Week 4: Emotion

    K Ghislaine

I have literally just spend the last hour going through old photos that I took of myself on various writing adventures, in an effort to find myself and my voice. The prompt from Alice Walker, spoke about writing from a place of hate, and how paralyzing it can be. And I felt that paralysis, as I scrolled image after image. The memories of me trying, so hard to reconcile everything that I had been through, while at the same time, sugar coating it all, because I simply wasn’t ready to face the hard reality that I was alone. And more so, that I had been going it alone, for a very, long time.

The writing prompt side of this week, talks about writing from anger, and then revisiting the piece with a more moderate, or middle ground approach. And well, I want to tell you a story, about me doing just that, but over years and years.

As many of you know, I have written a book, a memoir of that open relationship that got me blogging. When I first started the book, I was in love, or what I would later learn was lust. And it was in that state of being I first endeavoured to write a book of fiction. It was a pen and paper novel, that I figured would allow me to better discuss everything that I had questioned but in the “clever” guise of a narrative so I could never be culpable to my relationship. It was… terrible. But an admirable effort on my part.

I did some soul searching and realized that I needed to revise it to a memoir, and keep it in a similar style to my blog so as not to alienate my incredible supportive readers. That book began as a love story, without an ending. It was simply a continuation of the blog with no rising action, no intrigue, just deeper dives into what transpired. My book was doomed, until that fateful day that I realized there was absolutely zero love in my home.

That was the day, that I picked up my book, and started with fresh eyes, and from the beginning. In those few weeks, and then months, I wrote with a fever pitch, and I wrote with anger. Some might even say, hate. But not hate at him. It was hate at myself. I would write words that poured out of me, and I know I cried a lot, but I don’t actually remember when or where. I just wrote, probably 50’000 words of pure rage, and dislike for who I had become as a result of losing myself to him, and his identity. It was awful. And again, so was the book. Because I blamed myself for everything that went wrong, it was horrible introspective that was so one-sided, it added to my depression to even think about. So I didn’t, I just wrote.

This prompt asked about writing with hate, and I think I have learned a lot from writing nearly an entire relationship worth of words, blinded by a rage I couldn’t control. I still don’t quite have the words to describe what a lonely period of time that was. The realization that I was not the person I wanted to be. A lifetime of experiences and adventures, with nothing redeeming to show for it, besides the chapters of a book, filled with self loathing and blame. That was a lesson I learned from. While cathartic, looking back of course, I no longer write when I feel that bubbling rage. I no longer will put words down on a page, when I cannot think straight. I know it those moments, I don’t want to capture that essence. It’s not sincere, it is not honest, and it is not worth capturing.

Writing with emotion is what I do best. Real, raw, and vulnerable. But… with an openness and a realization that there are always more sides to a story than just mine. That is the lesson I took away from writing in a period of hatred. Emotion is good. Extremes are bad! At the end of the day, I want to be remembered for being authentic rather than a drama queen who used her emotion to sensationalize her story. We can save that for the harlequin romance adaptation! Haha.

I hope you are enjoying this writing prompt edition of my blog, and I thank you all for reading!!! This post does not have any behind the scenes photos (no one wants to see me ugly cry!) on Patreon, but there is still some great content, and I am working on switching all my pay-walled medium articles to friends and family ones so there is added incentive to joining. My aim is to have this done for all tier levels, so please be patient with me as I make the changes.

Week 3: Truth

    K Ghislaine

This weeks prompt is from the incomparable Margaret Atwood, and as I should have expected her note was direct and to the point “tell the Truth”. And whether via luck or happenstance this is exactly what I have been struggling with as of late, but not within my writing. No, as I mentioned last week, I really enjoy the process of digging deeper, and as I am discovering with my podcast, fact checking and research are things I really enjoy. There is an uncomplicated, more direction focused nuance to ensuring what I write is accurate. A little mental break if you will, to the emotional ties with which I write words down on a page. And these are all the things that I wanted to brag about really enjoying as I read the task that was presented to me, truth.

