Hey guys,

I just thought I'd let you know that I'm pulling a hiatus from dA for a while. I don't know how long I'm going to be away but I doubt it'll only be a little while.

Recently, I've just been feeling uninspired and that I'm achieving nothing with my writing, that I'm repeating the same monotonous theme or tone or structure with every piece I write.

I'm hoping this break will give me the chance to find some new inspiration and to come up with some better pieces of work. When it does, I'll be back.

I'll miss you guys.
xo

Hey guys,

I just thought I would briefly pop back to explain why I haven't been around for a while.

At the moment, I'm coming to the end of my second year of University. This means I have heaps and heaps of assignments to complete and exams to revise for so I'm not on the Internet as much as I used to be in order to finish them on time.

I finish my last exam on the 8th of May so, hopefully, I should be back after then if I survive all of this

Anyway, I'm missing you guys like crazy and I'm so looking forward to going through all of your deviations when I come back.

Take care.

I'm not particularly fond of putting news in my journals but I'm just so excited right now I can't believe it!

I've just found that that my poem Here's To You. I Guess ([link]) has just been picked to be in my University's creative writing magazine.

Night-room
JULY 23RD

The gold and silver days of being no one
are stripping us of bone
like soft fish.

Selima Hill (2004) Lou-Lou.
Bloodaxe Books:Wiltshire.

• Gather the following together: three dogs; three pens; a waterproof notebook (plus sundry pages of typescript and/or pages torn from other notebooks) with an elastic band around it; Nivea cream; lots of sweets; a bottle of water; a dog’s bowl; a swimsuit (in case you take a dip in the sea); a scarf (to sit on and/or use as a towel); spare pair of socks (in case you stumble into a bog); bus timetables (in case you end up far from home); glasses (to read the timetable); tobacco tin; a small empty Tupperware container…

• Cram all but the dogs in a rucksack and set off at a smart pace. As you walk, look for an object to put in the Tupperware box – a dead butterfly, a yellow pebble, a scrap of blue paper, an empty condom packet.

• Be aware of your surroundings – seashore, woodland, farmland – and focus on the colour and texture of what you see. Let these conjure events, fragments of knowledge, wisdom, emotion.

• At intervals stop and make notes, writing as fast as you can, without putting on your glasses. Ensure that your writing is too small to be read with the naked eye. Do not stop. Do not put your glasses on. Do not attempt reread what you have written. Eat sweets.

• Later, at home, go to your desk, on which will be a fan of notes and bits of poetry arranged in approximately 17 different piles. Each pile corresponds to one unfinished poem. If you feel you have written something useful on your walk, tear out the relevant page from your notebook and place it on one of these piles (or start a new one).

• Now select a pile to work on (because you write so much, some piles may be quite substantial).

• To help you focus on the kernel of the poem, place an appropriate object from one of your Tupperware treasures (see above) on your desk and concentrate on it. This will allow you to select the fragments and images you need. It also allows you to plunder other piles without being drawn too far into the worlds of the other unfinished poems.

• Another day, another excursion. This process may produce one long poem, or a sequence of 17 which inhabit the same symbolic and imaginative world and which relate subtly to one another as various elements have been moved to and fro across the desk.

From [link]