For this one, I’m adding a note here first for some context. I recently read an article about Trump suggesting “menstrual classes” for US women to help increase birth rates in America. Because you know…none of us seem to know how our bodies work. ๐ The article was a little bit too Handsmaids Tale-ish to me, and so ludicrous that I simultaneously wanted to laugh and cry. The disgusting desire to control women’s health is just so disrespectful and alienating. I also can’t believe that it’s even happening to begin with. The ignorance and corruption. And at any rate, it also pissed me off, and so, of course, I wrote something in response to it. I wrote several stanzas, to be honest, but in the end, I only needed one.
This is a new project I’ve been working on. Spring is almost here and I’m feeling hopeful. To be published on Amazon in December 2025!
A little bit about the project…
This is a collection of new material from the last few years exploring the ‘what’s been left behind’ from my college years, who I am now and the joys and struggles of being an adult. There are themes of feminism, mental health, self-doubt…and some silly poems about the weather, of course.
I’m very excited with how this is coming together!
Not final cover. TBD!
There will be more posts about this project later on in the next few months.
Our dog Teddy pretending to work, AKA, stealing my spot on the couch.
I’ve started a new fiction writing project recently, and every time I get into Microsoft Word to write, copilot chimes in and asks me if I want assistance.
I click out of it furiously, feeling almost insulted and hurt. Why would I want assistance with my own creative project?!
And then a few hours ago, while working on a letter at work, I wrote in Microsoft copilot for assistance. Yes, please help me write these generic phrases into new words.
I’m probably late in the game for this conversation, but I guess I’m curious to see what you, my fellow creatives, feel about AI?
I have such a love/hate relationship with it. I get entertained when AI writes in the voice of Shakespeare, and then on the opposite: I feel so attacked as a creative writer that a computer can do what I choose and love to do in two secs or less.
I remember reading an article a while back where an author actually ran an experiment with readers where they were given an AI generated story and one written by someone. In the end, they found that the story written by an actual person was the more popular choice. Maybe it had something to do with AI being too general and using phrasing that didn’t fit with the overall narrative… I don’t quite remember the why.
But in an age where technology dominates and everyone is desperate to get ahead… especially financially, I can’t get rid of this fear that I’ve missed my chance to let my voice be heard.
Am I too late to be a published author? Or will AI-generated material get published, too, and ruin my chances? I need to do more reading on this.
I am interested to know your thoughts!
Sorry, I’m a bit late posting this week, and I missed last week, too. I am recovering from a nasty cold. I hope you are all well!
no one told me that when you get older those friends you saw everyday won’t be around as much those girl shopping days nights out at the bar, dancin’ or slumber parties don’t happen as often
because we’ve got families and adult responsibilities and making plans is like getting the planets to align
and one one told me that one night you’ll watch a video about two friends and it’ll bring back a sudden ache for those carefree nights where a drink at a bar and a DD were the only things we were worried about
and no one told me that you’ll miss your friends like a promise you can’t keep like a cloud that blew across the sun a hollow longing that hollars down an empty road
and that one day we got together for a slumber party wished on stars together and told secrets for the last time
๐ฅบ Our future here in the US is so uncertain. I’m scared of what our future looks like. No, I’m terrified. I’m so glad I get to watch the world burn around mebecause of someone I didn’t vote for. ๐