I am...

“I am...”

            I am not a schizophrenic. The voices in my head aren’t just anonymous, monotone voices. They have full names, extensive, complicated backstories, and complex opinions. Not all are human. Ivy is a werewolf with green eyes, Rosemarie is a fae-being with pink hair and yellow skin. Callum is probably the only one who is completely human.  There are dozens of voices, possibly hundreds- like some sort of unorganized mass of voices and stories. Some who have been around for years, a constant companion with me. Others have not yet earned their names, or learned their life story yet, and rather lurk in the shadowy corners of my mind. I talk to them, and they usually talk back. But the one thing they have in common? I created them. Crafted each individually in my dreams and subconscious, a collage of people I know and people i have never met. I am not crazy. Even though I have worlds ready to spill from the tip of my pen. Constantly creating symbolism and mythology for a land in another dimension. I am not a schizophrenic. I am a writer. (And that is crazy enough.)

Intensity

Friday July 5th 2013

Sewanee Young Writers Conference

Intensity

by Julia Debski

It was not musical tunes that passed through her head, but rather a melody quite unique to a writer, and to the woman on the bed. The hum of stories, worlds, and dramas rose and sunk in her mind, creating a song unique to herself.

The water shut off and soon she was no longer alone in the room, apart from the company of voices in her head and outside the window.

“Oh River, I wish you would get up. It’s almost noon, and lunch will be served.” Amanda said before dropping the towel and walking the length of the room to the dresser. River turned her head an increment of a degree to watch the goosebumps rise on the other woman’s skin. She continued to stare with a seemingly blank stare as silk slipped and curled over the ribs and thighs, wrapped up from the cold. 

“What do you think? Is this alright?” Amanda spun once, for her dress to twirl around her once. Like the ballerina she once was as a child. River’s lips slipped into a small satisfied smile. She loved that dress. It always quieted the voices gushing in her mind. As if they were as in awe of Amanda as River was. Slowly, River’s eyes drifted back up to the ceiling.

On the other side of the room, gentle clicks of lipsticks and mascaras being opened was heard. River’s dearest character hushed the others before voicing her hope for Amanda to wear her dark red lipstick, the color of over ripe cherries. The one that made her skin look pale and soft, and her green eyes dazzle. That was why this one was her favorite. It was much like River, in a sense.

Preoccupied with a discussion occurring between two creatures in their little world, River did not hear the gentle pat of bare feet approaching. Lips upon hers woke River from the trance. She hadn’t realized her eyes had fallen shut. A lazy smile bloomed on her lips, causing Amanda to pull away, amused. River cracked an eye open, and her breath caught. She raised a finger slowly to hover before her lover’s lips. Asking for permission. Amanda smiled and gave her a small nod. The finger landed on the left corner of her bottom lip, gentle. Careful not to mar the heavy color. Then it ran along the length, before traveling back again along the top one. Faded slightly now, but not noticeable. River returned the finger to her own mouth and rubbed the cherry red traces on her own lips. Then she raised herself slightly to capture Amanda’s lips between her teeth, feeling a different type of goosebumps rise on her skin at the thought of the color staining her teeth. 

Dead Before Life

July 4th 2013
Sewanee Young Writers Conference

Dead Before Life

by Julia Debski

Day in, day out,

write

Be good, be great, be the best

Don’t eat, don’t sleep,

write

Ideas flood by

Drowning the pen and paper

No sleep, it’s for the weak,

write

Click clack of keys

The children of others being born

Nothing of my own

It was washed away with

The tide

Laugh, cry

Hands shake,

write

Breath life into something that

Does not yet exist

A stillborn baby 

Presented to the world 4 months too early.

Leave It

July 1st 2013

Sewanee Young Writers Conference

Leave It

by Julia Debski

Alice sits in an armchair, hunched over in a dark room. The black curtains are drawn over the windows, letting no light in. Audience can’t see her face. It’s quiet- no music, no animals, no noise from outside. Then a small clock chimes somewhere in the dark.

Alice Oh shut up with that noise! I heard enough of it already.

Clock continues to chime. Alice turns and throws a glass at the clock. It smashes, and the chiming stops. The audience can now see her face- pale, and set in a frown. Haunted.

Alice  I swear to God, if I have one more interruption...

There is a knock at the door. Alice looks like she is considering throwing something at the door as well.

Alice Don’t come in! That’s what the sign on the door is for- stay out!

Betty (offstage) Oh honestly, you are ridiculous. You open this door this instant. We are going sort you out.

Alice I don’t want to be sorted out, damn it!

