The first was my poem, "Migraine," which appeared on Duane's PoeTree Blog. This is one I wrote many moons ago. I've been a migraine sufferer since I was about seven years old, so it's a subject that I know a lot about. But I had never submitted it before because I didn't think it was good enough.
Back in November, I created an Instagram poetry account. (I'm @laurenscharhag, if you're interested.) I've been relying a lot on old writings for content, which means it's been a great opportunity to revisit my old stuff. Some of it is just as bad as I thought it was, but there were a few gems. I'm sure other writers can relate. In the course of looking for stuff I could post on my IG account, I found "Migraine," and decided to send it out. I am continuously learning that I am the worst judge of my own work. Don't be like me. Believe in yourself, and send the work out. You're bound to connect with somebody.
The second publication this month was, "That One I Wrote During the Eclipse," which appeared in The Broke Bohemian. The folks at TBB liked the poem so much, they made it this edition's Editor's Choice. I'm astonished and humbled that this meandering, stream-of-consciousness piece has been recognized in such a way. The title is, uh, self-explanatory? I've been trying to provide a bit of background on my poems in this blog. I guess I've been thinking it's important to show people something of a working poet's process. In this case, let's just say, it was a true story.
And finally, the third piece that saw print this month was a short story! I don't write nearly as many as I want to-- I'm still working on some novels, so when I do write prose, I tend to focus my energy on those. I'm hoping that when they're done, I can take some time to up my short story game. In the meantime, "The Seven Wives of Richard Copeland" appeared in Schlock! Magazine (UK). Do you love the old-school pulp cover art as much as I do?
"Seven Wives" is a riff on Lovecraft's story, "Pickman's Model." In my piece, a black market arts dealer named Eva is hired to hunt down some of Pickman's work for a collector. She finds it, and since this is a Lovecraftian tale, terrible things happen. Obviously.
One more bit of news before I sign off-- a friend from high school tagged me on IG. She wanted me to know that her son was reading and loving The Ice Dragon. She said, "I love that you have become the writer you dreamed of being all those years ago, and I love that I can share your words with my children." You guys, I teared up. This is the greatest reward a writer can ever hope to achieve. Thank you, friend, for sharing this moment with me.
I feel like a broken record sometimes because I say, "Thank you," so much, and it's just the tiniest fraction of the gratitude that I feel. Thanks to all these lovely editors for believing in me. And, as always, thank you, kind readers. You're the whole reason I'm here.
