Self Care for Writers

Posted on by sereichert

Hey there. I see you. Staring, blank eyed, into your screen. Just a thousand more words. Just get this poem revised. Just submit to one more journal. Post one more eye-catching reel. Just call three more bookstores. Just, just, just, just…

It isn’t hard to get caught up in the loop of hustling for your art. And I don’t mean that’s always a bad thing. We care about our work. We love our work. We want to share and celebrate our work. This world has a variety of pathways to do that (an overwhelming and convoluted sphere in itself), but it often amounts to at least a part time job in itself. Beyond the writing, the poem-ing, the editing, the revision, our creativity is in constant competition for the pesky day-to-day of living.

Psh. Family. Day jobs. Grocery shopping. Cleaning. Taxes. PTA meetings. Board meetings. Bake sales. Yard work. Caregiving. That contest you said you’d judge. Simultaneous vaccinations for every furry thing in the house… everything competing for space in your brain and on your schedule. I get burnt out just thinking about it all. So this week, we’re going to take a step back, put down the balls I’m juggling (I can’t type balls without giggling a little–Jesus Christ Sarah, pull it together) and talk about some things we can do as creatives/writers to keep ourselves sane, calm, and focused, in these over productive lives. I think you guys deserve a bullet list. It’s been awhile.

  • Sleep. Protect your goddamn sleep at all costs. Seriously. Priding yourself on four hours a night is only super cool to tech bros and cocaine addicts (or do I repeat myself?) Create a bedtime routine like you were a toddler. We turn off our phones, we brush our teeth, we stretch and meditate, we read something calming, we shut off the light and we settle in. (or whatever combination works for you) Every night. Limit your caffeine and your booze.
  • Find time to write for fun. I get it, all of us write and it’s all ‘supposed’ to be fun. But sometimes there are projects and deadlines. You should always have some outlet that isn’t related to your bigger goals. Journaling every day counts. I have a tiny notebook and every day I sit down to write one poem in only the space of two tiny pages. Only have 5 minutes? Do that. That’s enough. Have 20? Take it and make it your downtime.
  • Exercise. Listen you don’t have to run marathons. You could to chair yoga or mobility stretches. You could go for a walk or a bike ride. You could Jazzercise for all I care, Richard Simmons your heart out. Power lift or join a Cross-Fit cult. The brain works better when the blood is flowing. Not only that, but it will kick up your endorphins and hopefully help your sleep, posture, and overall sense of well-being. Movement matters
  • Read. Holy shit, I used to be terrible about this! I’d only pick up a book at the end of the day, maybe make it through a page, and fall asleep. I told myself I didn’t have time. I was a big dumb liar. There is time in the day. I read in the morning now, and a little at lunch, and again in the afternoon. A variety, some philosophy, some writing books, some fiction. A healthy diet of words help me to have fuel for my own.
  • Don’t take it so seriously. I’m not talking about just your writing. I’m talking about your life. Here’s a secret that capitalism and social media doesn’t want you to know. The statuses, the Amazon ratings, the likes and comments–none of it really matters. It’s an alternate plane of information that really doesn’t mean anything. Have you ever sat in your own skin consciously for a minute. Felt the reality of being? Known that if a giant EMP took out all technology suddenly, you would still exist in the world. We only get this one time, we only get the moment and the breath we’re in. If you never published another book, the world would still keep spinning. If you were rejected 600 times, the sun would still rise the next day. Silly human, stop obsessing about the trivial and just be present. Find your joy in the here and now.

Well, there you go. Take care of yourself. Get sunshine, good food, movement, and water. Treat yourself like your favorite houseplant. Talk gently to yourself. Forgive yourself. Take lots of big, deep belly breaths, and trust that whatever you have to give for today, is more than enough.

Worth for Awhile

Posted on by sereichert

A large part of human nature’s beauty lies in our failures and follies. Perfect people are rarely very interesting. As a writer, creating ‘perfect’ characters is a sure-fire way to distance your readers and lose their interest. Why? Because no one wants to read about someone who always gets it right. Who can share commonality with that? And yet…our reality is often ruled by what we, as actual humans, fail at.

When thinking about human frailty and my own failings I stumbled across the largest stone in my path of late; Self-Worth.

I know I’m not alone. I see you out there.

It’s more than fair to say that we are comparative beings. The media propagates it, competitive constructs in work and school demand it, and long-standing cultural threads tie our successes (and our failures) to what we’re worth in the eyes of the rest of the world.

Its the single most destructive lie we’ve ever been told.

And its easy to say that it doesn’t affect us. That we don’t care how we stand in relation to other people, that we don’t have a competitive nature, that we don’t feel the need to be anything else than what we are. I say those things all the time. And they rarely do more than offer a feeble disguise over the surface of self-doubt.

