|Posted on February 10, 2017 at 2:00 AM|
My poem Into Thin Air is published in the Febuary issue of Ink in Thirds, Issue 9. I'm proud and honored to be included. Ink in Thirds is always full of exceptional writing and this is an especially wicked cool issue ... not your ordinary Valentine. You have to take a look.
Read it here free https://issuu.com/inkinthirds/docs/issue_9_-_february
Suzette 10 February 2017
|Posted on December 19, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
|Posted on December 12, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
|Posted on December 11, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
Characters are fallible, just like we are. They often have no idea what's happening to them the whole time we're shouting, "Watch out! Watch out!" It's easy for the reader to see the truth before they do.
Sometimes that character is us. Did you ever have something completely unexpected happen to you? Then a terribly annoying friend says, "Well, I saw that coming a mile away." It was so obvious to the whole world, but not at all to you. You had no clue.
We fool ourselves. We are hopelessly optimistic, believing if we are good, then good will come to us and somehow all the bad things will miss us. But we're never safe. The truth always bites us in the end. I know a character or two just like that.
Myself for one.
Suzette 11 December 2016
|Posted on December 9, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
|Posted on December 8, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
It's a paradox. The more specific you get, the more of your own personal truth you try to reach, the more universal you get, the more universal truth you reach. You have to be personally honest and naked to show what we all try to hide or deny. Then you reach all of us. Those are the good stories, the good poems. So I've been doing a lot of painful soul digging ...
I sound like a shitty Jim Morrison poem.
Suzette 8 December 2016
|Posted on December 5, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
We can understand anyone once we know their story. We can identify with them, usually gladly if they're one of the good guys. But sometimes we identify even if we don't want to admit we can, even if it horrifies us. Can we understand a villain? A monster?
Can we even come to love them once we know their story?
Suzette 5 December 2016
|Posted on November 30, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
|Posted on November 28, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
My theory: don't show the reader the whole picture, don't feed them the story. Make the reader put together the pieces of their own picture to see what they will see. Readers love a challenge, a riddle, a mystery. And readers love a story that's personal to them. Make them work for it. I like to.
Then the wicked side of me says: Readers also love to understand. Or think they understand. Let the reader think they understand. Then rip the rug right out from under them. Just when they think they have it all figured out, trick them like a bastard and show them they really didn't understand a thing.
I love those kinds of stories, the kind that hit me with something I never saw coming. Those are the cruelest, greatest stories.
Or maybe I've just got an evil side.
|Posted on November 23, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
|Posted on November 3, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
This month I'm participating in NaNoWriMo by continuing to write poetry and short stories instead of a novel. My goal is to finish and submit work I love. I know I'll reach my goal. And I know myself ... when I succeed, I won't stop at the end of the month.
|Posted on October 31, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
|Posted on October 23, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
I've quit everything else to write full time now, and I mean constantly. The stories are all I think and all I breathe. It's wonderful and terrible all at once.
So read my work. And thank you for reading.
Suzette 23 October 2016
|Posted on September 2, 2016 at 5:00 AM|
I'm in Germany this month, but I'll be back writing soon. I find a lot of inspiration here, beauty, excitement, rich folklore, fun-loving friends. But sadly there's also inspiration of the horrific kind all around. I'm staying in a place that was once a center of Nazi activity so there are some terrible, solemn sites nearby.
I wander around at night a lot. Maybe I think I can't write about fear if I never experience it. The more fear and horror I experience, the better story I'll write.
Yes, I always end up regretting that. It wasn't smart when I was the only one who got off a train late at night in Germany at a dark, deserted underpass beneath deserted city streets ... deserted except for a group of unoccupied thugs waiting in the underpass. But that's fear of the known, human kind.
One night I came across some monstrous old Panzer hangars when I was exploring an old Nazi barracks in the dark. I was suddenly very aware of how exposed I was and how isolated this place was. I couldn't hear any sound but I knew I wasn't alone. It wasn't just that I couldn't hear anything, but I couldn't hear any sound at all. Not even the wind that had been blowing, the owls that had been calling. Everything was deadened, hollow, like the air was almost sucked out of the night. Dead. I started to fear that I may have gone back in time. Or something evil had remained. It was fear of the unknown, the inhuman.
Haunted or just horrific? Places like this, abandoned or repurposed, with such a history in them have an eerie feeling that can't be denied, even if the experience is only in our own minds. These experiences make us very aware of the atrocities we are capable of and how vulnerable each of us is, how very fragile our lives are.
They make me aware of how the passage of time doesn't ever erase the faces of the dead or ever silence their voices. Especially out walking alone after midnight in places no one sane should never be.
Suzette 2 September 2016
|Posted on August 29, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
My new collection of short stories is under way. I've always been fascinated by the questions of individual perception. Isn't it exactly when we're at our most certain that what we perceive to be reality is truly real that we're at our most deluded? I can't put this unsettling question out of my mind, or won't.
The novel is still haunting me but I've set it aside to quietly stew for a little while. The characters want to figure several things out for themselves and live together in peace for a little while longer before we intrude on them.
Suzette 29 August 2016
|Posted on May 7, 2016 at 1:00 AM|
I am working on my new novel. Of course there are ghosts. Everyone's story is haunted in its way. There are two very lost people and one true friend and one overwhelming tragedy.
I'm writing this story about fear. Fear can crush all our hopes. What do you fear most? Death? And is it always your own death you fear most? Fear, loss, death ... these terrible things are immense, but love is bigger than any of them. The terrible things often win for a time, but love beats everything in the end. Love wins. Love always wins. At least in the good stories.
And I promise you I'll make this one a good one.
Suzette 7 May 2016