Performance Anxiety

I’m sorry it has been so long since my last post! I have recently moved into a new apartment and it threw off my routine completely. Between cleaning, planting veggies in my garden, visiting family and work, I have had little time to write or respond to comments…

But enough excuses! Here is a long awaited piece of poetry.

Performance Anxiety

Looking forward,
Pressing on,
Sating thirsty souls.

Undue tempers,
Pieced together,
Framing my aplomb.

I have but little else to say,
I have possessed the whole.
Despite the nature of the game,
I’ve learnt to strike the chord.

Playing with the devil’s flame,
Writing from the heart.
Breathing naught but effigies,
Seeing naught but forms.

Today is spent with baited breath,
Tomorrow knows suspense.
Even as the hour grows cold,
All new ideas lent.

Could the worry,
Justify,
The nerves exposed to you.

Or does the apple,
Withering,
Upon the branch confuse.

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My First Rejection

The title of this post is not entirely true.  I have been rejected in love, several times.  I have been passed up for sports teams, I have failed midterms and lost the respect of colleagues.  I have even ruined a few friendships.

But as far as my writing goes, this was the first time I had ever submitted a piece of mine to a legitimate publication.  And I was rejected on a technicality.  It seems that they do not consider any work that has been previously published on a personal blog.  According to the editor this is a common rule held by almost all publications.  They want first rights for the printed material.

This is kind of bad news for you guys, because it means that from now on I can’t post my stories on this blog if I want to submit them, so all the really good stuff will have to stay hidden from your eyes.  It is also bad news for me, because it means that my Tracking the Wind story is no longer submitable.

Anyway, I am not too discouraged.  I guess I will just have to keep trying with other stories.

My First Submission

Today I made my first submission to a magazine.  I decided to enter my short story, Tracking the Wind, to the Hugo Award winning online Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine, ClarkesWorld Magazine. I should find out in a week or so if it was accepted or not. I am a little nervous as I have never done anything like this before.  Hopefully they will give me some sort of appraisal other than just “yay” or “nay”, but I doubt that is how this works.  I will keep you all informed of my progress. Wish me luck!

To read my first draft version of Tracking the Wind, please follow the links below:

Tracking the Wind – Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Who am I?

Tristan

Currently I am no one.

This is an experiment; a time to play and see where life can take me.  I like to write and so I have decided to do so. Seriously for once.  Enough talking.  I have done lots of that in the past.  For now, I will write.

I currently work in a fine dining restaurant, carrying heavy plates of over-priced protein accompanied by appropriate garnishes from one side of the room to the other.  I later collect those plates, hopefully a little lighter than when I dropped them off, and return them to the opposite side of the room.  Quite surprisingly, people willingly hand me large amounts of their hard earned money to do this menial task.

But what of satisfaction?  What of inspiration?  What of creativity?

I was educated at McGill University in the fields of Anthropology and Psychology.  I studied different aspects of various cultures and the people that formed them.  I’d like to think that I have learned a thing or two about humanity.

But what of Life?  Life is something different.

In this blog I would like to talk about life.  Not as it exists currently, perhaps.  But rather I would like to talk of life as it was supposed to exist.  A subtle difference, but a poignant one.  Some may call my writing fantasy.  Others may call it absurd.  I call it the Elementalist Epoch.  A time when fires ignited from within.  A place where mountains were moved with a word and oceans parted with a flick of the wrist.  A journey that ended only when the winds themselves became exhausted.

Welcome to my blog.

I hope it brings you as much joy to read as it brought me to create.