(This is the official site of author Tarah L. Wolff - click here to see my books)

Checking up on Bridget

I asked her, "Where is your heart?" and she pointed to a corner of her kitchen and said, "It's there - I figure another week might be enough." And it was there, in a splatter of bright red blood on the black and white linoleum. It was nearly ripped in two and every time it beat the two folds fluttered like a coughing sea creature on dry land. >> keep reading


This is all about You

You learned long ago that any choice you made would not be touched by another person's hand in your life; regrets then only fall on your own self, and that is good, for there is never, and never will be, anyone else to blame. Be alone in this as it is the simplest truth and the hardest truth. No one else is to blame. Do not let them sway your >> keep reading


Embraced by Darkness

So, I have finally finished and released my first book. Life is good accordingly . . . Wow, I have never spent so many hours on something in my entire life to be rewarded with so little. No, I'm not complaining, but I will warn all self published writers from here on out that just the process of trying to get out press releases >> keep reading


Embraced by Darkness, The Death of Eliana, This Is All About Me

I always think of a movie I love when November hits called “V for Vendetta” and it is: “Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot.” I loved the movie but that’s not why the quote stuck with me. The quote is about a man who attempted to blow up parliament (in a world where parliament really did need blowing up as the dictatorship therein was nazi-like) but was foiled and he did not accomplish his goal. I do not remember this quote because I believe the government needs changing or destroying (though these days maybe  I should… as we do have that fiscal cliff approaching…) I remember it because its my metaphor for finishing a book, or starting a book, or getting to writing at all and how often we are foiled and how often it does seem we are fighting our own personal war.

November is a writing month, so much so that NANOWRIMO was even invented. Many of my writing friends have rushed to their computers and commenced the plot to win the war to 50,000 words. Many of them finished, many of them didn’t, but I do believe that they all felt that November, writing feverishly, was worth it despite any sacrifices they had to make along the way. They won the war by just getting through November and TRYING their damndest to reach 50,000 words. And that does seem to be the flat out truth when it comes to writing.

I always thought that to win the war in writing you had to finish a book, get it published, move on to the next one etc. etc. etc. Make a living off of this, become rich and famous, GET PUBLISHED. What I didn’t know at that time was that I would never be wholly satisfied with any completed book project, that I might “win” the war to completion but never really feel that I won any of the battles along the way, or even the one I’m fighting right now which is just to get my ass back to writing. And that’s the end of the story: plot to write and write. That must be all that we need to feel we’ve won this battle to becoming a writer. Just write. Every day. Hold a finished book in your hand and understand that the satisfaction in just that must be all that we can hope for as writers.

I haven’t worked on my sequel in a whole long while, been thinking about it (I am a writer after all) and trying to get back to it. I am supremely daunted. My sequel is not a basic one character, 1st person, end to end kind of deally-bob. No, my sequel is a brutal, complicated, war-mongered, ravaged, multiple character, set in a fracturing fantasy world where even I get the species’ mixed up sometimes, kind of bastard book. Going back to this is not a situation of sitting down and getting myself to write. No, going back is going to be an organizational nightmare where I am always fearing I forgot or missed something along the way. Now I would not be in this situation if I hadn’t stood up a few months ago and never came back so, I can’t really gripe, this is my own fault and no amount of note keeping or attendance I could have made back then would have even really helped me now. No, I am going to need to go back, read through the 40 or so thousand words that are there, take notes along the way and pray all my lightbulbs for this book haven’t gone out entirely. Sighs.

I did have an enlightened thought the other day, however, and it gives me hope that my sweat shop gals that work on my writing projects (way way down deep in my head) haven’t died of starvation yet. They piped up yesterday that when I re-write my novel The Death of Eliana, it shouldn’t be in 3rd person but it absolutely MUST be written in 1st person. Wow, what a thought! All this time I thought I was never going to be a good enough writer to re-write Eliana in 3rd person when it turns out that its not meant to written in 3rd at all! Huh, who knew! Too bad those sweat shop gals aren’t working on my sequel to Embraced by Darkness (the book I’m trying to get back too, I guess they’re as daunted by it as I am) but at least they’re working on something.

I even wrote a poem the other day:


Everything fell off the edge of my bed tonight
into the dimscape of my bedroom
time was one of those things for me
though it kept running down your fingers
strip me please
I want that place on your chest in the center of my
bed I want my burns to stop aching to stop
being rubbed by time
I’m not used to not being the fire but I’ve never
been burned before so I thought it was you
that I was the one playing with it but
I think the fire is here in the middle
with me avoiding time and you doing… whatever the
hell it is that you think you do
to me

Everything fell off the edge of my bed tonight
into the dimscape of my bedroom
we floated as skin and human
me against your chest sweating and burning
all consumed and I wonder if you heard it
if you felt it if your heart pounded
as hard as mine if time slipped like it did
for me or if it was just my bones you felt
under my skin
just bones and wet flesh just you enjoying
my reaction to you

Everything fell off the edge of my bed tonight
into the dimscape of my bedroom
I feel the words that are in me
I can hear them like a song I haven’t
yet met (that I already know by heart)
but your fingers – painting time over the spread
of me – steals my words and they are smoke
featureless and drifting off the edge of my bed
along with everything else and anything that
ever mattered to me fair enough
I would have only asked for more when there is
none left

Everything fell off the edge of my bed tonight
into the dimscape of my bedroom

Newest from Tarah L. Wolff

Embraced by Darkness


Available now in paperback and on the Kindle

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