SRAOC #13 Blood Made of Crackling Light

Small Rebellious Acts of Creativity (#SRAOC) is a weekly invitation to explore a word, or phrase, through whichever creative avenue, platform or modality the participant wishes. It is intended to be a philosophical or creative catalyst moreso than a straight up writing prompt.

This week’s prompt was: Blood Made of Crackling Light

There was much hilarity as the three of us imagined an alternative version of Sesame Street; the darker, edgier, seedier side of the wholesome goodness that is Big Bird, Oscar, Bert and Ernie, and the rest of Jim Henson’s creative imagination. However, we will spare you the abomination that was our imagination.

Instead, what did we make of this week’s prompt?


This week I did something I haven’t tried before – using an existing line of text to build a cut-up poem around. As always, I had a hearty giggle at the random page that was chosen and how it was perfect for the prompt. I even managed to find within three clicks, the perfect illustration to pair with it.

Source Text: Running Backward Across Sand, Stephanie Dowrick
Image: The Jester by NoirRojo via DeviantArt


There was a pinprick of blood beading between the nailbed and fingertip. A strip of skin peeled back too far. It reminded him of the mythology of young boys who had picked at scabs believing it would be enough to form scars, yet adolescence subverted their ideology and turned fresh pink skin to rough, hairy acreage. A return to those memories preserved in the smell of Band Aids and Dettol, the formaldehyde of youth. To prise open that jar with the crackling of last light runs the risk of unmasking the stench of naïve hypocrisy and furtive masturbation. For what is memory except the mythology of wasted years.


A storm rages outside, and the lights play a give-and-take flicker with lightning strikes that turn the black night into day, a negative image of everything that is supposed to be.
The energy is palpable, coursing through me with a charge that I savor.

I become one with the storm, allowing the crackling light of creativity within, stirring this mind, this blood, to greater things.

Age and experience provide us two roads. On the first path, we are wooed to relax, resign, and let the lightning remain distant. We cover up, stay insulated from the elements, and go gently into that good night.

The second road is elemental, dangerous. We ache at day’s end, tend to our wounds, marvel at the mysterious injuries that now plague us. We shake our heads as we stare into the crackling light of the fire, too tired to move from the sparking embers that find the undersides of our forearms, and we watch and wait for the pain to find its way to our brain.

Like the expanding time between thunder strikes and lightning bolts from a fading storm, we linger as we wait to feel what we have already seen.

The storm continues as I walk the second road. Let the blood flow more dangerously as I explore the undiscovered path. I would rather ache than wake to find that I had not lived. Today at 54 years offers exactly what yesterday did at 27. I will not be wooed by the resigning, dimming light in the distance. May the blood boil in the crackling light today as it did in a thousand yesterdays. There is no time to resign. There is much blood to be made of this crackling light.

SRAOC #11 Common Union

Small Rebellious Acts of Creativity (#SRAOC) is a weekly invitation to explore a word, or phrase, through whichever creative avenue, platform or modality the participant wishes. It is intended to be a philosophical or creative catalyst moreso than a straight up writing prompt.

This week’s prompt was: Common Union


My exploration began as some scribbles on a scrap piece of paper over breakfast last Monday.

It quickly became apparent I needed a much larger and more organised space to work in – which was provided by a graphing exercise book. Friday, in a mess of emotions, I took what I needed to go deeper into creating this and went to one of my favourite cafes.





At the end of my time there I had the penciled in version on the right, which cleaned up with some ink to be the final below.

I realised community is ‘common unity’ and what I created through linking words was a road map into community but also into oneness.

I’d love to know what your favourite coupling is?


What are our bodies but suits of earth
molded clay wrapped around sticks
and given breath. Sucked in one orifice and
excreted from another. All the while speaking
tongues of angels, a glossolalia that trips
over the teeth and lips in a babble,
hastening to make meaning of corporeal thought.
And in action, repeating movements as a reverential
parody of worship. And still I crave your form,
to be held in common union, a eucharistic hope
of unity between two clods of earth
yearning to furrow the other.


I’ve been a dabbler in Photoshop for years, but I’ve never really challenged myself with anything mildly complex like bringing three photos together.

When this prompt was pulled, I knew immediately that I wanted to do something that would capture the common union among the three of us.

So, I asked Jodi and Adam to select a few favorites of my nature photos. From their selections, I chose one from each.

I chose this one from Jodi:

And I chose this one from Adam:

I decided to add one of my favorites, our Maryland State Flower, the Black-Eyed Susans, which is this photo.

From there, I played (and played and played) with pulling them together in some way.

My final creation is below. It is far from fair when it comes to Photoshop standards (leaving the stems on the flowers would have been a good move – and it would make them look a little less like spiders), but I learned a lot in the process, and I will continue dabbling in Photoshop a little more seriously.

The point, though, is this: We three have a common union on so many levels. Here, I wanted to simply capture the beauty we share, as depicted in a common union of three selected photos. In this image, we see a little yin, a little yang, and a lot of mystical gray between the two.

I had fun. And I love the common union we share.

3.2 A Celebration of Discipline

I suck at discipline.

Yet I’ve managed to co-write a novel, complete the first draft of a novella and keep writing small bits and pieces because I love to play with language.

I suck at discipline.

Yet I’ve managed to play in a covers band for the last few years putting in practice behind the drum kit whenever I can manage.

I suck at discipline.

Yet I’ve managed to get up at 5:20 three mornings a week for two and a half years to go to CrossFit for the betterment of my physical and mental health.

I suck at discipline.

Yet I love routine and mundane rituals; left leg before the right. Always. First pants, then shoes (thank you Gary Larson’s The Far Side for the life advice).

And I hate that I suck at discipline because I could be further advanced in my writing practice, in my drum skills, my reading habits, and in my fitness.

