Tag: Breaking Away

Week 13 & 14: Honesty and Making a Living

    K Ghislaine

What a powerful combination of weeks to end up being paired together by me, and my super busy life: Honesty and Making a Living. So, let me just dive into this one. Honesty was prompted by a quote from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie in which she talks to fiction and it’s truthfulness. In fact, she argues that authors are more truthful when they write fiction than they are when they write non-fiction, i.e. memoirs. Of course this struck a chord with me. In fact, my first real attempt at writing my first book was in the fiction medium. The reason, was that I was currently with my partner, and required the veil of fiction to properly get some words on the page that I knew he would feel bad about.

Looking back at that, I cannot help but wonder what that story would have looked like had I continued. Ultimately I am glad I didn’t finish that work, but when it comes to part II of this challenge and Making a Living, well, here I am, not. I learned a fun fact about the Little Women author Louisa May Alcott, that I had never read before, and that was her novel was written for money. While this certainly doesn’t change my outlook on writing, and what is overall permissible to write in order to get notoriety, it did give me a moments pause.

My partner always jokes that I should write a harlequin romance novel, to fund the writing of my actual passions. And whenever I hear this, I laugh and laugh and laugh. But, am I really laughing? The hard truth is my subject matter is not really “monetizable”. For more on that, please read A Free Pass: Writing About Sex as a Woman, in which I explain more on this. But the thing is, the hard thing to come to terms with is, if I had made my book a fiction, instead of a memoir, it might very well have been more easily swallowed. The thing is, we are not yet in a sex positive society, and thus we are more comfortable knowing what really goes on in a relationship under the guise of make-believe.

But you see, I want that to change. I want to push the envelope and be the person who doesn’t make you uncomfortable reading about these things. And so, I suppose, until my book gets published, I will keep not making a living at writing the words that my passion aligns with. And I will continue to be grateful that I have a day job, that pays me for words, at least on a part time basis, even though the words are branded and for them. I am lucky in that. But I yearn to be even luckier, and to one day make a living to do write and talk about the things that I think we need more of in our society, sex positivity (a word still not in the dictionary!).

Thank you all for sharing my ramblings, and an even bigger shoutout to my Patreon subscribers!

Week 11 & 12: Expectations and Words

    K Ghislaine

Well, it didn’t take long for me to miss another week of writing and then, I read my prompts and went, well F%$#. Honestly everything just feels too much right now, and that includes trying to merge these two challenges together, but, I am going to try anyways with expectations and words. Marilynne Robinson speaks to a subject matter that I have poured many words into over the years, with expectations. For you see, my subject matter has long forced me to face this challenge head on, in that, I cannot write what I think the reader wants no matter how many times I convince myself I should. And whenever I do, I watch my engagement drop, sometimes with scary volume. As a writer, no sound haunts like… crickets! And while terrifying, I have learned to be vulnerable, real, and raw (yeah I say that a lot these day) because authentic words are more impactful than trying to gauge what the reader wants. And selfishly I get more out of being truthful and authentic than I ever do when I have tried tailoring my words to reach someone.

Now speaking of words, here is my lame attempt to Segway into another challenge which is in regards to finding new words. As a young reader I took this challenge seriously. I loved reading from a variety of genres and periods of time, revelling in both old English, poetry, and modern words alike. I remember the excitement of reciting speech that made me feel regal, or out of time. Yes, I was an odd duck, but hey, who isn’t? Right?!? As I read that prompt, I grew nostalgic, with the lost magic of learning new words. But, I think this is also due in part to the lament of getting older. As my brain experiences both age, and stress, my capacity to learn new things and retain them is diminishing. As a trade off, my voice and brand are growing stronger, and more sure, but, realizing I am no longer writing with youthful nuance is difficult to accept at times.

I have not read a book with a dictionary in hand in what feels like decades. Perhaps since I first read Robert Greene’s 48 Laws of Power? Ooph, that was in my early 20s’. Maybe it’s time to challenge this brain and see what words I can learn, in tandem with trying to please my Duolingo Owl, because why not do everything at once?

