But hopefully, she pulled some useful bits from my rambling.

Upon reflection, here are the most important, coherent bits of writing advice from the big mouth of an unsuccessful writer.

  1. Write for yourself. Telling the story that you want to tell, writing the story that you want to read, that’s the best advice I’ve ever heard. Writing can be lonely, frustrating work, but the joy of it is in the creation of something that’s for yourself. There’s also less disappointment when you find out that you’re the only one who wants to read it.
  2. There’s no right way to write. Word counts, timers, pantsing, outling, revising as you go, revising when the draft is done. The only real requirement is that your butt is in the seat writing the words on a reliable basis. Discipline is the key no matter which way you find is best for you.
  3. Not writing is part of writing. Let your ideas marinate, develop, fester, etc. Living with the characters and scenarios and stories in your head, sometimes for years, is part of writing. Yes, eventually what’s in your head has to make it to the page, but until they’re ready to be birthed, letting them cook is still writing.
  4. Writing is rewriting. No first draft is perfect and the worst shit can always be made better with some effort. I take great comfort in that. You don’t have to be perfect. Not on the first draft. Not even on the fifth. Enjoy the revisions.
  5. Write for the joy of it. Sometimes writing is a slog. Trying to get published (if you want to do that) can be soul crushing. Rejection is going to be frequent. Improving your craft is a lot of dedication and work and sometimes it feels like you’re not getting any better. It’s easy to forget the joy that made you want to put pen to paper in the first place. But it’s there every time you get the spark of a new idea or figure out a plot problem or name a new character or get lost in the act of wordsmithing or finally -finally!- finishing that story. If you’re going to write, write for the joy of it. You’ll never want to quit.

My coworker has such a fun idea for a story and I really hope that my blathering didn’t turn her off from pursuing it. I hope that out of that large, tossed word salad I fed her, she found some morsels that nourished her enthusiasm to put this idea down on the page.

I realize it might be ridiculous for an unsuccessful writer to be giving writing advice, but look at it this way…

Just because I’m no good doesn’t mean the advice is bad.

Poem–“Hips”

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

We’re in the home stretch of National Poetry Month. You’re almost there, kids. And since you’re already struggling, let’s do a poem that’s sure to make you really uncomfortable.

I admit it. I like to watch you squirm.

***

Hips

There’s something about her hips.
The way they’re spread wide
and far, like the rumor of
good things to come.
The way the curve of them
begs for hands to grip
just at the top, squeeze,
hold on for the ride of your
Life.

Poem–“Where Do You Get Your Ideas From?”

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We’re half-way through National Poetry Month. Are you feeling the burn? Don’t worry. You’re doing great. And this poem is a fun one. It answers a question writers get all the time.

I don’t think you’ll like my answer, though.

***

Where Do You Get Your Ideas From?

I want to say my mind is a prism,
that it fractures the light of reality
into a rainbow, creates a palette
I paint with to please the masses.

In actuality, my mind is a kitchen sink drain
that I clean out now and then
and save the best bits of gunk
to make a meal no one eats.

Poem–“Let’s Eat”

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

National Poetry Month continues, and so does the onslaught of my bad poetry. Let’s have some fun with a poem that would have folks loudly declaring that the shoe doesn’t fit if they read it.

Good thing nobody’s read it.

***

Let’s Eat

Men are vegetarian dogs.
They like to chew on skinny things-
matchsticks, toothpicks,
meatless bones
picked clean by high standards.
A man is finicky about his meal.

Women, though, women like to dine,
feast, indulge in the banquet
laid before them, the tastes,
the textures, the variety, the flavors
washing over their tongues, savoring.
A woman is not a picky eater.

Poem–“This Is a Bad Poem”

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

It’s National Poetry Month, my yearly excuse to inflict my terrible poetry on your delicate sensibilities, a weekly barrage of cringe-worthy attempts at art.

I hope you like abuse.

***

This Is a Bad Poem

This is a bad poem.
First and foremost it doesn’t rhyme,
except by accident one time.
Secondly, it doesn’t use enough devices.
It lacks metaphors like a drought lacks rain.
It has all the symbolism of an anvil
dropped from a great height
onto a cartoon character
who never saw it coming
despite the music.
Lastly, it took me only ten minutes to write it
and five minutes to edit it.
Fifteen minutes too many because
this is a bad poem.

Read This If–You Wanna Like Poetry

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

National Poetry Month is coming up and I want you to be prepared by reading some good poetry before I inflict my bad poetry on you.

Yes, I know. You don’t really like poetry. Well, this isn’t English class and we’re not picking apart sonnets to understand iambic pentameter and symbolism. We’re reading for our own enjoyment and our own experience. Let the poems speak to you on whatever level they find you one. You’ll be surprised how much you can get from them there.

