September is here. We’ve made it to the “-ber” months. I don’t feel as though I am coming back to life, yet, though. The summer slump rages on. Melancholy still has me in a cold grip. I am not experiencing any spooky excitation thus far. I do hope that changes soon.
I want to do so many things. Write. Take pictures in a cemetery. Create spooky content for my social media. Unfortunately, my brain remains apathetic to my yearning for artistic expression. It’s as though I am on pause. I don’t seem to be able to locate the play button.
Hopefully, things will improve soon. I mean, they have to, right? I can’t stay stuck forever. I anxiously await the seasonal muse. While we wait, here is the obligatory self-promotion:
Not only is the title of this post also the title of the first scary short story I wrote, but it is also a description of the past week of my life. Sadly, there was a loss in my family. A pretty significant one. Libra had to travel back to her town of origin. What an insightful trip it was. You actually can go home again, but nothing will be the same; not even the things that seem to never change.
Aside from short day trips for holidays or family functions, I haven’t been home in fifteen years. Spending more than a few hours there was completely surreal; it’s odd to look at something from your youth with the wisdom of adulthood. Memories flooded back to me, both comical and tragic. So much of who I am is rooted in that town, despite how vehemently I tried to deny that all these years. Without Libraville (just go with it), there would be no Twisted Libra. My connection to the spooky has been part of me since birth, but that connection was fostered in the little southern town I called home for so long.
I used to have trouble admitting that. You see, Libraville is (or, at least, was) always more conservative and steeped in tradition. I was often viewed as an outcast, which simultaneously gave me emotional damage and a determination to be as weird as fucking possible. You want to burn me down? I’ll light the goddamn fire myself and dance in the flames. Judgment made me tough; opinions are like assholes, everybody’s got one. Growing up in that place taught me to break free from caring what other people think.
I wasn’t always so confident. We all start out meek in some way. I wasted most of my youth giving a shit what my peers thought of me, particularly one individual whom I considered family. I hate to admit, a lot of the shenanigans I found myself in were solely to impress this person. If I could go back, I would have done so much differently. Others saw the cracks in the foundation of our friendship, but I refused to listen. I learned too late that I was the butt of many of this person’s jokes, and that they had no qualms about taking what was mine. It’s almost as if they hated to see me succeed at anything. I know now that this says far more about this person than it does about me, but back then it really broke me down.
Why am I telling you this? Well, because of all that happened to me back then in Libraville, both good and bad, I became resilient enough to give no fucks. I embraced my spookiness. Twisted Libra was born. I write scary books and dark poetry. I do cemetery photography. I love who I am. My trip home helped me understand my roots, and finally I am comfortable with the fact that my little hometown played a vital part in me becoming the best version of myself. That shy girl who went along with her friend so she would be thought of as “cool” and never dared to tell people about her dark side has finally learned to love herself. Some girls blossom like roses; I blossomed like deadly nightshade. Still, I did blossom. I’m proud to be from Libraville, and now that I’m gone, I find my mind wandering back. I thought about home often over the years. The only difference is, now it makes me smile.
Shameless self-promotion: Get my books at Barnes and Noble or Amazon!
Life has a way of slowing down the creative process sometimes. I don’t write as much anymore. I don’t get out to do photography hardly ever. I feel stuck. True, this tends to happen to me in the hot summer months; I dread going outdoors at all, so trips to the gorgeous cemeteries become few and far between. It can be difficult to hunker down in cozy blankets on a dark, rainy day to write macabre poetry when it is bright, humid, barely rainy, and hotternhell every day. It’s daylight outside until goddamn 9pm, too. Not easy to embrace the night when you’re in bed before sundown. I admit: I have hit the summertime slump.
What’s a creepy girl to do? I feel like I’ve fallen so far behind on all my upcoming creations that I may never publish anything again. (Alright, so we all know that’s not true.) Still, I published my last book just before Christmas of ’23 and I just now, TODAY, submitted the copyright forms. I have always copyrighted my books asap. This time, I took six months. That is quite un-Libra-like.
Believe me, I want to do better. I want to write daily, and create lots of spooktacular content for you all. Life is just…a lot. Don’t get me wrong, I love the new day job. I do. It just consumes much more of my brain space than any other job has in the past. It’s a career, not just a “job.” I find myself thinking about work with the frequency that I used to think up story ideas. My quiet moments seem to be leading my brain towards work-related situations and solutions rather than creation of spooky things. It’s a strange territory, and I have yet to understand how to expertly navigate the terrain.
