New Chapter

As I prepare to start a new chapter in my life I want to take a moment to express my gratitude for all the blessings in my life. I have been blessed with a supportive and loving family.

It was all the love and support that allowed me to grow as a person and complete my educational goals.  When I enrolled in a local community college many years ago  I thought I knew what I wanted to do.

I thought that I wanted to be a paralegal. At 19 years old I thought this was the right path for me.

When I finally completed my Associate’s degree I discovered that I was a different person and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to work in a law office. A few years later I enrolled in a program at a local college.

Now, I was sure that I wanted a double major in history and political science. One year later, I transferred to another school.

Once again I changed my major.

I changed my major to English.

I have learned that I am constantly growing, changing, and evolving. The goals  I set today may change tomorrow.

One day, I had an assignment to write a piece of flash fiction and I found myself very happy.  The biggest challenge I have had over the years is coming to terms with calling myself a writer. Now, I call myself a writer.

Today, I committed myself to a new chapter of my life.

I am starting chapter one of a new book.

The ending is not quite ironed out yet but the words have been set down on the page.Here are some links to some of the unexpected turns in my story:

https://www.setonhill.edu/news/detail/delia-marrero-receives-first-harlequin-diverse-voices-scholarship/

The Return

This post lays between a poem and blog like two pages stuck together in your favorite book.

On the page where your favorite passage rests.

I took a break.

I lost my way in a hazy maze sometime in October- of some year.

I forgot what I enjoyed about writing.

I forgot how to write.

Maybe, I didn’t forget.

Maybe, I was ignoring the desire, the calling, the muse.

I just let myself fall off the wall refusing to let the kings-men help.

I moved around, numb, on my own endless hamster wheel, living a never-ending rut.

Then, suddenly, I find the desire and joy in writing.

I may not write all the time.

I may not be as consistent as I like but I am here, again.

I fall, over and over again and I like my wounds, I tend to them until they have healed.

I discover the urge that excited me was visiting Rip Van Winkle for a much needed slumber.

Maybe, I had nothing to write about and that’s ok.

Push button start, ignition, READY, SET, WRITE.

Copyright © Delia Marrero 2019 All rights reserved.

‘Tis The Season…

‘Tis the season to revel with family and focus on being. ‘Tis a time for joy. ‘Tis the time for shopping, buying toys for boys and girls.

BAH HUMBUG…

I spent many holidays trying to fill the space between the floor and my Christmas tree with wrapped presents. On Christmas morning my kids were so excited to rip open wrapping paper and play with their new toys. Then, a week later those toys were sitting in the toy box. Small pieces were found beneath the sofa and under the sofa-cushion in the dark spaces where the cushion meets the couch.

As a young mom, I really couldn’t afford Christmas but I went out of my way to do so. I wanted to give my kids everything that I could.  I didn’t want them to be left out when they returned to school, but one day I decided enough was enough.

I couldn’t afford to fill a tree with items that would just be disregarded in a few weeks. I stopped burdening my finances. I realize that I buy them needs and wants all year long. I taught my children to understand that I cannot always buy the wants but I will do my best. What this has taught my children:

  1. To be content with anything that they get. (If you ask my kids what they want for Christmas they usually don’t have an answer.)
  2. If they want something and I can’t afford to buy it,  they save their money until they have enough for the item.

I guess I have come to dislike the holiday over time. The years have shown me how we put a monetary value on the meaning of Christmas. I think that we forget about what we should focus on which is eating food and drinking coquito.

Copyright © Delia Marrero 2018 All rights reserved.

Creative Writing HELP

Hello everyone! It has been a long time since I posted a blog. I have not been writing much since the dreaded writer’s block has made its way into my life and has settled down for the long haul. Recently, I decided that I need to break through this writer’s block and I have been actively revisiting works from my past, rewriting, redrafting and submitting. I have been receiving rejection letters but they do not deter me. Then late one night I received an email stating: “Your poem, which speaks to both your love of poetry and the moment of birth of your work is wonderful, and your letter which reveals the joys and the struggles of creative writing (btw: I’ll be talking about my own first 100 rejections in the class I teach) is precisely why MVICW exists—you seem a perfect match for our program.” I received a partial scholarship opportunity for a week-long writing workshop.

I am writing to ask for your help. Since this is only a partial scholarship p I still have to pay the remaining tuition balance, lodging and travel expenses.

I am reaching out because I need help. I have had unforeseen expenses and my general responsibilities and bills have made this surprising opportunity a little challenging to come up with all the necessary funds. The program received an additional donation and reached to me for the opportunity. If you can help it would be greatly appreciated.

Below is the link to my go fund me campaign:

https://www.gofundme.com/creative-writer039s-dream

 

THANK YOU! SHARING HELPS TOO!

 

 

Releasing Writing Fears

I like writing but I am hesitant about sharing. Self-doubt, apprehension, and fear continuously rear their putrid heads over and over again.  The self-doubt and apprehension lead me to write. In part, I believe that this is an oxymoron because the fear and apprehension should make me run from the craft.

The exploration of my language leaves me at a loss sometimes. I am lost in my thoughts and words— constantly. I am lost in observation and I am lost in the wonderment of exploration. I can explore the darkest thoughts of my mind and create something truly unique or I can create a poem that embraces every romantic idea I have ever come across and yet somehow, I feel it’s never good enough.

It’s not good enough so it’s not worth sharing.

I have so many creations, characters, and plots that are begging for exposure.

They haunt my thoughts daily.

They chase me down dark damp dreary desolate corridors.

