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Handwriting your work
Mar 6th, 2014 by Dusty

Today, so much is done digitally, using computers, devices and smartphones. Many of us always seem to be within arm’s reach of one of our devices. With all this, it can make it hard to make a proper connection with the projects and ideas you are working on.

Handwriting

Handwriting

It can seem sterile and far away, somewhat unreal or foreign. That is why I like to handwrite my work a lot. True, I did write this on a computer, but the idea and outline for the piece was handwritten with care and love in a notebook dedicated to my blogging – and maybe a few doodles.

You can do a lot of good for yourself by handwriting your work.

I do it for many reasons including to help my concentration, to keep my hands loose so my drawing isn’t affected and even to practice my language skills, by writing notes in a different language!

Handwriting notes is said to boost productivity, creativity and morale when working. And handwriting even unrelated things like work notes, shopping lists and diaries can improve your creativity and writing skill for your fictional work too – so perhaps writing that shopping list will help you get your novel done!

Having tangible notes is also very useful for having a hard-copy back-up, in case something goes wrong with your computer.

I recently lost a ton of notes on Japanese from my phone thanks to a minor slip-up and I was so grateful that I still had my paper notes left. One mistake on a computer can lose your work, but paper is a little easier to keep track of.

If you think this could be a good idea for you, perhaps trying it out for a week or two first.

How could you start writing more and does it help you? Let me know!

Dusty x

Quickfire poem: On the Internet
Mar 2nd, 2014 by Entropy

A quickfire poem. No polish, straight from the hip flask. Enjoy! Happy poetry!!

On the Internet

I live in a world of people
But sometimes I have to imagine those people because I am really only in my home alone.

I live in a world of people
And sometimes they all press in on me because I am always only in my home alone.

I live in a world of people but I forget to go out and see them because I am only ever in my home alone.

Turn it off. Go outside. See the world of people. Breathe deep. Be YOU.

‘The out from under’
Mar 1st, 2014 by Entropy

A quickfire poem – from the hip, without polish

‘The out from under’

I struggle beneath his ego
It takes up all the place
I’m pressed into the corner
The walls press on my face

I cannot seem to move
It’s getting hard to manage
He’s sitting on my head
And doing lots of damage

I’m choking in his shadow
To find the smallest chink of light
I will not give up trying
But I am too tired to fight

I don’t know who I’m fighting
Is it him or is it me?
Is this my ego bruising
Or has his begun to breed?

If he’d move over just a tiny bit
And make a little room
Then there’d be air and light and space enough
For everyone to bloom.

I’ll never win by jealousy,
Nor competing. Not by rage.
The book of me is all my own
So turn to my next page

I only win if I do not fight
And don’t give mind to trouble
It’s time to breath in my own light
And pop him like a bubble.

– a quickfire poem
By Kathie Kingsley-Hughes

‘The Tiny Me’
Mar 1st, 2014 by Entropy

A quickfire poem – from the hip, without polish

‘The Tiny Me’

There’s a little me, who I hear, who I know…

She’s very small and quiet and she doesn’t show.

But she’s wise and brave and doesn’t give in.
While I struggle and fight and can never win.

Her voice is soft and often lost
amid the daily clamour.
She doesn’t seek a word of praise, competing for the glamour.

And she carries on regardless, in her child-like playful way,
never worrying or caring if her toils see light of day.

If you care to hear her speaking, you may have to listen hard.
But first please drop all your judgements and soften up your heart.

As the outside me grows older, she doesn’t seem to age.
And the outside me gets colder, she never feels my rage.

She just plods on in darkness, not seeking the smallest chink of light, while I struggle to be noticed and fuss and fume and fight.

I wish that I could be her, if only for a minute.

And then perhaps I’d free her …
… to live beyond my limits.

A quickfire poem by Kathie Kingsley-Hughes

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