shrouded

A Striptease For You

strippers photo: strippers strippers-3.jpg

I’m in a bit of a rut. You see, the writer part of me wants needs to create things that the blogger part of me doesn’t. Writing is a way of exorcising demons. A cathartic cleansing. An artistic pest control for the brain. Typically, I mold my toxins into little analogies that take on lives of their own, a.k.a. my fiction stories. The problem? I haven’t been writing any new stuff lately. I’ve been busy with the novel and, oh, I don’t know…blogging.

The blog for me is a playground. A very necessary one. I want to keep it that way. I’m honest as shit, self-deprecating, silly, sometimes naughty (okay, a lot naughty),  sarcastic… but I also conveniently hop around the heavy stuff. And that’s okay. I have to look too many of my real-life readers in the eye. That’s a vulnerability I’m not comfortable with. But when I don’t write the heavy shit out, I get stuck.

Beth stuck =  a  f*cked up Beth

I scour other blogs whose innards are displayed for all to see, and I admire the shit outta them. Their bravery astounds me. But I don’t work that way. I’ve tried. Doesn’t mean I won’t try again. But I have to feel it. If I’m going to give you the Full Monty, it had better matter.

Part of what makes my fiction so complex and dynamic (and yes, twisted at times) is that it’s the conduit for everything I’m not able to express any other way.

It’s the metaphorical me. Stripped. Bleeding my soul onto the pages.

Naked.

My blog may be a tease, but I bare it all in my stories.

I like poetry for this purpose. I can be naked, yet shrouded in mist and mirrors. Inference and innuendo. Here is one where I am fully exposed. Can you see me?

Dwellings
Murky basements, web covered nooks hide
forbidden yearnings, mummified.
Music wakes them, songs siren.
They crawl and beg to be
heard again. Breathless
trepidation,
I unfurl.
Set me
free.

You probably can’t. Not totally. But that was the goal.

I’ve got to get the novel put to bed. So you can read it. And so I can move on.

I need to get back to writing. Characters await.

Is writing cathartic for you? Do you write “naked”? How do you see your blog? Do you dance around certain subjects? Your comments MATTER.

**Related Post: I’d like to thank My Inner Chick for her post on blogging without boundaries, which led me to deconstruct and evaluate the struggle I was having, and ultimately help me understand how I write.