i will be posting a short story in micro-posts… if that’s even a term. if it isn’t i’ve invented it just now so i’ll sue you if you steal it (if you’re rich). it’s a short story, perhaps not the last, about a murder. it’s horror. what i mean by micro-posts is that i plan to tell it in 2-3 paragraph posts over time. you’ll see.

i’m using this as a method to combat some semi-severe writers block/depression. i say semi, because at times i can write and write and it just comes to me as if odin is wafting and apollo is purring. other times (more often than not lately) i stare forward to a blank page or scan several sentences of notes and wonder why life exists at all and why i’m still here. yes, i have major depressive disorder but don’t worry, this isn’t unique for me–i’m an existential nihilist.

i’ll keep telling my micro-story until it’s over or until i get sick of it. i have several poems i’ve worked on and i think are terrible, so i haven’t put them over on sudden denouement or even on here. thus, the utter silence on my blog. i’ve also worked on my other book, another secret project (way in the future), and sent out some query letters for my novel. since it’s my first book and it probably sucks i might just self publish it, but i figured why not try a little? i only just sent the letters out. we’ll see.

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Meet Sudden Denouement Collective Member Samantha Lucero

i did a thing where i answered a questionnaire.

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

The editors of Sudden Denouement Literary Collective know that our strength is our writers. We hope that you enjoy getting to know them through our new Writer Interview Series.

What name do you write under?
My poetry and short stories are under Samantha Lucero.

In what part of the world do you live?
Super cowboy USA Hot Dog Rocket Ship Number One.

Tell us about yourself. 
According to BuzzFeeds, “What Batman villain are you?” quiz I’m the Joker. Some people just wanna watch the world burn.

 Where do you publish your work?
six red seeds

When did you begin your blog and what motivated you start it?
Few years ago after hoarding short stories, half-finished novels, poems, screenplays, graphic novels, dead bodies, teeth, cat skulls, I decided to create a centralized location to dump it all. Believing that it would function more as a private sanctum and a way to…

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writing (a) novel(s)

i’ve finished writing a novel. a few people have asked advice. i will make another post about what the hell i plan on doing with it, because… i have no idea! i think i’ve decided to go the old-fashioned route and send it to literary agents rather than self-publish (for now), consequently, probably building an even fuller rejection folder.

this post was inspired by an email conversation i’m currently having with n. ian mccarthy. who btw, is awesome.

before you decide to read this post, i need to present a full disclaimer: i have no idea what i’m talking about, and i am not fishing for any advice / personal opinions, although,  advice / personal opinions aren’t necessarily uninvited. i am also not saying that i am any kind of expert, because trust me, i am nothing near an expert at anything. except maybe avoiding conversations in public.

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art is long, time is short.

why the silence?

poems used to pinch me out of no where. they’d tap me on the spine in the bathroom, press their cold nose on my ear while i was at the grocery store. they’d well up in my mead glass and i’d drink them until the grin on my face was a glasgow.  they’re miniature autobiographies, fiction, non-fiction, the smallest stories, can fit them into a dollhouse.

but my time is scarce. this isn’t a personal diary (i wouldn’t have time for it, even though that might be amusing), and even if i’ve mentioned personal things here before, i prefer to just be my work as much as possible. ‘when mozart died, he just became music.’ — and so, all my time, tiny as it was, has been devoted to writing my novel. the novel is now finished. which means maybe, just maybe, poetry will stab me again. and again.

of course, this means editing for hundreds of years on that novel, but the accomplishment is done and the time has partially freed up. i’ll also be figuring out where i’d like to send it out to, whether or not to use kindle, as this is not my magnum opus. a first novel never is.

i intend to get to work on another novel soon, as well, but i’m taking this time to let the story take root within me. it’s actually a half-finished novel from years ago (the one that i may be working on next, that is.) and i need to bake longer.

as for my book i’ve just written, it’s about a woman who goes on a road trip to kill the man who’s killed her daughter. as i edit, i’ll post excerpts, perhaps from each chapter.

i’ve got a few drafts saved here on wordpress, full of cobwebs and carcasses and carapaces, of some rants about pictures i’ve found in vintage stores, being a mom, which i suppose could pass for prose, so i may be editing those shortly and posting them here.

i also have piles of half-done poems, sad, i know.

and a list of places seeking content…

so here i go to become music again.