Thank you, my lovelies, for sticking around through my shitty slumps as a blogger. I adore all (three) of you. Truly. Forgive my transgressions, and trust me when I say you have not seen the last of your beloved Twisted Libra! Summer has to end sometime, right?
Before I go, please enjoy this gratuitous self-promotion:
I apparently can’t understand terribly basic things. I tried an editing software today. One of those pricy ones that is supposedly user-friendly and has a gazillion features. So easy, everyone can use it. I am definitely not “everyone.” Total fail.
I tried the free trial, which gave me access to every feature and the tutorials. Fat lot of good that did. An hour or so later, I had managed to create a short clip with a really cool fog overlay and some spooky music. However, I couldn’t figure out how to add to it, how to use more edits, or even how to download the goddamn thing to my computer. I tried, but it kept downloading some other file. I’m not saying this was terrible software; I am simply saying I suck at doing the most basic things. Today was a shining example of just how horribly off the rails I can travel.
So, if the pricey stuff didn’t work for me, what shall I do? Funny you should ask. (Okay, you didn’t ask. I did. Stay with me.) I tried an app on my phone that was recommended by an acquaintance on Instagram. It was free. It was easy to use. I made a short video clip. Successfully. Looky:
Not too shabby for a free app, huh? This is just a test promo. I can do better. I just wanted to see what the app had to offer, and if it was something I could figure out how to use. I’d call this a success. I’ve always said, if it’s free it’s for me! Now I can start working on some book promos. Brace yourselves, my lovelies.
That’s all I have for now. Still writing, still doing cemetery photography, starting to work on promo materials. Hopefully, I will have plenty to post for you soon. If you haven’t already, be sure to subscribe to this blog so you don’t miss anything. And you can follow me on a few of the ol’ socials.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Well, my lovelies, you all must be in love with me by now. I haven’t blogged in over two months. Why, you ask? I wish I had some profound or heroic reason, but the truth is I suck as a blogger. Life gets in the way sometimes. The real world can be unforgivingly overwhelming, and often I have to choose between creating a new blog post or retaining what little sanity I have left. For whatever reason, I keep choosing sanity. Maybe I should take a walk on the whimsical side of a breakdown?
Aside from flirting with mental illness, I have kept creating. I have written several new poems, and I feel like my next project will be another dark poetry collection. As I have mentioned before, I do have some ideas for one or two new novels, but for now I am more comfortable writing poetry. It is where I feel most in touch with my creative side.
As for the books I have already written, I plan to try my hand at creating some short videos to advertise them. I have gotten some good feedback on editing software (Thanks, Adam! You’re a doll!) and, if I can manage not to fuck things up too severely, I should hopefully have something to show you all by the end of the week. Stay tuned!
I guess that’s all for now, my lovelies. Sorry I was gone for so long. I will try not to be so shitty moving forward, okay? Thanks for sticking by me, even when I disappear for a bit. Before I go, here are the obligatory self-promotion links:
Today was a good day, my lovelies! I took a little field trip outside the cemetery to the Edgar Allan Poe museum in Richmond! It was such an incredible place! As a writer of the macabre, I had to pay my respects to one of the masters.
I took quite a few pictures, and possibly caught something paranormal, which I shall share with you in a moment. Suffice it to say, this museum is a must-see. It’s rife with authentic memorabilia from Poe’s life. I learned new things, and saw old things of which I was familiar. There is even a coffin you can step into to see how it would feel to be “buried alive.” Well, kind of, I suppose. Either way, what a gimmick! So, without further ado, here are some of the pictures from my trip. There are a lot. Sorry. Enjoy!
I also purchased a raven ring. Now I have one for Dracula and one for Poe.
And now, for the possibly paranormal part. Of course, right? Nothing ever goes without some form of weirdness. In the first building, there is a staircase that is roped off. Employee access only. Well, I leaned over the rope to get a picture of the stairs. I always feel compelled to take pictures of staircases. I steadied my phone, saw the shot clearly in the viewscreen, and snapped a picture. I waited a few seconds and snapped another, just for fun. Both pictures were clearly in focus in my screen. I was not moving. My hands were steady. As I was leaving the gift shop post-tour, I had a short conversation with an employee. Of course, the topic of ghosts came up. Without me even mentioning the stairs (at this point, I had not viewed my images), she offered that the stairs might be haunted, as people had reported hearing footsteps when no one was on them. I realized she was talking about the same stairs I photographed. When I got to my car, I checked my images. This is what I found:
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! Why are they BOTH blurry? How did this even happen? Every other picture I took came out perfect and focused. I took my time with both these shots. I saw them in my viewscreen! Why do they look like they were taken underwater or something? Make it make sense.
