Where’s My Chicken Dinna?
I am, as they say in the biznass, a little verklempt. And don’t bother asking me what biznass because even I don’t know where this shit comes from. Although I do know a little bit about biznass time. But that’s another post for another time. If you’re lucky. Or maybe if I am?
Anywhohow, I am the Trifecta winna. Again. Y’all I have been a writer all my life, but somewhere along the way between the drugs, the depression and life I forgot that I was. That I am. And along came a cute, little gal(okay, more like a motherfucking badass WHOAman)who writes shit that takes me places I never knew I always wanted to go and makes words fly and bend to her will(which is immense and can control you). She makes art that is not bullshit or pretentious in the least. If you’re not reading her blog, I’ll forgive you. But only this once, because now you know. Fool me twice, you’re dead to me. Okay, not dead. But possibly fatally wounded.
So then this badass WHOAman goes and starts a weekly writing challenge. Trifecta. And I wrote for it because I love her and because I’m badass when it comes to supporting mah friends. And something happened. Words flowed. They aligned themselves in the proper order. And they won. Twice. Now, I’m about to tell you something and you’re gonna call bullshit. Maybe even shenanigans. But truth, yo. Although it feels great to win, to have someone believe that something I did ruled it feels even better just to be writing again. For whatever it’s worth, in the here and for right now, I have a tiny corner of belief ripped through my insecurity blanket.
And YOU can have that too. Take the Trifecta Challenge. This week’s word is poisonous. Make sure you read the instructions so you’re awesome response will be counted. Only you have your words and I want to read them. C’mon y’all, write hard.