However, as I stood in the shower, letting the hot water pour over me, with the almost trance like effect of the rushing water that has elicited so many ideas over the years, I suddenly realized that while my mind and creativity are focused in truth, my body is not. In fact over the past year and a bit, my body has outright lied to me, time and time again. And it is becoming unbearably painful, because on more than one occasion my body has convinced every fibre of my being that we have conceived only to dash my hopes days later.

And well, being a person who adores research and fact checking, I can tell you with the utmost certainty that information available to those struggling to get pregnant absolutely sucks. There is almost no way to tell fact from fiction because everything is subjective. My body lies, my research yields false hope, and an abundance of information that simply states… wait. All you can do is wait! Now here is where it starts to get twisted.

In this new age of internet searching with cookies, and all manor of targeted advertising, something sinister lurks beneath my desperation, the profiteers. Oh yes, the internet knows what you are up to, and let me tell you that there are more than just a handful of so called experts, ready and willing to take your money in exchange for an almost guaranteed plan to help you cleanse your body so you can get pregnant. With a modest monetary exchange, you can reverse the age of your eggs with diet and exercise alone! There is no actual peer reviewed study to back this magic remedy up. Nor any way that you can ensure these things are safe, healthy, effective, or recommended by an actual Dr. But hey, in the wee hours of the night, when you are once again devastated that your body has once again let you down, you might say, “I’ll try anything”. And then dear friends, they’ve got you, and your money.

I wish there was a way to report these charlatans, who give false hope in exchange for your hard earned money, but as of yet, I do not know of a place. It feels criminal that in my hour of vulnerability, and hormonal upheaval, I cannot find a thing that I can try that is endorsed by anyone reasonable or rational. This writing prompt really wanted me to look at a past piece of writing and fact check it, remove bias, and take a long hard look at the accuracy of my words. And well, I want to write something verifiable in regards to increasing my chances of getting pregnant, and quite frankly, as this point in time, I could not ensure universal accuracy. The state of women’s healthcare and research is deplorable. I have hit a wall, and I cannot fact check myself out of it, no matter how hard I have been trying. And well, admitting that I have failed, just… sucks.

Well, until the next writing prompt. Hopefully it will be a tad more uplifting. Thank you as always to the amazing folks who comment, share, and subscribe to my Patreon. I couldn’t do this without your support.

Week 2: Digging Deeper

    K Ghislaine

Fantasy VS Reality

Look at me go… 2 weeks in a row blogging with writing prompts! When does this become a habit that I no longer have to think about? Hmm… that is a question for the ages. If you missed week one, you can click here, and if you want to journal with some writing prompts of your own from some incredible women writers: the book I’m using is the image. Without further ado, let me puzzle out the idea of fantasy vs reality in my own writing.

When I first started reading Ursula K Le Guin speak to imagination and fantasy, I was both captivated by her incredible use of imagery to speak to fiction, and also nervous that in the very second week, I would be unable to complete this task. My written word has primarily existed in the world of non-fiction, memoir, and real life experiences, shared for all, or I suppose overshared is more apt. Fiction is not a medium I work with, and the idea of utilizing disparate concepts is pretty much the complete opposite of where I want to be.

The thing is, when working with a medium that includes other people, the idea of libel is one that often weighs heavily on my mind. As much as I try to relate my experiences and perspectives alone, none of my adventures would exist without others in it. So to create a narrative that is anything less than authentic, colourful or imaginative could open me up to a whole host of things I am not prepared for. So to understand the connection in my own work, is to acknowledge that for the most part, I try to bring as much truth, and sincerity as I can to my words. My playfulness is with puns, little inside jokes that make me smile, and so many euphemisms.