If we didn’t care, we’d cease to try. We’d stop looking for ways to improve. But something that should drive our greatness often tears us apart and we are left with shreds of the human we used to be, torn apart in an effort to create something more inspirational in the eyes of the world.

I was recently told, by a very generous soul, that my self-worth shouldn’t come from anyone but myself. That I couldn’t let the berating, criticism, or comparisons of the world let me feel any less than what I was worth. That it wasn’t the outside that should decide, but what was inside of me.

So it made me wonder; What am I worth?

In terms of chemistry, my physical make-up is probably no more than about $3.00 worth of material.

If you broke down my daily tasks and how much you’d have to pay someone else to do them, some would say I’d be worth about $140,000 a year. If you based my worth on what I contribute to the world with my writing we’re looking at a solid $50 a year. Monetarily, its not very impressive. And again, I’m basing my worth on what other’s consider useful tasks/materials.

So what am I worth? What are you worth? Sit still with yourself and ask the question:

“What do I do, what am I, that matters to me? That impacts the world? That brings me contentment?”

Deep…yes. Sometimes we gotta get past the cloak of simple thought to really understand why we matter. We have to, for the sake of our own self-preservation. After all; if you don’t see worth in yourself, you start to feel like a burden to the people you love. And all sorts of ugly outcomes arise from that train of thought…trust me, I’ve been building a scary set of tracks in that direction myself of late.

So I sat down, prompted by my friend’s words and suffering through a trough of depression, and asked myself what I was worth.

I came to the conclusion that for a long time I’ve let the words and actions of other people (in their own beautiful human imperfection) determine my self worth. If they were mad at something in our shared existence, I took it on as a fault of mine. As a problem that I didn’t fix or prevent. If comments were made about appearance, I took the darkest path of focusing on my imperfections and felt the need to correct them by any strange and unhealthy way possible.

It left me wanting and sick.

Why do I let my brain do that?

Because we’re taught to improve. To impress. To be better. To strive for more. Instead of just being what and who we are and understanding that we aren’t responsible for other people’s happiness or conforming to ideas of perfection. We must set boundaries to the information we let affect us. Even my friend’s well intentioned advice was still someone on the outside telling me what to think about my self worth. It’s not about letting someone tell me I am worth-while. Its about knowing my own worth and not letting the outside world sway that knowledge either negatively or positively.

Now there are times, when someone who loves us may come to us with good intention, and full hearts and offer us a viewpoint about something destructive they see in us. There are times when someone has honest praise to offer. With careful appreciation of the information we’re given we can chose to look at it with neutrality and see if there is helpful advice within it, and take it as an opportunity for self-reflection.

I love you guys, for all you are. Just as you are. Have a beautiful week and stretch your brains and hearts to fit the worth inside of you. It’s there.

“My dear,
In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
I realized, through it all, that…
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.

Truly yours,
Albert Camus”

Artists Need Each Other

Posted on by sereichert

So yesterday I was invited to this really cool space in north Fort Collins, called Kestrel Fields Studio and Art Residency. The owner, Heather Matthews, is a delightful human who has created this space to help support not just artists in need of a space to work and focus their attention on their craft, but also as a gathering space for artists from all around. Last night, she invited a lively and varied crowd of Arts Administrators from the area to mingle, talk, and answer some important questions about what art means in our community, how we can work together, and what the future of art in our community could look like.

I won’t go into great detail but I did notice a few things that were brought up time and time again. First, that even in communities where the art scene (I’m covering it all; music, visual arts, performing arts, literary arts, etc) is vibrant, there is often a disconnect between artists sharing their work and the public being connected to it. We all know that funding for the arts has taken a hit under the current federal administration. When we couple that with an economy that’s currently circling the toilet bowl, private funds are also being withheld as the whole country braces for these depressive futures. In itself, this creates a depression and repression of a different kind. Creation of art is not free nor easy. It costs time, and material and effort.

Artists in America (with the exception of those billion dollar stars out there) are not paid well, if at all. Art is not considered worthy of compensation to a capitalist system. Why? Because it defies all the markers of capitalism. It is not meant to be consumed and thrown out in an never-ending wasteful cycle. It is not massed produced, or homogenized for easier consumption. Art is unique, and personal, and deep-rooted. It asks the observer to think and to feel, and to step outside of their own perceptions. Art is uncomfortable and often questions power. It is dangerous in all the right ways. Because people who think and ask you to question our societal confines are often discredited. After all, why would a system promote someone trying to shake us out of a stupor to acknowledge our humanity above powerful, greed-driven systems? Art does not serve systemic oppression.

