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Story Notes – Dear Agnes

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My story ‘Dear Agnes’ was published today in Grim Corps.  It’s a wonderful web magazine with some fantastic stories and amazing art.

To read my full story, you can head over to the Grim Corps website and download the magazine in Kindle, E-Pub or .PDF format.

Although a story can certainly stand on it’s own, I’ve included a little ‘about the story’ section below because from a writer’s perspective I personally like to know where a story comes from.

Spoiler Alert:  Although there are no specifics below, there are thematic spoilers.  So if you want to read the story with fresh eyes save the ‘about’ section for after.

About Dear Agnes

Looking back on my life I realize I’ve done a lot.  Now, as a writer I have the opportunity to tell those crazy, sometimes dangerous stories of my life.  I have in the past told told many of my stories as they happened, in a memoir fashion, but I prefer to mix them into fiction because it gives me the opportunity to explore my own stories from a different perspective.

In Dear Agnes I chose to write about my journey to Egypt and some of the experiences I had there.  I wanted to write from the perspective of a woman traveling alone in the 20’s to give it a Lovecraft feel and to allow myself to imagine what it might be like to be myself (in a way) in a different time.  I found it exciting and intriguing to see some of my own experiences through Rosemary’s eyes.

I also wanted to write about the relationship between two sisters, in retrospect perhaps to illustrate the slow degradation of my relationship with my brother when I went through serious and psyche altering changes of my own.

I like writing about the line between magic and madness and specifically leaving the bits in between open to interpretation because life is so often left open to interpretation.  I think that’s the thing I truly love about magic realism.  We are always (and will perhaps always be) searching for answers to the mysteries of life, but the things that matter most are often not the mysteries themselves, but the effects they have on our lives and our relationships.

Thanks for reading and feel free to leave critiques in the comments, I’m always open to suggestion and speculation!

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How I got into writing

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This is the first post for www.writesofluid.com’s blog writing challenge.  One blog post a day for all of June!  Check it out at the website or on twitter: @sofluid or #wpad!

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When I was younger I used to write a lot.  Journals mostly, whining about boys (and later girls too), unrequited love, rituals (during my witchy phase) and other teenage stuff that I was sure was insanely important.  I’ve looked back over old journals before, but I find the process of ploughing through years of bad poetry kind of painful.

Next I got into writing plays.  I still have one sitting around about a girl who discovered she was gay and made out with her best friend.  Ah the ponderings of a seventh grade bi-girl.  Then there were stories.  I even wrote a story about a girl on a journey to enlightenment for philosophy class in high school and scored myself an A+ (I went to an alternative school of course).

Then it was world travels.  Long nights were spent scribbling in notebooks on buses, traveling through the desert in Egypt or up and down crazy mountains in Peru, in dirty old hotel rooms or tucked away in sleeping bags on the beach watching the stunning Italian sunset and hoping I wouldn’t wake up after high tide.

I wrote a lot.  But still, through all of that, I didn’t call myself a writer.

I wrote little articles about my adventures with my friends, replacing us with anthropomorphized animals and calling it: The Starry Web Press.  I wrote stories and poems as gifts.  I sent out poems as solstice greetings to friends and family.  Still, I refused to call myself a writer.

No no, I was a traveler, a server, a bartender, a go-go dancer, a shaman, a tarot card reader, an event planner, a video producer, but never…NEVER a writer.

The real turning point came maybe a year ago, after I finished my first novel.  A honking, slow moving, boring laborious thing (150,000 words).  I finished it, looked at Ben and said:

“I think I’m a writer.”

Since then I’ve been on fire, I’ve written multiple short stories, another novel, made a giant list of agents, magazines and contests to submit my work to, started this blog, gathered almost 250 followers on twitter, joined two writing groups (and quit one), and I’ve even been hired to write professionally from video scripts to event proposals to websites.

So although it took me 29 years to admit it, I’m a writer dammit, and just like everything else I’ve been before, I’ve thrown myself into it, heart and soul.

Now it’s your turn…how did you get into writing?