I will say though, when I have played with the idea of merging fantasy and reality, erotica is almost exclusively the result. Am I an amazing writer in that medium? No. Does it take a lot out of me? Yes, yes it does. But, is it fun from time to time? Hells yes. This is the one place where I can take a hot experience, and twist it with a few delightful embellishes or simply play out how I wish an evening could have gone, might have gone, and sometimes just something that I would never want in real life, but my brain says… maybe? If you’re curious here’s a piece I had published many moons ago, that being said, the link was pretty difficult for my computers security to accept as real, so you might not get to read it. But, here goes… A Night for Three.

When my imagination and experiences come together, I never feel like I can publish those words. They aren’t real, and thus, I feel like there is less value in putting them down on paper. I “love” digging deeper in things that are real, and tangible. I have love in quotations because in the past few years it has been a love/hate endeavour, especially in the finishing of my first memoir. In this moment it is love that I feel. And touch of pride that I continuously put myself out there, trying to ensure that I am the best, possible me that I can be. Genuine and real to all those who are in my inner circle. Wow, from a prompt I thought would have no value, I really have gone on an adventure.

Stay tuned for week three! And if you want to see the behind the scenes, or read a few more excerpts from my short lived Breaking Away After Dark series, check out my Patreon.

Digging Deeper, with Prompting

    K Ghislaine

A Master Class from Women Writers

I’m Still Writing, with a puppy at my feet.

My bestie bought me a book for my birthday, that admittedly I didn’t pay much attention to at the time, knowing full well that it had been gifted with a purpose that I ignored for months. Much to my serendipitous surprise, when I picked it up for my first book of 2025, it turned out to be a 52 week writers prompt. Who knew? I sure didn’t, but, leave it to her to find exactly what I need, and then wait patiently for me to figure it out for myself. As my last post stated, I am going real, raw, and getting back to the basics of why I write, what I write, and contrary to my firm desire to do it on my own, the universe has instead presented me with a method to actually accomplish this. OK fine, I already admitted it wasn’t the universe, it was someone who knows me too well for my own good, isn’t that enough? Oh dear, I’m collecting a lot of these people?!? What have I done? Who am I? My vulnerable underbelly is exposed and it is uncomfortable AF! My very first post of 2025, and I am already going on a tangent to avoid doing the thing I know will feel amazing when I do it. Deep breath, here goes nothing: I’m digging deeper, with prompting.

  1. Memory : The first task is to go sensory deep, and write a memory based of that. This is exactly how I write. Most often I will be sitting in a hot bath, or driving down the road and a smell, or an image will stir something in my brain, and a memory will slowly come into focus. I will remember the people, the words, the sounds, and the feelings in a disjointed rhythm that sometimes becomes an entire article, or will more often then not be something I wanted to accept and then not think about again.

When I smell freshly cut grass, I remember being a toddler on a bright sunny day. Here I am, alongside my grandparents house, pushing a little plastic lawnmower, trying to emulate my grandfather who is hard at work, cutting the grass, just out of view of me. I am pushing the red wheels over concrete, trying to get to him as fast as I can, wanting to be his brave helper, when I get caught up on the crack in the pavement, and tumble to the ground. I start to cry, and he comes racing over. Picking me up in his arms, he states sternly that big girls don’t cry, and my wailing becomes stifled. I don’t want to be a baby, I want to be a big girl, and help him cut the grass. I want him to be proud of me. Of course I’m a toddler and don’t actually know any of these things. But, I remember the smell of the grass. The confident little me, not understanding that I was pushing a toy, rather than an actual grass cutting machine. The warm sunshine on my skin. I forget the skinned knee. I overlook the sternness of his voice, and only know that in those precious moments I was learning who and what I wanted to be. Strong, helpful, brave, and without tears.

As I grew older, I would forget all of these things, with one exception, the not crying part. That was to shape who I was for almost my entire identity. My baseline was if I could overcome my tears, and my humiliation when they got the best of me. Well into my mid 20’s I battled these things pesky salty stains on my cheek. Believing them to be signs of weakness, and the embodiment of everything I hated about myself, my feminine wiles. And then something happened that turned my outlook regarding crying on its head.

