Mista J

Progression

2013-02-08T17:41:43Z

I have now been enlisted by Cheers to write 3 articles.
1) MEAW member stories about fundraising
2) Creative Corner
3) Small Victories

Woo! I've already submitted my article for the Creative corner, and am currently trying to get research/data for the other 2 articles :)
This year for writing seems to be starting off rather well, all things considered!

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ooh 'citing

2013-01-31T14:42:07Z

I've just been approached by the editor of Cheers magazine, to a) write a piece about me shaving my hair off during MEAW. and b) look at a list of regular articles to see if I want to have a job as a regular article writer for them! Exciting times people...

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End of year Summary at the start of next year...

2013-01-12T11:07:10Z

So in 2012 I got pub;ished 14 times, 7 of which were paid for, 1 of which won a poetry competition. I'd say that's a rather successful year.
For 2013, so far, it only being 12.01.13, I have attempted to set up a special interest group magazine for Mensa (pending) and submitted 2 poems to Lyriq magazine, hopefully one of which will be published.
It's all in a years work... :)

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Keeping on

2012-11-02T23:31:05Z

I've just submitted 2 shit articles to magazines. One a spiritual article on how I cleared a 'haunted house' and that article on phrases healthy people say to ill people, only this time I've submitted it to a load of womens weekly's. I'm not exactly hopeful about either of them, but I'm just trying to give myself a fighting chance whilst I await inspiration for another article to write...

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Oh yeah, baby!

2012-10-22T19:07:05Z

My article for Cheers has been published online, and the one for Mensa NoW has been published both online and in print.
Oh yeah, baby.
If you count the poem I got published in January (even though it was submitted in December '11) then now...

I've been published five times this year!!!!!
Objective complete.

(Still waiting to hear back from Lyriq and Cygnus)

And I'm also in the starting phases of submitting an article to Cracked.com. Just have to alter my pitch to their liking and produce sources. (The article is about the failings of interpretation of english-american. ie. same words, different meanings depending which country of those 2 you live in.)

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Encouraging...

2012-10-08T17:49:09Z

So, I've heard back from Mensa NoW and my article has been accepted for November's issue :)
I've also submitted a poem to Cygnus-books magazine, it's being considered still atm.

I've sort of made it an unspoken (til now - haha) goal to get published 5 times this year.
So far I'm onto number 3...

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oh yeah!

2012-09-04T21:13:17Z

I have submitted an article to : Cheers 100th edition magazine (ACCEPTED!) and Mensa NOW magazine (Waiting to hear). Oh and if that's not enough, I also submitted a poem to Mensa's poetry journal, Lyriq magazine. (Also waiting to hear back) If all of these get published before the end of the year I'll have had 5 things published this year... Out of 10.

Still waiting to hear the results of mensa's poetry competition, but I don't have high hopes for that one - the competition is fierce!

But because of my 'Inspirational Article' for Cheers, I get to use my favourite icon for this post :D

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Good and Oops

2012-08-03T20:03:57Z

The Good: I got an article about moving house published in Cheers magazine. Woo!
The first Oops: I mistimed it and it's not the 100th edition...
The final Oops: This is the last thing I've submitted and has been accepted. Bollocks, I've got to start writing again... Ahhh...

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How (Not) To Do It.

2012-06-28T17:19:04Z

1) I got published in Mensa NorthWest Magazine.*
2) I lost a £50 bet by being stroppy.

So yeah, woo for me :p Sorry but I'm actually pleased with myself and finding it hard to contain. Little is going right for me atm, but when my writing is periodically published, it gives me a happy for a while. Oh the bet... I'd forgotten about the article (The Ambiguity of Aquaintances) because there had been a slight debate over its authenticity.. but tbh it's so shit I doubt anyone else would have wanted it published. But yeah so when I remembered about it I just said 'I bet you £50 they won't have published it even though they said they would.' I came downstairs, magazine in hand, and fifty quid out of pocket.. in theory anyway. Luckily J has been very awesome and not insisted I pay it off. Anyway, it's not like we shook on it or anything... So yeah. Awesomeness.

*July issue. The above explains why I was missed out of June's issue...

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Untitled poem

2012-05-06T13:47:28Z

Sad words written by a slowly breaking heart

Two minds separated, one remove apart

Good intentions silently floating up the stairs

Poetry being lived by the ones who truly care

Little harmless whispers simmering in ease

Dreams play schoolyard games with the breeze

Unmade beds and stillness in the mind

Subtle reminders of a life lived refined.

Jet-Spero©6thMay2012

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Reply from Mensa re: 'Out or Nout' article

2012-05-03T18:42:14Z

"Hi Jet,

Thanks for sending me the latest... I did like it, made me smile (as a northerner I particularly liked it). I would like to use it and am considering what slot it will fall into - I will let you know when I've decided. In the meantime, do keep on writing...

best wishes

Brian"

:D That's not a no!!!