The point is that art and artists in America are more often seen as quaint, quirky and starving, rather than being hard-working harbingers of change and progress. Unfortunately, the marker of respect in our society is tied with monetary compensation, and we do not give that to artists, no matter how they may improve our lives or move our souls. So…something to think about is how you interact, support, and uplift the artists in your community. First, by going to their shows, reading their books, reviewing them and spreading the word. Paying a cover designer when you can. Paying for someone who edits or writes copy for you. Paying a musician to preform at your event. That money goes directly back to the artists and therefor the community. And it speaks a louder truth that Art Is Worthwhile.

Along those lines, let’s talk about cross-support. A big issue that came up was the “siloing” (I feel like that’s a hot-topic word of late) of artists. Painters stay in gallaries, musicians only go to music festivals, writers stay home in their pajamas and turn their ringer off. Yes. It’s hard to step outside of our own comfort zones within our art. But the beautiful thing about art, in any sphere, is just what I mentioned above. Art makes you think. Makes you question. Gets you outside of your world and asks you to see something new. To question. To feel. And those questions and feelings, especially when planted in the seed of another artistic mind, will lead to a garden of beautiful, unique and expansive ideas. If you’re familiar with ekphrastic work, you know that a painting can inspire a poem. A poem can become a song lyric. A song can drive the hand of a painter. We are not siloed, we are an expansive field of fertile and ready soil. And at the risk of sounding sensual, we should start cross-pollinating. Not only for the health and vitality of our own art, but to support the minds and hearts of people who share in our struggle and joy of being translators of the soul into art.

I am proud of the community of writers and poets I work with. I am overjoyed to meet the artists who paint, and draw, and sing, and perform. I love to know how art and passion move through their bodies, and to feel kindred in their drive to create something that feels like touching the deep truths of humanity and shared experience. My ask of you today, whether you write or not, is to find out more about the artists in your community. Go to their shows, follow them on line, support them with words and presence if you don’t have the funds. But let them know they’re important. That they are seen. Because artists see you. They work and create to bring us all closer to understanding each other. And that’s something worth leaving my pajamas for.

Two Ears, One Mouth: The Power of Listening for Writers

Posted on by sereichert

I know it’s been a pretty poetry-heavy blog of late and I’m honestly not apologetic about that. Poetry is a grace that fits into my life better these days. It’s more accessible to write, to slip my fingers into it’s lines, and to distill so many of the big and difficult feelings I’m currently holding. If you don’t poetry, you should. (Yes, it’s a verb, and a noun). But for today, I wanted to write about something I think is a skill whose value is immeasurable for writers.

The power to listen. Now, I’ve always been kind of a quiet kid (until I know you better, then good luck getting me to shut up) and was subjected to all kinds of comments. “Doesn’t she know how to talk?”, “I guess she’s just not much of a joiner, huh?”, “She’s so quiet.” All of this and more almost berated me into more silence until I was into my adulthood, and was forced to be more proactive in communicating. Still, to this day, in a large crowd of people, I prefer to be the one slinging one question into the crowd and then softly withdrawing to the sidelines to watch the frenzy.

Because I learn more this way.

First: I learn about character, history (or backstory), as well as flaws and strengths. In the listening to their words, their thoughts, their stories in total, yes, but also… I learn how they speak, I listen for intonations, and body cues. I listen for changes in pitch and pace, I listen for old dialects and idioms sneaking through. I listen with my eyes to watch the way their hands talk, their body nervous or posturing. I listen to the subtext of history behind it all. I learn about humans, and their story when I listen. And learning about humans is such a fundamental skill for writers to have. Not because we want to poach a character straight out of our monthly PTA meeting (well, maybe you do, I’m not here to judge) but so that when we sit down with our characters we can visualize them. As they are, with all of their imperfections and mannerisms, and really start to build a world true to what they’re saying in words, thoughts, and actions.

Second, and perhaps more utilitarian, I learn about the world. Listening to people opens me up to experiences and knowledge that I don’t have, maybe that I may have never even wondered about. And every story that settles into my encyclopedia brain is a new idea, a richer understanding of an old idea, and a bigger picture of this fantastical world. Every human being is a conduit to experience I don’t have enough years to gather myself. What a wonderful way to learn, am I right?

Third, and this is a natural consequence of the last point, listening to someone is a sign of respect, of interest, and on some level, love and acknowledgment of their existence, their struggle, and their worth in the world. More than just getting that character quirk you’ve been struggling with for months, or learning that a group of hippos is called a ‘bloat’, you are validating the experiences and importance of another person’s life. You are willingly giving them your time and attention (finite resources) and being present with them. That matters. More than just as a writer, but as a human being.

So–next time you’re in a crowd, writer… pay attention. Focus in, feel the presence of being in someone’s audience and listen to the story they show and tell you. It may lead to the next grand idea, it may help you unstick your work, or it may just help another human being feel seen.