For my loyal readers, I do apologize that this piece was more sterile than usual, and less random stories, but I am dealing with a family emergency and quite frankly, my energy is at an all time low. So please accept these photos, and those on my Patreon as a token of my ongoing appreciation for all of you rather than just my words.

Week 10: Leisure

    K Ghislaine

Isabel Allende challenges this zany idea of using leisure to fuel creativity rather than strict discipline. What sorcery is this? Who does that!?! How does one produce anything without fierce and focused determination, carved out daily writing quiet time, and of course coffee? I’m actually not jesting as much as I want to be.

Looking back, I have taken many a road trips to beautiful mountain landscapes to achieve this rare blend of leisure, and creative fuel. But the thing is, in the winter, I have zero motivation to be out in nature. And thus I rely on schedule and a stricter writing mantra than in the summer. It’s a strange thing to think about, yet it’s true. Yes, I know I could employ the whole go for a drive technique that often stirs up imagination, but without a warm destination, I talk myself out of it. And thus, I have this immense conflict of emotions bridging leisure with writing.

I write with more passion in the sunshine and fresh air. But, I cannot do these things if I am even the slightest bit cold, so until I move somewhere warm all year round (not something I have any desire to actually do) I am stuck with seasonal schedules. And admittedly I think this is why I have struggled to get the ole podcast I keep mentioning recorded. The winter months simply don’t support my random creativity like the sunshine. Maybe what I am really saying is that I am addicted to the D. The vitamin D, get your head out of the gutters! Ok, maybe that too, but that is a whole other post.

That’s all for now. Stay tuned next week to see what randomness comes out of my brain during my year long writing challenge venture. And for those on my Patreon, fuelling me with coffee and beer money, thank you!

Week 7 & 8: Editing and Music

    K Ghislaine

Well, last week I gave myself my first pass, for writing consistency, or clearly lack there of. It is not something I am very generous about doing for me, but hey it was Valentine’s and a long weekend so… it happened and I only beat myself up a little bit with guilt. To get back on track let me merge two writing challenges together that actually hit home and work together, editing and music.

For anyone who doesn’t know, I have written a book, and am currently in agent finding purgatory. But in order to write this book, I did exactly what Zadie Smith suggested, even though I had zero intention of doing that. With a focus on editing she recommended taking a piece that you hadn’t looked at for a time, and re-reading it with the eyes of reader, rather than a writer, and ooph did that ever hit home. When I had left my project, and my past relationship, I picked it back up with fierce determination to get the story right, so I could in essence let go of the baggage. Because I was simply to close to the project, I decided to read it out loud. That was eye opening, and not in a good way.

When I became the reader, I realized to my horror, that the story was flat, and wrong. Something I would have not picked up on had I not stepped away from it. And thus, I had to re-write it, almost in it’s entirety. As I was doing this, I altered my playlist. Yes, this is my nice way of merging these two writing prompts into one piece. Amy Tam spoke to the idea of utilizing music to maintain a mood, basically keeping a song on repeat until that section or tone is correct. And hot damn, if that didn’t resonate with me. In order to get myself back into the writing zone, I would find a song that brought up those particular feels, and would listen to it on repeat. Once I was effectively transported back, I would turn on classical piano and just start pouring my soul out. It was a tactic I stumbled upon and I am so grateful to these prompts for bringing this to the forefront of my brain, so I can now put into words and hopefully future motion things that will ensure my words remain real and raw. Story time:

While this is a painful memory to share I’m going to anyways; the song that I went to in order to finish my book, was Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo. I won’t summarize it, other to say, that the slow sombre beginning brought me down to a place that I could be reflective. As it gets bolder I would get angry, and then feel guilt for being so gullible. These are emotions that are very difficult to keep in motion at the same time, and yet, I needed to be there, in order to remain authentic in my voice. I am not saying by any stretch that I was successful. But, that is technique I used, and one that now that I have read this writing prompt will use again in future to get things right. Find a song, listen to it on repeat to get into that zone, mood, whatever you want to call, and let the words pour out. I just hope that by doing that first, the words I read out loud to edit will be less horrible that they were in that long forgotten first draft…!

Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. And thank you all for the shared stories, words of encouragement, and of course my Patreon subscribers. Stay tuned for next week.

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!