The Breakbeat Poets: New American Poetry in the Age of Hip-Hop, edited by Kevin Coval, Quraysh Ali Lansana, and Nate Marshall- This is the first of The Breakbeat Poets anthologies which include Black Girl Magic, Halal If You Hear Me, and LatiNext. I will one day acquire them all. Until then, let’s talk about this one. It features 78 poets born between 1961 and 1999 writing about the experience of existence in the moment.

If the thought of poetry only conjures up memories of dead white folks with dusty rhyme schemes about love and nature, this is going to be refreshing, as these poets redefine what poetry means. I particularly like the visual aspect of Douglas Kearney’s poetry, for example. But every poet brings something special to the page, and the hip-hop flavor is undeniable. It’s so good.

Black Queer Hoe by Britteney Black Rose Kapri- Isn’t that title to die for? Tackling questions of identity, sexuality, and power, these poems pull no punches in their exploration and reclamation. The slim volume of poetry is packed with honesty, emotion, and humor. Some of it’s downright raw, but it’s all unapologetic, and I love that. It doesn’t flinch.

“Queer enough” hits me where I live. “reasons imma Hoe” and “before they can use it against you” speak to me on a soul level. The poems are short, but pack one hell of a punch. And the tweets are a sweet bonus. It’s a fab read.

Citizen Illegal by José Olivarez- Another slim volume, it packs within its pages and poems reflections on race, ethnicity, immigrants, and racism. Latinx lives and Chicago scenes come alive. It’s honest and funny and emotional.

The title poem “(Citizen)(Illegal)” sets the perfect tone. “You Get Fat When You’re In Love” sings to me. And I love “Mexican Heaven”. Yes, all of them. You’ll have to read the book to know what I’m talking about. And you should definitely read the book.

It’s worth noting that Britteney Black Rose Kapri and José Olivarez are both contributors to The Breakbeat Poets: New American Poetry in the Age of Hip-Hop. It’s also worth noting that all three of these poetry books are available at Haymarket Books.

If you ever wanna learn to like poetry, start with one of these. If they don’t make you like it, well, go back to Shel Silverstein and never stop looking for that poetry joy.

I Am an Intimidation Tactic

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I am the library witch.

I don’t know know when it happened, but sometime in the last almost five years of employment I became the library clerk to be feared.

People whisper not to cross me or I’ll hex them. I’m talked about like a punishment, a threat. “This is Christin. She’s our cudgel.” I am the threat of blunt force trauma in snazzy pants and funky tights and cute dresses. We joke about the ghosts of librarians past, but I’m the one that actually haunts the library. I skulk through the stacks, looking for children to scare and patrons to frighten. Coworkers to bully.

I am more feared than an ’80s slasher villain no matter their body count and how many times they come back from the dead.

I am a curse.

And I have no idea what to make of it. Because I’ve been this way for a long time. I can’t say forever because I wasn’t like this when I was a kid. I was shy and sensitive and incredibly weird. I admit that I’ve always been an angry little thing and prone to fighting and that did give me a little bit of a reputation. Turned out to stick with me even though the only person I fought in high school was my sister, who also had a bit of a reputation as someone not to cross. One of our friends whom we’d known since childhood once said that everyone wanted to be our friend because nobody wanted to be on our bad side.

Okay, maybe I have always been this way. It just had to mature along with me, refine itself into this raven that sits on my shoulder, alerting everyone to my potential.

I seem to haunt every place I go. If there’s a group dynamic, I unintentionally establish myself as the imminent danger.

I think it’s in part because I do not suffer fools. I come from a family of non-fool sufferers, which was rough when I was young and a fool because I was not suffered. Now I’m the one who is not doing any suffering. I do not have time for ignorant nonsense. Has customer service exacerbated this aspect of my personality? Absolutely. There’s a prevalence of fools in this line of work and I will not suffer a single one. That makes an impression. Even when I’m not trying to give that impression, it’s so infused in my aura that I still make that impression. More than once I’ve been told that when people first meet me they’re intimidated. While I appreciate that power, it’s not the default the vibe I’m going for.

Most people want to be liked. Life is easier when you’re liked. I don’t think about being liked. I tend to assume that I’m not liked. I’m tolerated. It’s better to be on my good side than my bad. “Don’t make Christin angry. You wouldn’t like her when she’s angry.” And you wouldn’t. I’m less than fun when I’m angry at you (I am hilarious, though, if I’m ranting about something that has nothing to do with you). So, when I find out that people actually like me, it confuses me. Surely, you jest. Did you miss the memo? The vibes? The aura? The warnings?

Or did you figure that befriending the monster would keep you safe? And once you did, you realized that she really isn’t that bad.

As long as you stay on my good side.