M.C. Frank's Blog, page 95
June 10, 2021
So You Want To Be A Writerif it doesn’t come bursting out...
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.
don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
-Charles Bukowski
Bluebirdthere’s a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get...
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?
This was published in Bukowski’s book “The Last Night of the Earth Poems” circa 1992
there is a loneliness in this world so greatthat you can see it...
there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.
people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.
people just are not good to each other
one on one.
the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.
it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.
or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.
Charles Bukowski,
please forgive this blogwhile it becomes an unpublishedBukowski...
please forgive this blog
while it becomes an unpublished
Bukowski poetry anthology for a few days
June 9, 2021
Are real people as kind as you characters? I mean, it's not just yours, other fictional people are like that too, but what do YOU say? Are you guys actually like that on the inside?
today i got a coffee on my lunch break and a man had his daughter on his hip and two coffees in his hands and he held the door open for me anyway
i went to go pick up a skirt that was being held for me and the employee said to me “uhg, i’m so tired, the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet” and i said “your hair is so beautiful” because it was long and red and shiny and had blown out curls and she perked up and said “thanks! it’s to distract from the fact that i didn’t put on makeup this morning”
i was driving home and i realized i was in the wrong lane and i needed to move over and a car slowed down so i could merge in front of them
that was just today
whether or not you think people are kind is a sort of confirmation bias, i think
if you go through life expecting people to be terrible, that’s what you’ll remember, that’s what you’ll focus on
but if you go through life looking for kindness, that’s what you’ll find
overtip your waiters. let the car go in ahead of you. smile at the homeless person and give them your spare change. compliment people.
you yourself are likely never more than one rushed morning away from a bad mood, one missed paycheck away from suffering, one accident away from ruin
you are probably not a politician or a ceo or a god. you cannot remake the world in your own image
but you can make other people’s lives easier and softer in small, effortless ways that cost you nothing. you can be the silver lining not just for your friends and family but for hundreds of thousands of strangers you haven’t even met yet. life is nothing but one opportunity after another to both show and be shown kindness
life can be cruel. people can be terrible.
but the simplest way to increase the number of kind people in the world is to be one
June 6, 2021
dualiger:Θα ‘θελα να 'μαι χαρούμενη -λέειΌλη μέρα ψάχνω να βρώ κάτι για να χαρώ.Συχνά δε...
Θα ‘θελα να 'μαι χαρούμενη -λέει
Όλη μέρα ψάχνω να βρώ κάτι για να χαρώ.
Συχνά δε βρίσκω.
Τότε τα ρούχα μου πέφτουν από πάνω μου,
μένω πιασμένη μαλακά μες στο κενό,
περιμένοντας κάποιος να με αγαπήσει
και να υπάρξω.
Πριν φυσήσει ελάχιστη αύρα την αισθάνομαι να τρέμει στα νύχια των ποδιών μου.
Κι άξαφνα, ένα μονάχα νήμα αράχνης αιωρούμενο μου σκίζει από πάνω εως κάτω το μάγουλο.
Γιάννης Ρίτσος, Μικρή εξομολόγηση
June 4, 2021
Fun ways for characters to be wrong
-Being intentionally mislead
-Naively thinking something won’t be that bad
-Ignoring facts so they don’t have to change their opinions
-Assuming something will always be the same
-Putting too much trust in something or someone
-Assuming everybody else holds a certain belief
-Assuming everybody else acts a certain way
-Not knowing all the facts and extrapolating
May 28, 2021
Welcome to my first ever #repsearch 📚
Calling all...
Welcome to my first ever #repsearch 📚
Calling all #bookstagrammers
I am looking for a few bookish people that would be interested in becoming Instagram ambassadors for my books.
The main books you will be receiving are:
📚The Outlaws series - Robin Hood retelling
📚The Regency Retold series - Regency fairytale retellings
and
📚The Broken Idols series - New Adult Billionaire romance inspired by Jane Austen
What it means:
- You will receive 1 or 2 paperbacks of your choice from me. You will be expected to talk about the books, post pictures of them, and generally lead new readers to the series through Instagram. 2 or 3 posts per month.
- If you are good at this and enjoy it, you may be invited to receive paperbacks of new releases and exclusive swag like candles, notebooks, bookmarks and art prints.
(I have about a million books out, and a million more planned, so we’ll never run out of those).
-This repsearch is INTERNATIONAL, but your account must be primarily in English, as my books are written in English and are geared towards an English-reading audience.
To enter:
1. Screenshot this photo and create a collage with this picture and 3-4 others that you feel show off your instagram style and reading tastes the best. Post it on your feed. Here is what the caption should include:
2. the hashtag: #mcfrankauthor
3. Talk about yourself, where you live, and why you want to be an Instagram ambassador for me. Please chek the link in my bio and look at my books, so that you can tell me why you think they will be a good fit for you and your account. Without this step, it will be impossible for me to consider you and I will be sad.
-Open internationally. Will last through June (not sure if there wil be any interest haha). New reps will be announced two weeks after this post closes.
All my love and thanks,
M.C. Frank
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#instagramambassador #mcfrankauthor #bookstagram #callingallreaders #readergram #readersofig #readerlife #amreading #bookcommunity #bookrep #paperbackbooks #bookbloggers#readersofinsta
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May 27, 2021
Leave a ❤️ if you have ever done this.
Sometimes I think...
Leave a ❤️ if you have ever done this.
Sometimes I think that’s what writing is: Creating the worlds you should be living in, slaying the dragons that can’t be slain, and helping others through the pain that no one helped me heal.
This is definitely what I have found while reading the books of other authors.
I hope someone finds it in my books as well.