They rush to the forefront seeking the spotlight in the world. They long to enter the minds of others and leave behind an impression of existence.

And, then, there is me.

I stand in the way of everything. I place myself between the world and my words.

Is this intentional sabotage or uncertainty? It may be both.

So I have decided to make myself uncomfortable!   I am trying to share more, I am seeking exposure, albeit, baby steps but nonetheless steps in the WRITE direction.

The first thing I did was enter a poetry contest. This forced me to create and compile a collection of my poetry. A total of 51 poems which explore my love of poetry by exploring the concepts of identity, love, sex, fear, torment, nature, and any other experience of the human existence I could muster up from the left and right hemispheres of my brain.

I am also going to continue my novel, a multi-cultural contemporary romance novel sprinkled with history. The book explores the harsh realities of love, loss, grief, trauma, history and there is the possibility of happiness (this is still to be determined).

And—for my last trick there are these short stories I have been working on. Sorted little tales I take the most pleasure in writing.

I am exploring the world of writing, my world of writing. I am going to take the time and cultivate my craft and figure out what I will do with it in the next few months.

I invite you to share your writing fears, inhibitions or apprehensions. Expose them, explore them then release them.

Puerto Rico

I am writing today from within. I write from the roots of my being. I am an American, a Puerto Rican. I am the daughter of an island born on the mainland of a country in turmoil over identity. Today, I see inaction on behalf of other American citizens, on inhabitants of an island in despair.  Americans absent from inclusion, they live on an island bombarded by the waters of grief and we are all hurting. Our island is in trouble and we are stranded on the mainland, hopeless, fearful, and desperate.

La isla del encanto, la isla de mi niñez, drowned by a storm— is surfacing for air.

And I see all of us crying out for our people.

I see humanity emerging from the depths of tragedy.

We cry out with memories of a coqui singing, the sounds of parrandas bellowing through the night, el cuatro is the backdrop of my childhood, with trio music cascading through my memories.

I still smell el calor de la lluvia que cae en el verano and I hear my grandmother saying to me, “se caso la bruja, lluvia con sol.”  I can’t translate culture. I can’t turn this refrán into something that makes sense in English. Sometimes, I can’t make sense of myself in America, because I am  Puerto Rican. The earmarks of our culture lose meaning when we try to translate them.

We try to translate our being, our identity. We try to be American- but we don’t have to try because we are Americans with a dash of sazón.

Our culture is a mixture of history told over the sounds of an island’s melody for decades.

We are American. We are part of this country too; we are the people of a nation that ignores us.

We fight in wars, we work in your business, we are doctors, nurses, teachers, representatives, we even hold a position in the Supreme Court, we are Grammy award winners, Tony award winners, actors, actresses, sports players, musicians, rappers, poets, writers, executives, secretaries, your neighbors, and friends.

It saddens me that the tragedy which has fallen upon the birthplace of my ancestry has devastated the Motherland. But I want you to remember “Esta raza siempre es brava/ Aunque sople el temporal” (Residente, Hijos Del Cañaveral).

Don’t lose sight of the solidarity that has forged from this tragedy. Make an effort to help. Bring attention to the plight of our island; bring attention to the people of the island. Don’t sit down and remain silent, write letters make phone calls, donate money for relief efforts (Donating items is not always the best solution unless you know what is exactly needed. Avoid waste).

Find out where the relief efforts are, change the conversation of the nation unite with others and make CHANGE happen.

Music Mondays: Changes

Change starts with you! Remember your history as a warning, learn from the lessons of the past. Changes start with people like us-it is up to us to make things all right.

 

 

Let’s Share: What Stephen King Taught Me

K.D. Dowdall states: “I was a competent mimic.” Why does this particular line speak to me? Well, because it encomapsses everything that any artist needs in order to perfect their craft. The reason is because imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. For writers if you do not know how to imitate the style of those authors you love then you can’t write. You will not be able to take your reader on a journey and loose them within the creations of life you penned and you’ll loose them to the world in the first line.

I heard this at the writers conference critique, “The begining should be a promise to your reader.” That stuck with me, it is a powerful concept to think that as a writer I promise to guide my reader on a journey.

If you can’t keep that promise then how can you write?

 

 

 

Pen & Paper

Stephan King

Stephen King wrote a seminal work on fantasy fiction writing—a memoir of the craft on writing by the same name: Stephen King: A memoir of the Craft – On Writing.

When I decided to write fantasy fiction, instead of just dreaming about it, I decided the best place to start would be with Stephen King. Who better to learn from but a master fiction writer?  So, I purchased his book in the year 2005, read it several times, high-lighted tantalizing concepts, tabbed with sticky writable tabs until I had outlined the entire book.  I soon learned that reading about writing, tabbing every conceivable point of interest does not necessarily create a master fiction writer or even a mediocre fiction writer.

So, I stopped reading books on writing and just started reading books I loved: Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Edgar Allen Poe, Harry Potter, Hans Christian Anderson, and so many others.  I…

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Let’s Share: Patricia Bell-Scott

Again, I am going to talk about another wonderful woman I met over the weekend at this writing conference I attended.

Patricia Bell-Scott, I don’t even have words to describe the friendship that emerged. She is an award winning published author and all around humble human being.

Please check out her website:

http://patriciabellscott.com/

Then purchase her newest book:

The Firebrand and the First Lady 

Music Monday’s

I forgot it was Monday and that I should be sharing some music. In the spirit of this weekend-here are my choices.

Notice the recurring theme!

Because I am a queen that thing goes on-and-on.