My Latest Creative Venture

I’ve been really harsh with myself recently. I mean, its nothing new but, more specifically with my writing.

When my poetry book was published I was excited but I kept telling myself, ‘there’s still so much to do, this isn’t the BIG project, this isn’t THE thing.’ Everyone has been so supportive and telling me how proud they are, it’s been incredible. However, there is a group of people who have been asking, “hey is this the project you were working on last year? It’s been published already?!”

Then I explain, no – the poetry book was something I did on the side, a mini challenge for myself. The project I started last year, that I’d been holding off on for years, is my memoir! It started off as a book of short stories based on my experiences, but as it started coming together and I sent pages to my book coach, we realized that this was going into the Memoir Genre.

Within 3 months I wrote about 35,000 words. I was SO proud. I printed off my first draft and cried. I did it!

Then I put it away and didn’t look at it again for almost 7 months.

When I did pick it up again, it was after completing a writer’s bootcamp where I learned about writers resistance and writers with ADHD, just like me, who procrastinate like it’s our job.

Since then, I’ve been working on my second draft and revising, editing and adding to the word count. Only need about 20,000 more to reach my goal.

I’ve been researching agents and publishing houses, locally, within Canada and the U.S. I really want to go the traditional route with this book, even though it’ll be a long process, although my process for my poetry book was more of a hybrid path.

My writing group has been a lifesaver for me. Without their daily encouragement and support, who knows when this Work-In-Progress would come to life.

What an exciting journey I am on. And I’m so thrilled that you are here with me as I travel up this road!


Beautiful Fear

July 11, 2018

Another writer from my workshop group told me she hated public speaking but promised her husband she would face her fear. She said, “you have to do it, Taneet!” And so we both wrote our names on the list.

Photo courtesy of Humber College (Lakeshore Campus)

So here I was, hair clinging to my forehead and neck with perspiration, heart pounding, pulse racing, hands shaking. I read a poem I had written at 3am several years prior.

And the words danced out of my mouth delicately, pirouetting en detours, completing a grand jeté before the timer rang. I kept my head down as I absorbed the applause, into my pores, into my veins, shocked that I shared dark words from my heart with award winning/critically acclaimed authors, my living inspirations.

Regardless of how shit scared I was, my words had a voice of their own that did not falter or tremble the way my fingers did. They were not just destined to be spoken. They were determined.



Dark Dreams

Wish wish wish
Dream dream dream

But stuck in a cruel reality.

Real real real
But it feels like a reel
That’s played in the theatre
So is it really real or is it surreal
What truly is the deal
And who is truly spinning the wheel
Determining our fates
Making time a race
Or maybe erase
My face
From the mirror
So that its never clear
Or it could be the tears
Streaming, flowing, running
Out of my soul
Out of control
Defining my role
Prisoner to my mind
Victim to my crimes
Can’t cross the boundary line
Because its not mine
And never will be.

Wishing and dreaming and thinking and loving and hoping
Trapping taneet
She’s helpless and hopeless
No fight no strength
Look at her
Laugh at her
Struggling, crying, dying slowly
Watch her
Follow her
Running, hiding, dying slowly
Its a dead end
My end
At the end of the road
At the end of the rope
Boxed in
Caged in
Like an animal
To my own heart
Strings like a puppet
I’m not myself
I look up to see who is responsible
The hand pushing my head in the water
Drowning me
Killing me
I’m looking
Why are they doing this
I see the tainted hand
I see the murderer
Its me
Looking down at me
Lips curled up
Crimson like the devil
l i v e d
D i e
V e i l
L i e
E v i l
Think about it
Taste it
Try it on for size
It doesn’t fit
The light is not lit
The shit did not hit
The fan
I ran but she caught me
Drowned me and forgot me
Left me there to rot me
Shot me
The bullet screams my name
The blood brings me to shame
The chase was all a game
It won’t work
Won’t make it better
Just write a letter
Since that’s all you know
Pathetic, never grow
Your sorrow is a show
That no one wants to watch
A blotch on a paper
The words don’t make sense
Try, but its dense
Spilled ink
Just think
Black streaks all down my face
Spilled ink spilled guts
Words everywhere
Is fear
Black blood
Drowning myself
The paper is wet
Boiling brain
Draining me
Murderous, vicious
Take in the pain
Cry it out through the rain
In vain
Pulsing veins
Throbbing, beating, racing.

Open your eyes
Up from your demise
Do it for them
Do it again and again
The game doesn’t end
Your heart will never mend
No friends
Just a paper and a pen
Do it again and again.