When I was in my late 20’s I started crying in front of a long lost boyfriend. In my horror, that I was displaying this pitiable offence, he walked over to comfort me with horny intent. Yes, you read that correctly. This man, that I was seeing, had grown a full on erection at the sound or sight of my sobbing self. And yes, he did indeed begin to comfort me, in the only love language he knew, sex. My tears got me layed. It was a confusing moment. And one that would be repeated, time and time again, adding layers of complexity with how this person, writing before you feels about her tears.

Well, wasn’t that a fun first prompt eh? If you would like to see more, or would like to buy me a beer, please consider subscribing to my Patreon page (Bonus content for this post is already live, and is not PG). Thank you all for sharing my journey thus far!

S%x Fixes Everything

    K Ghislaine

For the longest time, I have held firm to the belief that the most sacred and primal of acts, can in fact fix anything. OK, clearly not absolutely everything, but I have leaned on this idea to patch over more than a handful of difficult situations. And while I desperately want to blame my upbringing, or past men in my life for planting this idea, the truth is, this one is all on me. The idea hit me, long long ago, and I have tricked my little mind into thinking that it has actually worked, and given me more time with the people I have wanted to be with. I mean, the long standing myth is that men only want s%x, ergo, if I want to be with them, then presto… we do it all the time for a happy ever after.

Unfortunately, while the act itself is fun, and provides a lot of health benefits, especially when it comes to endorphins, and all those amazing good mood hormones that get released, it doesn’t actually fix problems. Oh, for sure it covers them up for a time. You know that post coitus afterglow time, when everything is magical and happy. But when those happy forces subside, you’re left with the reality of the situation, which sucks so, you do it again. Or at least that is how I managed to extend the life on very dead relationships in the past. And well, it was made all the easier to accomplish, because as you well know, there were multiple people with whom I could chase my orgasmic highs from.

In my head this post played out as more of an instructional, not to do when it comes to keep a relationship alive. And perhaps I will develop that further into a Medium article about some more pitfalls regarding my time in non-monogamy, elaborating on the whole Lust vs Love revelation. Actually you know me, I definitely will. This post however, has taken me on a different path, which is the truth, that fixing things with intercourse does not work when the relationship is not the problem. I am going to go cry in a little corner for a moment, so take a pause with me, and perhaps go shopping for a new toy or waterproof blanket on my home page? *Sniff* *sob* *wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

OK, that was embarrassing, but I’m back. Deep breath here. My relationship is amazing and doesn’t need fixing and that’s wonderful, but I am still in a rut. Why? Because I need some fixing. Nothing huge or major, but I’ve been sad for a while, and have been running on fumes. Thus, this feeling of burntout-ness. It may not be a real word now, but just you watch it catch on become the new thing… burnt-out-ness. It just has all the feels to it. As I wrote in my last post, I am starting to blog again, because I know deep down, sharing in this way balances me. And it is those small things that I need to start doing more regularly, so I can fall back on something while I am tackling some huge life endeavours. And what makes it harder, is that I don’t have a relationship to complain about. All I have, is myself. I have the closest to perfection that I could ever wish for, and am faced with the truth that my relationship with self, kinda sucks right now.

So there, I have admitted I have a problem. And this is notice to self, that we are going to tackle this. We are going to deep dive into why we are here, and why things are not feeling amazing. No more hiding behind self love (yes, that means exactly what you think that means). No more little bursts of relief. We are the result of all our past behaviours, actions, and those people who shared the journey, and it’s time to take a hard look at what we need to let go of, and what things we bring with us for our future journey. But first… s%x! Kidding, not kidding, oh this is going to be hard.

As always, thank you for the love, support, likes, and shares. And those messages of solidarity. Sure I cry when received, but damn do I ever appreciate you all.