Things that are hard.

I’m still sick and not sleeping well and am thus not doing things the way I normally do.

When I am this crazy and this tired writing is hard. My brain is too full and too strange to do anything with.

These are the times I value my little notebooks so much. My new one is a purple wide ruled composition book, the cover of which bears my scrawled personal bit of stolen words, Write Like A Mother fucker.

Inside is my toll free number and email address if I lose it.

I’ve been writing in it, especially these days with how I’m feeling. Tonight I wrote a passel of angry senryu and I wrote a tiny erotic thing about Oshun.

I am too raw for any planned or long thought about writing. Everything rubs me raw or wrong.

I just logged a painful withdrawal. I really wanted that actual rejection. Having my repeated queries entirely ignored stung. I take silence kinda personal like.

I am aching for rejections. This inability to get things out right now is fucking with me.

So yeah.

In other news, I am so excited that my little story No Habla finally got accepted. I think it is the time of year to make some big swing type submissions. Those are the Big Fucking Deal To Me zine submissions that I am 90% sure I will get rejected but doing it does a lot for me.

Anything else?

Not really. I want to talk about privilege again, mainly in response to something a (former?) reader asked me. I need more stamina for that though, it’s not going to be a nice post.  I also want to talk about my voice problem and how it relates to things I write.

Actually let me do that right now.

So I wrote a little thing last week, quick fast boom boom boom and I realized today that it went fast because in my head Remittance Girl was speaking it. Not that she personally was the narrator but the narrator has her physical voice in my head.

That is the thing that makes writing good for me. I think it stems from my voice fetish, yes I do really have one. Being that I frequently write in the first person I need a narrator to talk in my ear. I actually hear it. sometimes I can’t remember if I’ve eaten or peed but I can remember the nuances of a voice with frightening alacrity.

I can remake pitch and timbre, I can hear the voice in and around the words and suddenly when I get the audio, things are fucking magic.

I have a really hard time without the audio.

I think that’s all. I am so exhausted I feel like I have crackbugs and I’m seeing shit out of the corner of my eye.

About Shannon Barber

I am a strange little woman who likes pie. View all posts by Shannon Barber

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