 

i somehow forgot to mention.

some time ago, i submitted a horror story for an upcoming halloween anthology taking place in salem. the story’s called ‘let’s kill her‘ and they just accepted it to be published in the book. more details to come. i’ve put an excerpt of it here before, i just don’t want to dig for it. no need to read any further if you’ve already read it before, it’s the same excerpt. also, please tell me to commit to sleeping more.

i am still working on a novel. 30k isn’t a bad word count for how little time i have to truly get into the mood and let go, and just write and write. it’s a slow process. i am waiting to get my rejections from the reviews i’ve submitted to before publishing my poetry book. it’s nothing that anybody hasn’t read on my blog or on sudden denouement  already, perhaps only a few unpublished pieces.

and isn’t it the biggest curse of the creative to find ourselves in stagnate ruts and have no idea how we got there? the stars align for me sometimes, or maybe it’s all ritualistic for me to feel driven. although, i am interrupted often by screaming, or MAMA, MAMA, which doesn’t help my already delicate concentration♡ so much to do, so little time. lately, it seems anything can put me in quicksand. the reason i was so disappointed in the movie a quiet passion, was not only because it royally sucked (my cousin rachel was much, MUCH better, yet strangely has a lower rating? i have a thing for period pieces.)  but because i can relate to the isolation that emily dickinson gladly, and at times perhaps not so gladly, placed herself in. it became a bad habit of mine to isolate myself when i was staying in florida. i’ve moved away from that awful place of course since february, having too much of my genes be comforted by the cold to ever stay where i was so lost in the constant heat. even new orleans isn’t as bad. i could sip absinthe happily in the pirates alley all day and get beignets when my stomach went sour, but i couldn’t wait to breathe somewhere that wasn’t florida. the habit has carried over to where i live now, somewhere that makes some semblance of sense,  but i’m slowly working on it. the only place i really go is the gym, and everyone leaves you alone there. best place ever. i guess i’m a model introvert who can speak to people easily, but prefers peace. not that i get any with twins. especially now that one of them talks. it’s so fucking cute.

anyway, i was getting at admitting that i am nervous as fuck to go to this book release event that’s coming up. the other book i’m in, well, that my poem is in, has a release event. other poets are reading their work live. i already told them i won’t be doing that, but will be very, very happily attending. by happily i mean anxiously, because it’s going to be quite a crowd. so back to the excerpt.

‘let’s kill her’ is a short story about a murder that takes place halloween morning, and is avenged on halloween night.

Continue reading “i somehow forgot to mention.”

here i go again …

submitting poetry to big(ger) publications.

here’s to waiting 6+ months to see if one, or both will be published in the new yorker.

the thing that sucks isn’t the waiting, in fact, that’s the best part because i forget completely and therefore all attachment dissolves. the thing that sucks is that i sent them two poems i ended up really, really loving and want to put them into my poetry book, which i might publish before they reject me. and then those two gems are left behind.

then again, i could just keep accumulating more work until then, it depends.

the novel is taking center stage in my time and attention lately anyway.

‘ghost stories’ anthology

i am working on two stories for this anthology, actually. one is a collaboration, and one is by only me. i’m in the editing process of this one, having completed it some weeks ago. i’ll be finishing up editing it by tonight (i hope) and sending it in. we’ll see what happens; i’ll find out in august or september.

meanwhile, i’ve been working on my own full-length novel (top secret) and gathering content for my poem book. and feeling somewhat out-of-body.

here’s an excerpt of one of the ghost story’s i’m submitting to a small publication, it’s called “those nocturnal hours

Continue reading “‘ghost stories’ anthology”