The title for this post comes from a non-fiction text I return to occasionally when the need for a sense of discipline arises. Ironically, I have never finished reading the book. It is “A Celebration of Discipline” by Richard Foster, and it is focused on Christian religious practices e.g prayer and fasting. It is not a book you walk into lightly. The book hints at a monastic sense of discipline and a fervent sense of denial of self. Not a dismissal of worldly pleasures but an awareness and understanding of humanity’s place within the context of creation.

I see discipline in a monastic manner. That is, a sense of devotion and commitment (and here I agree with Jodi) to developing the sense of self and how it is connected with, and through, our creative endeavours. It is ritual and repetition, mundane and sacred, practice and practise.

Reading drumming magazines and blogs I saw how the elite managed their time to practise up to 8 hours a day, 7 days a week to achieve their goal. Similar sacrifices could be applied to athletes, business people, anyone who has a goal to achieve their vision.

And if that works for them, fantastic. It doesn’t work for me. There are situations and circumstances, despite my privilege, which means I cannot give over the same amount of time.

I want to have that (almost) monastic approach to discipline because I want to see just what I can create if I am committed to the cause.


Therefore it’s time to rethink how I approach discipline.

I want to be dedicated and committed to my creative practice, and it is an goal I strive for but realistically it’s not going to happen. Rather than a methodical, daily practice borne out of routine and perfunctory ritual (which it still can be if I want it to), I can approach it as a cyclical momentum. To look at each month, week and day on the calendar and ask, “What can I achieve? This month? This week? This day?

I know this month is no good for me because I’m moving house. I know other months in the year will be difficult to maintain a daily discipline due to the marking workload I will have (I teach high school English). Therefore my practice of discipline will look different if I approach it from a cyclical perspective.

How long should it take to write a novel? Or a short story? Or a poem?

Depends on who you ask. My answer: As long as it takes.

It might take me two years to write that poem. Or three years to write that short story. Or I can punch out that novella in four months. It takes as long as it does for a variety of reasons, dependent on circumstance and situation but if I maintain the discipline to be aware of what I am working towards then I will complete what I have started.

I have noticed that writers are not sharing their word counts like they used to do on social media:
“I wrote 5,000 words today.”
“Tough day. Only managed 3,700 words.”
“WOW! Exceeded expectations by writing 1,500 words!”

Transparency of practice is not necessarily an indicator of discipline. As Jodi said last week, it is the commitment to putting your bum into the seat to make it happen on a regular basis which is an act of discipline regardless of the outcome. It’s not just word count that is an act of discipline but research, reading, re-reading, making notes, brainstorming, character sketches, plot summaries or synopses.

And it’s not necessarily about sharing that with the world. Create in secret if you want. Tell the world if that’s your preference to want a cheer squad. We all deserve a round of applause now and then.

The act of discipline can be monthly or weekly challenges, daily word counts, pages read, sentences written. They are marker points along the way. What about your longer term goals. KPIs. Specific? Measurable? Achievable? Relevant and Realistic? Time framed?

Each creative person’s method of discipline is different and your practice may not be successful for someone else. Elements of it might be. Time to try it out and see if it works.


Another aspect to discipline I believe is important is apprenticeship. While I may not have the disciplined focus I want, I can be apprenticed to another who is further in the journey ahead of me, or someone who will walk beside me. I still have much to learn. I can apprentice myself to another to understand the parameters and work within the boundaries before I colour outside the lines. Apprenticeship is to learn from a master.

Mentorship is another method of developing discipline. Accountability is key. With the JAR Writers Collective I have found two like minded individuals who can assist me in my creative journey. I won’t always agree with their perspective or point of view on a topic, nor will they always align with me. What I do have is a support network to help me through when I doubt my creativity, can’t seem to produce words, or cheer me on when projects are going well.


I want to make conscious decisions about the texts I aim to create. I need to be disciplined in maintaining that focus. I will apprentice myself to masters to learn. I will engage mentors to check on me. I will think of progress in cycles and not be upset when it doesn’t go well or expected.

And I will still suck at discipline. And I’m ok with that because I will consider myself a work in progress.

Small Rebellious Acts of Creativity #10

Small Rebellious Acts of Creativity (#SRAOC) is a weekly invitation to explore a word, or phrase, through whichever creative avenue, platform or modality the participant wishes. It is intended to be a philosophical or creative catalyst moreso than a straight up writing prompt.


Make it accessible for yourself. Easeful. Invite yourself into a place and a space free from the pressure of overwhelm. Pressure to perform. Keep it simple. Small is not subjugation. Small is not less than. Small carries a power all of its own. Gift yourself 5 minutes. Sometimes it doesn’t need to be anything more.


Rebel against apathy, procrastination, perfection, self contempt, self doubt, lack of confidence, lack of time, other people’s antagonism, lack of belief, the voice of the inner critic, and anything else that wants to tell you ‘no’. Flip the bird at your Imposter Complex. Interrogate. Innovate. Initiate. This is a space for saying yes.

Act Of

Do. Doable. Doing. Done. Even if it’s five bed-headed minutes, on a Wednesday morning, with your first infusion of caffeine for the day, tapping a list of ten things into your phone. Make a space. Fill it.


Make something from nothing. Anything. The possibilities are endless. Draw. Paint. Build. Dance in the shower. Play. Howl. Doodle. Bake. Cut up poetry. Block out text. Collage magazine pictures. Snap a photograph. Garden. Read something aloud. Send someone a card. Make a digital mash-up. Create a playlist. Hum a song. Journal. Daybook. Write a list. Instagram a favourite quote. Play the instrument you have buried away in your cupboard.

This week’s invitation is…

We will be back Sunday to share our meanderings and renderings and to see where ‘this is like water’ took you during the week.