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Sign up for M.C. Frank’s author newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cMExwX
Author website: http://www.mcfrankauthor.com
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#writer #quotes
#writersofig
#instapoet #writers #lovequotes
#instaquote #writerscommunity
#poetsofinstagram
#poetryisnotdead
#writersofinstagram
#poem #poet #writing
#words #poems #micropoetry
#donatartt
#wordporn #poetsofig
#darkacademia #writingcommunity
#quoteoftheday #instapoetry
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Robin Hood WIP diaries (5) - the rescue (teaser)
Hello, friends, I recently surpassed 25K words on my Robin Hood WIP (halfway there for my monthly goal of 50K yaaay). To celebrate, I want to share a little snippet from a scene that I’ve dubbed “the rescue” in my outline. It’s one of the earliest scenes in the book, and one of my favorites. Enjoy!
T H E R E S C U EThe applause lasted FOR less than a full minute. As soon as it died down, the Sheriff motioned to his deputy, Sir Guy of Gisborne, a large, muscular soldier with a thin, withered face that was too old for his five and thirty years. Unceremoniously, Sir Guy took a step forward and lifted a blue flag. Fixing the hangman with his gaze, he dropped it.
It all happened so fast, Robin had barely time to react.
John wrenched free with a war cry, and flung himself into the crowd’s writhing body. Robin started pushing and shoving people out of his way, careless as to who would see him. He ran towards John, towards the children, towards the noose. But still, he was too late. There was no vantage point where he could stand and take aim, and everywhere he looked, there were people’s heads and hats in the way, between the children and his bow.
The hangman lifted the rod and pushed the stools out of the way. Shrieks filled the night sky, as the hanging children started dangling, their little feet kicking thin air. Robin couldn’t look away. He practically climbed over a thick man’s back in his rush to get to them, but he was still too bloody far away.
“Nooo!” John’s voice tore through the night like a wounded animal’s.
Robin thought he’d be sick, right there, on the town square cobblestones.
And then.
The zing of an arrow.
In all his nineteen years, Robin hadn’t heard a more blessed sound.
His eyes snapped to the source of the sound, just in time to see an arrow fly, straight and true, right through the crowd, headed for the rope. The archer must have chosen a vantage point to shoot it from, for it came downwards, as if it was shot from a higher place –one that Robin should have found by now, but hadn’t. The arrow sliced the hanging rope in two, freeing John’s little girl, who hit the chopping block’s ground like a sack of apples. Before anyone had time to blink, another arrow sliced the air, going straight for the second noose, setting the boy free as he was starting to struggle and choke.
Robin’s eyes gleamed in approval at the unseen archer’s impeccable aim.
He couldn’t see who it was had sent the arrows flying so quickly in succession to each other, for immediately the archer must have been seized. There would be no opportunity to shoot any more. He, Robin, along with the rest of the crowd, craned his neck, but it was obvious the archer was well-hidden above them, amid the branches of a tree or even on the castle buttresses, impossible as that seemed, and so it was impossible to see him.
Before one moment had passed, pandemonium broke loose. The Sherriff’s guards scrambled to detain the children, who were quickly on their feet and struggling with all their strength to free themselves from their binds, and the crowds were screaming in fear and panic. If there was even a perfect time to step in, unnoticed, it was now; Robin had had enough of this masquerade.
“Stay back,” he ordered his men in a low voice, pulling the hood lower over his face. He stood about a head taller than most of the men in the crowd, but right now, amid all the confusion and darkness, he wasn’t worried anyone would notice him. Maybe they would even manage to escape the Sheriff’s greedy claws, for at the first zing of the unknown archer’s arrow, he’d fled inside his castle, followed by his trusted deputy and personal guards. “Bows and swords at the ready, I’ll need you.”
Four heads bowed in agreement, and with a bound, he was off.
He leaped easily from spot to spot, evading people, until he found himself near the hangman’s block. He kept the children’s small forms in his eye line as he was moving, never taking his eyes off them for a minute, careful not to lose sight of them, and grit his teeth when he saw the massive back of a soldier lifting them both, one in each arm, and preparing to get away with them.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, and started running.
…
Once more, he was too late. The man bore the two children as easily as if they weighed no more than two sacks of flour, and ducked among the crowd, the gleam of his mail disappearing in the darkness that enveloped him as soon as he stepped off the block. All was lost.
But, just as Robin was on the cusp of following blindly, most probably right into the Castle’s stronghold, someone else appeared in front of the tall guard.
Right in front of him a slight form which looked like it belonged to a child, slid through the crowds, almost invisible. He seemed to drop from above, as though he’d been perched on top of a tree overhead. But Robin noticed, inspite of being shoved and pushed by running countrymen and women from all sides, as his senses were sharpened by fear and fury. The boy’s dark form ran for the hanging block, and suddenly Robin realized that if, by some strange miracle, the boy had been the one shooting the arrows, it made perfect sense for him to drop from the skies like a sort of malnourished avenging angel.
Robin watched in amazement as the youth gave a leap with his spindly legs, landing right on top of the hangman’s block, and with one fell swoop, grabbed one of the children’s feet. The soldier who was carrying the child stopped in his tracks. He turned around, his face a mask of malice, and Robin’s expression turned to one of horror.
He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, once.
Within seconds, he was flagged by two men on each side, Tuck and Will. John was already walking up to the block, Alice on his heels.
“To the boy!” Robin commanded. Will and Tuck ran.
© 2017, M.C. Frank
more coming soon!
Read the rest of the Robin Hood dWIP diaries at my blog.
Duuuuude! I need more! 😍
More is comingggggg
Read all the Robin Hood WIP diaries here
I love this! Can’t wait to read more!! <33
