The Process

 

First draft – happy

Reread – too long

Second draft – cut the piece in half,

Reword clumsy passages

Walk away and leave it be, I'm just going to ruin it if I don't leave it be

Come back to it a couple days later – hate it

Third Draft – essentially rewrite the whole thing from the beginning

Keeping only the best phrases

Realize that I left out important transitional words in phrases like “or” and “and”

Words that I would just assume were actually written on the page as a I read it

But aren't physically on the page, because that's how my perception works

Fix the text, reread slowly and carefully to assure that every word I'm reading is physically on the page

Walk away and leave it be, I'm just going to ruin it if I don't leave it be

Come back to it the afternoon before Open Mic

Reread – feel confident enough to share this with people

Edit clumsy wording, rephrase lines for better verbal flow

Check again for missing transitional words

As well as words written out of order

Final Draft – good enough

Walk away and leave it be, I'm just going to ruin it if I don't leave it be

Go to Open Mic

Review piece at given intervals between performers

Convince yourself that what you have is better than you think it is

Mentally rehearse your performance,

Remind yourself that what you have in hand is brilliant, even if you don't believe it, yet

The only difference between you and JK Rowling is a name

The only difference between you and Stephen King is a name

The only difference between you and every other writer that has what you want is a name

And this, this is how you're going to make that name

Writing this, performing this, because this is what sets you apart

This is what makes you different

This is what makes you better than every other writer that has ever been

Because they can't do what you can do

They can't be you

Perform the piece

Gauge audience response

Socialize and Network with other artists

Absorb anything that helps you improve

Go home

Repeat the process, beginning with the First Draft

Abigail's Revenge

 

She cast a spell to defend her love

Offended by a knowledge unworthy of

The ecclesiastical fraudulence

Of modesty stolen through their violence

The townsfolk come to burn her home

Suspected as a witch and they’re not wrong

Burn the house with the witch inside

Spare the stake, and save ourselves some time

Abigail was never the one to turn the tide or set the sail

She screamed for mercy as her flesh burned to no avail

The mob outside could hear her pleas for sanity

They were more than willing to snuff their humanity

What we did, we did to protect our children

To save ourselves from the Devil’s Fate

To spare our men these lustful thoughts

And snuff the rivalry of women’s hearts

She casts a spell to exact revenge

Inhabits the soul of clueless young man

Oh, the gospels she will preach

To the underlings of a madman within her reach

Recruit a family of ruthless thugs

Build a following of fireflies

She’s taken the whole world in her hands

Slowly picking off the fiends abound

There’s a light on the other side of life

But none of us can see through the night

So we wander ‘round this life so aimlessly

Looking for causes that we can affect

Because nothingness is a fear we can’t reject

Dear Abby died for our sins

Not for our redemption’s sake

But only because our cowards had their way

And remember, young fireflies

Sister Abigail will always light the way

And all we’ll ever have to do

Is let her in

x

I Am A God

 

Hello, my name is Daria Quinn, and I am a god. Not THE God, that's a bit more complicated. Basically, THE God is not so much a being as He is a concept, the idea that all there is, was, or ever could be is connected by a single, shared origin. And, to our knowledge of science and the cosmos, it's true. We all come from hydrogen and carbon and share a common lineage with stars and snails.

However, despite all of that, we are unique, because we know ourselves. We have a greater understanding of ourselves, and the cosmos than any other creature we have ever observed. We built homes, we invented machines, we discovered fire, and electricity, and magnetism and bent them to our will. We have powered our engines through sunlight, water, wind, and the fossilized remains of the dead centuries past. We have forged civilizations, founded nations, built churches and synagogues in tribute to powers beyond our comprehension, yet still managed to hold on to the curiosity of a child and seek out the answers to the questions we have only just learned to ask.

Our creativity makes us gods, whether it's expressed through art, machinery, science, philosophy, literature, athletics, mathematics – we have always looked at what is, and asked ourselves, what could be? What can be? What can we do different? What can we do better? Can this change, and will that change be for the better? And if not, why not, and let's see if we can change that, too.

We refuse, by virtue of our very existence, to be shackled to our limitations as we reach towards greatness. We are the culmination of billions upon billions of centuries of nuclear reactions, mutations, adaptations, diversifications and conceptions, and it is through us that the next great thing in this universe will come to pass, if not by our hands, by the hands of children's children's children.

If you are alive and you have a soul, a thought in your mind and the will to carry it out, you are a god.