Betty picks the lock to Alice’s door and enters.

Alice Oh shit, how’d it open? Doesn’t matter. Get out, out! Leave me alone.

Betty No. You can’t just stay in this room for the rest of eternity, that’s insane. You need to get your life started again. 

Alice I’m perfectly happy in here, really. 

Betty You call living in the dark and isolation being happy? Come on, we both know you are far from happy.

Alice I am happy!

Betty You are not!

Alice So what should I do to become happy?

Betty (hesitant) Well you could...

Alice Spit it out!

Betty You could get a job.

Alice Hell no. Absolutely not. No way.

Betty You need to get your life up and running again, and you need money to do that. To go see movies, go out and eat, buy things. You need a job.

Alice (becoming angry) I don’t want to start my life again. Why should I? I don’t want to do any of those things.

Betty You’ve always been such a pessimist.You can’t live your life out in here. Eventually, the money you have saved for the rent will run out. You will need to step outside this room eventually. Come on, we’ll do it together.

Betty moves forward quickly and grabs Alice’s arm, dragging her out of the arm chair and towards the door. Taken by surprise, Alice doesn’t manage to fight back at first. They struggle for a moment before Alice breaks free.

Alice What the hell? Get off me! Don’t touch me! (pause) How can I make myself clear? I don’t want to go out there, I can’t go out there. How can I go out there and live my life when I can never escape what happened? That town, they don’t want me. I’m dirty to them.

Betty You are not dirty. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t let what happened, and what a few people say affect your life. Otherwise you are letting him win. 

Alice Him. We can’t even say his name. He has won. He took what he wanted and left me behind a building. No matter what, I’m better off here.

Betty Oh dear...

Betty moves forward to hug Alice. Alice quickly steps away, holding her hands in front of her in defense. She trips over something, not being able to see it in the dark.

Alice I don’t want a job. 

Betty Okay, so you don’t want a job. But you have to at least start getting out more.

Alice Why?

Betty Because you are stronger than this. I know you. We’ll do it together, one step at a time.

Hair

June 30th 2013

Sewanee Young Writers Conference

Hair

A Play

Oliver: It’s brown, because it’s leather. A really old-like fancy leather book. No bigger than my hand when it’s spread out. Like this, see? From the tips of my fingers to the palm. No, no, it wouldn’t be like your hand. Too small. It smells kind of funny as well, cause its so old. It was made a long time ago. Hundreds of years old. That’s why the pages are all yellowed and faded. It’s really important I find it. I need it.

Aunt Celine: Why on earth would you want such an awful little book? It was terribly smelly, I made sure it was one of the first things to go. You really mustn't worry about such petty things as little books, Oliver. It isn’t wise.

Oliver: No, no, NO! You don’t understand, you don’t get it! I need it Aunt Celine! It is very important. You have no idea. None! Oh no, no, no. What did you do with it? Where did it go? I need to know now. Oh god, look now my hair is falling out. That’s how important it is to me, Aunt Celine. My hair is coming out in my hands! Well that’s just disgusting. Oh god, oh no! Where is my book? I need it. Do you understand? Need it. What’s this? Why is my face wet? Are these tears? I’m crying, aren’t I? Oh god, my little leather book. What will I do without it? Nothing, simply nothing! Wanna know why? Huh, do you? Is that blood? My nose is bleeding, Aunt Celine! Look what you’ve done to me. This is why I need my little book. Wanna know why  it’s so important? I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s caught in my throat. What is it, Aunt Celine, it’s blocking my throat. I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! You wanna know why it’s so important?

If My Writing Was A Place

July 1st 2013
Sewanee Young Writers Conference

If my writing was a place...

The sunset highlights the outline of the trees, making it far more dramatic. Creatures not native to this land, this planet emerge and wander. They chatter and meet, discussing through their language barriers. Everywhere I turn is something new and strange and wierd and wonderful. Some animals glow, others have scales, or feathers longer than my arm. The sun is still setting, never quite making it behind the horizon and keeping us, and the forest, from plunging into the night.

 Magic is alive here, walks amongst the trees, dressed in robes and cloaks. It smiles or glares, to each their own. The not-quite shadows shelter things from view, things we know are there yet don't want to see- death, inequality, prejudice, anger, hatred. Walk too close and it will grab you around the ankle and drag you into the shadows. I still sport a handprint scar on my ankle.

The sun will never set, leaving just enough light for life to continue and magic to thrive. Nor will it ever fully rise, never to chase away the shadow things or release the darkness of the forest.