Someone, weigh in on this. Please. I have no explanation. I just wanted a nice shot of the stairs. I wasn’t even looking for anything paranormal. Let me know what you think. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my pictures. If you are ever in the Richmond area, definitely drop by the museum. Totally worth it! And if you’re in the mood for something macabre, you can enjoy my horror trilogy Tales from the Twisted Libra Cemetery!
Welcome back to the cemetery, my lovelies! Inspiration struck me this morning, and I have a spanking new wicked creation to entomb here for you all! I can’t say for certain that this is truly completed, but I’m happy with it so this might actually be the final version. Enjoy!
My imagination runs away,
Like a raindrop cascading down the window pane.
I dream of you.
You take me to the very depths,
Then pull me to the heights do fast, I lose my breath.
You’re my escape.
Actuality holds no appeal.
It devastates me to think that you’re not real.
Just in my head.
I savor every memory,
That never was, and yet they’re such a part of me.
I crave the lie.
The truth is too harsh to accept.
In dreams, I’ve smiled, but in life, I’ve mostly wept.
I can’t let go.
I merely exist, but with you, I live.
I close my eyes and embrace this consuming narrative,
I hope you enjoyed it! I may add more, but so far I am pleased with it. What do you think? Do you have someone or something that resides in your mind, offering respite from the cruel reality of life? If you’re an avid reader, I’m guessing you do. Imagination is such a beautiful aspect of humanity. Don’t you agree?
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Hello, my lovelies! Yours truly took another trip to the Hollywood Cemetery early this morning. It is my new favorite place, for sure. I took along my journal, and discovered a new spot in which to write. I must have sat for at least an hour, taking it all in. This will definitely become a routine for me. I wrote many things, one of which is still being perfected and is not ready for sharing just yet; however, I do have one little snippet that I can tease you with! Enjoy!
As I said, it is not finished. There are several more stanzas. This is just the beginning. I look forward to sharing it with you all! I find the Grim Reaper to be such a fascinating character. Perhaps he will make more appearances in my work? We shall see. The cemetery was so lovely today! My soul craves that tranquility. I could sit there for hours and never feel bored or alone or afraid. The dead do not scare me; it’s the living I don’t trust.
I hope this blog post finds you happy and fulfilled on this quiet Sunday. As always, pictures will be posted soon on my Instagram and in my personal gallery! Thank you for joining me in my cemetery today, my lovelies! It is always my dark pleasure to entertain you!
I ventured outside my own cemetery this morning to a gorgeous, old cemetery nearby. As fortune would have it, I now live just a short drive from Hollywood Cemetery in Virginia. This place is unimaginably beautiful. I don’t even have proper words to describe what I saw today. This is by far my favorite cemetery ever. EVER.
I took so many pictures. I don’t even know where to begin with my edits. Hell, they are beautiful with zero edits. I will just share a few so you can get the idea. The rest will be up soon in my personal gallery on www.twistedlibracemetery.com.
It was utterly astonishing how gorgeous this place truly is. I could have spent the entire day there. I look forward to going back. I can see this as a weekly thing for me. The serenity, the beauty, the history; I felt more at peace than I have in quite a long time. This is my new favorite, my lovelies. Without a doubt.
Please check back soon in my personal gallery for more photos. Also, I have already posted several videos of my visit over on my Instagram. I saw a large group of deer, petted the Iron Mastiff, and sat with the dead alongside the James River. Go check those out, they will not disappoint. And if you haven’t already, feel free to subscribe to this little blog o’ mine!
Welcome back to the cemetery, my lovelies! The last few days have brought about quite the revelation for me as a writer. I feel I am gravitating back to my true voice. Fittingly, I have a new poem about change; about starting over. Well, sort of. See for yourselves:
A chaotic canvas, yearning for change,
Painted in the colors of the past.
Illustrations dreamt up by a version of me that no longer exists.
Strip away the imagery of another life. Another time.
Creativity is a fickle mistress. She will seemingly abandon you for what feels like an eternity, then rush upon you like a sudden winter wind. Her icy caress draws you towards delicious inspiration. Once she presents herself, take full advantage of her influence, lest she disappear again.
Dancing Among the Remains 