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Trying Again

2012-04-22T13:13:46Z

Here's an article I've just finished and submitted to Mensa. I'm less than confident it will be accepted to Mensa, but if it is rejected I'll just post it to AYME instead.

( Out and Nout )

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Not at this time

2012-04-20T11:37:05Z

So both The New Writer, and Readers Digest have both said my work wasn't wanted at this time. I'm a bit disappointed, but not too much. I have ideas and plans! I've put out a few feelers on skillpages though, so we'll see.

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The Fourteenth Time's A Pain

2012-04-01T13:02:51Z

This was to be my fourteenth house move in twenty three years. I was expecting it to be the easiest yet – all the others had become gradually easier than the last, as I established a form of routine around packing, planning, and notifying people of my change of address. However, all did not go to plan.

Things started to go wrong very early on. I had no cardboard boxes readily available, as I had on the last few moves. This was because the last time I had moved house I swore I wouldn’t be moving on again for quite some time, and as I was living in a one bedroomed flat there wasn’t the storage space to keep a dozen big boxes – even folded down.

An afternoon spent going into every shop on the high street produced very little return. In all I managed to get my hands on about three small boxes and one or two medium sized ones.

I hadn’t realised when I began mentally sorting through all the things I needed to pack just how much ‘stuff’ I had acquired just since the last move. Even if I had got hold of a dozen big boxes, it wouldn’t have been enough.

My partner came over about three weeks before my moving in date to help me pack. In all honesty, he did most of the packing for me. I was exhausted for most of the time, and in pain the rest of it. My Myalgic Encephalopathy (a neuro-immuno disorder) had been steadily getting worse for months, and Christmas took more energy than I had to spare.

But together, with many trips back into town to the only shop that held on to their boxes after delivery day, we collected just enough boxes and bin bags to pack everything up, with only days to spare.

A couple of days before the move date, we decided it would be best to take apart my bedframe. The first two corners were easy, as was taking out the support slats but the other two corners wouldn’t budge for love nor money. Eventually they did come apart, but it was obvious that they would not go together again. And so the only option left was to get rid of the bedframe and buy a new one after I’d moved.

On 1^st March I moved out of my city centre flat, and into my boyfriend’s terraced house about twenty minutes from the shops.

The removals van came, along with three strong men, and with the help of a friend at each house, we began the process of loading all of my belongings onto the van.

After about twenty minutes, the lead man-with-the-van came up to me and said that their initial quote wouldn’t be accurate, and what I would be charged would be a lot more. Apparently there was a mix up on my details. On the phone I had said there would be twenty boxes and twenty bags, but the man in charge had written down ‘twenty boxes and bags’. This just proves that correct grammar can save money.

I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid that if I said I wouldn’t pay the hundred pound difference, that they would start to unpack my boxes and go away and I wouldn’t get moved. Grudgingly I agreed to pay, and silently thanked the Gods for my savings bank account.

The actual move only took around two hours – one at each end. And by 4pm the removals men had gone, and myself, my partner, and two friends tried to rearrange the furniture and boxes in the living room so that we could have a sit down and much needed coffee break.

We all then had a quick half hour moving all of the bedroom boxes upstairs to my new room (well, the others moved things whilst I had the job of supervisor), and clearing a bit of floor space so that my drum kit could fit somewhere behind the sofa without being damaged.

Once everyone had gone, myself and Johnathan got my bed sorted out (though of course this was just a mattress on the floor with my bedding on it) and then we sat down and breathed out.

A week later and all of the problems encountered were more or less forgotten. Life was steadily moving along at its own speed, and I was enjoying having company again. Sitting on the back step with a coffee on a sunny Thursday afternoon, I reflected that all the problems had been worth it, and life hadn’t gone back to normal – it was better than normal.

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Addiction prose

2012-03-24T19:08:11Z

My old flame is strangling me. What used to complete me is now tearing me apart. My core quivers… my mouth is unmoistened… my eyes roam but find no focus. My previous love is calling out to me, pulling at my sleeve or occasionally tripping me up.

Things were simple back then. I knew how I felt and it was a state of knowingly ignorant bliss. I saw my companion whenever I wanted and that happened to be daily. We would revel in one another’s oceans, always fighting against unseen currents. The days would fly by unseen. Flowers bloomed and withered before our unseeing eyes. We had only eyes for our mirrored selves – viewed from a reflection in each other’s eyes.

And then one day our paths diverted from the road we were travelling along. Alarm bells were sounding everywhere, and unseeing hands were trying to separate myself and my beloved.

Words were discreetly moved into our world. The world stopped turning, and all that seemed right became subtly altered until they then seemed wrong. I started to have second thoughts about the mutual addiction that passed for the relationship I was in.