Absence Explained

I apologize for my absence. Shortly after my most recent post, we were in France for a week, where I did not have my computer. Afterwards we spent a long weekend in Devon, without computer once again. Since then, I have not had a moment's rest and have been barely able to access my computer.

But I will begin to post more about what we have been doing for the last few weeks in a series of posts, staggered over a period of time.

Maybe a post a day? :)

Cheers,
Julia

Quick Update on Our Travels

Cousins @ the Family Party

Sunset in Cambridge

Cambridge

Cambridge- original Tudor house

Cambridge

Buckingham Palace

Entrance towards Trafalgar Square

Now we are off to France!

-Julia

Hampton Court & Ghosts!

Not quite as imposing as Henry VIII, but still...

Today we visited Hampton Court, home to King Henry the 8th and then many of the Stuart rulers (William and Mary, etc...)

It was, simply, bloody freezing. Coming from 80-degree weather to rainy weather with nearly a 40 degree difference is quite a shock to the system. I made the silly mistake of wearing sandals. My toes have still not fully recovered.

Hampton Court is actually quite an enchanting castle, despite the dreary rain of today. In addition, there are GHOSTS, which naturally feeds my creative curiousity. I've come to terms with the fact that regular fiction will not be enough for me- I much rather prefer the supernatural. Mythology, lore, witchcraft, and hauntings are quite my cup of tea.

Jane Seymour

 So naturally, learning how Jane Seymour (Wife #3) wanders the hall above the chapel in which her heart, and possibly some of her other organs are buried is quite intriguing. It is said that the reason she is still here, caught between death and heaven, is because of the extremely guilty conscience over her role in the downfall of Anne Boleyn. She won't be at peace until Anne forgives her, which for obvious reasons, will never happen.

Catherine Howard

Or what about Catherine Howard (Wife #5) seen rushing through the Great Hall to the chapel where she stops suddenly and lets out an unearthly shriek before hurrying back towards the top of the stairs with a ghastly look of despair. Legend has it that on the night after she was arrested for treason, she ran shrieking down the gallery while Henry was hearing Vespers in the Holyday Closet. She begged him to spare her life but was caught by the guards who dragged her away to her execution. So it is a thought that this is a reinacting of the tragic scene right before her untimely death.

Anne Boleyn

Lastly, there is dear Anne Boleyn (#2), who is said to wander around Hampton Court, but not quite like the others. It is said that she appears beheaded in her appearances around her old home.

There are also another 7 ghosts that wander Hampton Court, including a phantom dog and a ghostly cat. Exciting!!

As an afterthought, it is a good thing King Henry the 8th didn't turn out to be a ghost. I think as he was so imposing and terrifying in life, as a ghost he would scare people to death!

Cheers!
Julia

Snippets and Clips

Quick little post for today, as I've decided to revive the blog. (I'm really bad at this, aren't I?)

Some things that have happened recently? Well, first of all...we are going to Europe!! And for being-a-lovely-person-who-loves-her-teachers, I'll be posting some photos on here while we are over there!! Exciting! 

We plan to do a lot. I have some places I want to visit as research for one of my novel ideas (The Royal Mews Girl, I believe I've mentioned it before.) So several museums which include things from the Victorian Era are on my list. We are also planning on heading down south to Devon, with a stop by Stonehenge. (Time to start the apocalypse!)

Also, we will be seeing family. That is probably the one thing I am most excited about. Not only because of the family tree, but also I haven't seen most of them in ages. Plus they inspired a novel idea!

Saintes, France

Then we are also going to be in France, in the town where we lived. That photo above? That will be my view every day. :) 

Something I hesitate to share on here is my growing interest in learning more about sexuality and researching it. As it is something close to my heart, (12 states and just over 13 countries to legalize gay marriage!) I find it a very fascinating topic. I have found a few people who have published work about it and I plan to read more about it. We'll see where it takes me.

(Let's not even talk about the new interest in drag queens, okay?)

Also, I've decided to make The Hazel Tree (aka Cinderella Wolf) part of my Capstone project, so talk about deadlines! Mr. Wilkey, my mentor, has been amazing though so it doesnt seem like quite such a daunting task. It still is though.....I'm just not looking at it directly in the eye. It's going to be fun though...right?

Here is the new cover!

Also, if you guys are interested, here is the link to my new Facebook page. All the cool writers have one now. Click here. It will have snippets of the chapters I write, not only for The Hazel Tree but also for other novels. Also, it will have information as to when The Hazel Tree will be available to buy and where, etc...etc.. :)

Cheers!

Julia