New poem in the works! Out soon!


Short Story: "A Shadow Over Hocking"

Blurb: Preston Moore and Eileen Farrow are spending a week away from their busy lives in the city, and they've chosen Hocking Hills, Ohio, as the place to go. The forest they enter into is a rather tame one compared to many of the world's wild places, but plenty of dangers still lurk in the shadows -- and on a moonless night, shadows may be all these two will find.


Poem: "Alias"

By: Eve Estelle


Early Writings Tag

Tagged by Lisa

Good morning!

I have a question for you: How do you feel when reading your past works?

Doesn't matter if you consider yourself a writer or not, you've written something, be it an academic essay or a dozen novels. So, as you distance yourself from those things via the passage of time, how does your view of them change? Does it become embarrassing to go through them, and you'd rather rip the page out or delete the file than let it continue to exist?

Maybe you get this gut-wrenching feeling whenever someone goes to read them...

Writers have a tendency to hate their old works, and some prefer to pretend that such works never reached paper (or screen, in many of our cases). Thing is, though, that we all have those crappy first stories, and as time passes and our skills improve, it doesn't even have to be an "early" writing to suck. It just has to be old.

That's a good thing, though! Means you've gotten better, and now you can recognize what you did wrong before. Or at least that it wasn't as perfect as it felt when you first wrote it.

(But don't be like me and actually delete them all. You'll almost certainly regret it, I promise.)

Just thought I'd throw that out there, 'cause I've got a fun little tag to go through and it's on this very subject.

A big thank you to Lisa at Inkwell for tagging me for the Early Writings Tag, started by Abbiee!


Poem: "White Dove In Mourning"

Vio WallpaperCave; edited

White Dove In Mourning
By: Eve Estelle


From Words to Music, Writer to Musician: Resources for Learning How to Play & Compose

Well, that's got to be the longest post title I've ever used. 

Not always, but a lot of the time when we work creatively with the written word, writing poetry and putting our hearts into our beloved stories, we start to develop a desire to express ourselves in another way -- with music.

I've never met anybody who didn't want to play an instrument of some kind, and many of us would've loved to be musicians, or at least capable of playing something, long before discovering this ink-and-paper world of plots and characters, where we, as authors, are allowed and even encouraged to pull the strangest, most wonderful things straight out of our asses. Some even manage to learn the musical ropes early on in life!

But, if you were like me, then you were never quite that ambitious. I've always thought it would be amazing to play an instrument, and I've tried a couple times with piano, very briefly with guitar, flute, etc. Never stuck with it for long. I still wanted to learn, but I just didn't have the motivation for it.

Over my last few years of writing, however, I've felt myself drawn back to the lovely sounds of music, often writing to the beat or mood of certain tracks, and to the rhythm of instrumental melodies. I've even found myself singing a couple of my own poems -- whoops. And then I hit upon an artist, a style, that renewed my craving to learn to play: Lindsey Stirling, violinist.