One day I hit breaking point. I realised that my lover would eventually kill me. Most areas of my life had already been ruined seemingly beyond repair, and something important was now at stake.

It had to happen slowly, or else my love would suspect something and try to fight back. But slowly, ever so very slowly, the connection between the two of us started to weaken. And after a few months, it could have been a dream.

Two nights ago my world was turned upside down again. I had an encounter with my previous fan. And now, from the inside, I can feel the connection once more. But my will is not broken. This is a battle I must fight many times. And I know that I will win, even if right now my old flame is strangling me.

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Neon doesn't like me

2012-03-24T09:42:47Z

Just heard back from neon literary magazine, they felt my poems weren't quite right for their magazine unfortunately. (Don't have more feedback than that due to the large number of submissions they receive.)

But at least I've got the Mensa NoW thing going on :)

And because they won't be published this means I'm free to try submitting the poems to somewhere else... !

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Going to be published!

2012-03-23T19:55:12Z

So I'm going to be published in Mensa NoW magazine June issue :)

Here's the article for those who are interested:

( The Ambiguity of Aquaintances )

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Submissions

2012-03-17T12:12:17Z

This week I've submitted 8 poems to 2 magazines - The New Writer, and Neon Literary mags. Hopefully at least one of the poems will be published but as I've got to wait a few months I'm going to now try to forget about them...

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A Sonnet Of Caged Memories

2012-03-12T20:04:11Z

Sparking up before the air has a chance to clear
Memories and dreams merging like water on an oil slick
Thick smoke clouding eyes and smoke rings circling ears
Trying to disguise sins with a handful of joss sticks.
Candles burning on a wooden altar out of sight
Low murmurs muttered by half comatose guests
Thoughts creeping behind glazed eyes, then taking flight
Myself, a shadowy figure, introducing music without request.
Bare feet on table-tops, covered by ash and grime
Cafetieres empty, being explored by curious toes
A grandfather clock, threatening noise with a chime
Dominating the room where everyone has taken their repose.
Sunlight filling the room, signalling time for bed
The music stopped, the candle burnt out, all must rest their head.

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A bit of writing...

2012-03-06T18:25:58Z

There is a house, not on a deserted hill, but right there in your street. This house is full of negativity and it is devoid of love. It had inhabitants, but they were not people such as you and I would know. They looked quite normal from the outside, one tall, one small, one barely there. But once they were inside the house, they were transformed, as all who entered were, to shells of creatures.

Within the house nobody could thrive. All endeavours were doomed to failure. All hope dispelled. But for these broken creatures, the house was home. The gloom comforted their tortured souls, and as they wandered the landings and entered the almost bare rooms, they felt at ease.

One of them, it was hard to tell which one in the darkness (for only a tiny sliver of natural light crept through the newspapered up windows) was sitting on an undressed mattress, staring at their feet in the low yellow lighting.

Noises on the stairs meant one of his companions would soon be joining him. Eventually, all three of them would end up in this large dull room, sitting on the grimy mattress and staring at their feet.

Sometimes one of them would light a fire, but it would not be anything normal people would call a fire. It would be a small spark, and then a damp crackle as newspapers burnt through and left flame enough for anything they had managed to salvage that day for fuel.
And that was their life and how they lived it, for we don’t all have the same ideals…

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6 word story

2012-02-28T18:26:05Z

Moving out, moving in. Big change.

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Short story beginning/prose poem

2012-02-28T16:47:33Z

The clock is stopped at one minute past nine and in a timeless house, change is being observed by a mysterious Being. Two people were sat on a mattress on the floor, talking about the Being as they sensed it. One of the people, the slightly shorter one, felt an urgent need to write a poem; whilst the other person, the slightly older one, felt the urge to pick up a guitar. They both agreed it was a very inspirational house – that the energies there would inspire creativity and productivity.

Those two people sat up for half the night, talking about the house, the energies and the future. Their talk was filled with optimism, which seemed to be leaking through the walls and somehow entering their senses.

That night - the first night - the individuals lounged on the window sills, watching the amber car park, with only the street lights to illuminate the world. They were looking at the view as if it was the first time they had seen the world. Every little thing was suddenly an object of curiosity which they stared at intently. They saw the nightlife of the neighbouring animals – a cat complete with collar just perching on red brick wall, which looked black in the artificial lights; a bat flying a loop around the car park and then disappearing into the night sky, leaving no trace behind; and a small hedgehog, slowly making its way across the car park to the safety of the bushes at the entrance.

Sirens wailed as police cars got held up in the one way system of town, of which the house was in the centre. The inhabitants of the house all held their breath and listened to the siren call. It brought them a sense of peace, that even though all was not right with the world they were comforted and settled, and couldn’t quite explain why.

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