Living in Abundance

Posted on by sereichert

I love this word. Abundance. Say it to yourself. Abundance. It feels full and heavy, it feels like satiation and potential. I love when my yoga teacher tells me to widen my stance, when bending forward to make space for my Abundance. It feels like a loving way to approach what we have, and to be content in our space.

As a creative, abundance is not something we may consider. In fact, if there’s anything a writer is good at, it’s practicing the fear of Abundances counter point; scarcity. Scarcity says that there won’t be a next idea. There won’t be a next poem or painting or song. Scarcity says you better hang on to this project and keep working on it, because it’s the only one you have. Scarcity will tell you lies of the well inside you, drying up. That once you expend so many words, there will be no more. Once you complete this idea, that will be the end of your road and maybe your career. So hang on, greedily to that idea, to that brilliant book proposal, that one perfect poem. It could be stolen or critiqued apart, or lost. Best to hold it close to you, where it maintains a certain pristine quality. Your precious.

The funny thing about scarcity, and abundance, is that they are both self- fulfilling states of being. When we hold on to one idea, one book, one poem…our hands are useless to catch more, to reach for more, to hold more. I know, its scary. To think that this might be your last, great idea. To let it go, either out into the world, or back into the drawer for a later date. It might feel (especially when you have been working on the same novel or project for years) that this is it. All you will ever be. All you will ever write. The great American novel, never to be surpassed. Perhaps you worry you’ll never write anything as good again ( I feel that, acutely friends) But I’m here to tell you from experience, that its a good time to look at it from a different perspective.

You see, your creativity and your potential to make more art, pursue different stories, write more…it’s endless. It is a bottomless well of energy. And even after we’re gone, the things that we put into the world spark more ideas, and more stories, so really…think of your writing and creativity as a river, not a stagnant pool. When you dam it up, from fear, from worry (I’ll never write another poem this good, my novel isn’t ‘ready’) stagnation will occur. It is the only idea (ie water) in your pond. Letting it go, releasing that barrier, putting it out, submitting it, allows the water to flow freely again.

Creativity, in this way, is abundant. It is a river that we dip our hands into and grasp the ideas that come our way, play with them, run with them, drink them in (don’t drink river water, please, giardia–Beaver Fever–is real) and then when its time, let them go down stream and sit along the banks for the next one to come along. And it will come.

How do we let go? We let others see it, we make the best changes we can and throw it out into the world. Be conscious that once you let it go, its a bird flown from the nest. It might come back to visit, but you are no longer it’s home, it belongs to the world now and you have a big beautiful space (time and mental playground) for the next hatchling.

I’ve used so many metaphors in this thing, I think I got lost myself. Rivers, birds, abundance. Always abundance. You have it. You have room for all the beautiful things in your brain and those that haven’t been found yet. So let go of the fear that you’ll dry up. Loosen your hands around your one great idea so you can embrace the potential of you.

Happy and Safe Pride

Posted on by sereichert

In honor of Pride Month and celebrating all of the amazing human beings, in their struggled to be themselves, live fully, and be safe from violence and oppression, I’m doing all I can to support LGBTQ+ writers and poets. Listed below are a group of wonderful authors and their work that you should check out. If you can buy from them directly do, and leave positive reviews if you have some to give. Each one is an opportunity to learn, to grow, to understand and to find connection. Not just this month, but every month. Enjoy and be the loving force for change you want to see in the world.

  • One Day I Will Write About This Place: A Memoir by Binyavanga Wainaina
  • As Beautiful as Any Other: A Memoir of My Body by Kaya Wilson
  • La Bâtarde by Violette Leduc, translated by Derek Coltman
  • The Truth About Me: a Hijra Life Story by A. Revathi, translated by V Geetha
  • The Sex Lives of African Women: Self-Discovery, Freedom, and Healing by Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah
  • The Pink Line: Journeys Across the World’s Queer Frontiers by Mark Gevisser
  • Modern Nature by Derek Jarman
  • My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi, translated by Jocelyne Allen
  • People Change by Vivek Shraya
  • Asylum: A Memoir & Manifesto by Edafe Okporo
  • Welcome to St. Hell: My Trans Teen Misadventure by Lewis Hancox
  • We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir by Samra Habib
  • Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke Emezi
  • The Other Side of Paradise by Staceyann Chin
  • Red Azalea by Anchee Min
  • Me Hijra, Me Laxmi by Laxminarayan Tripathi, translated by PG Joshi and R. Raj Rao
  • They Called Me Queer compiled by Kim Windvogel and Kelly-Eve Koopman
  • Unicorn: The Memoir of a Muslim Drag Queen by Amrou Al-Kadhi
  • Angry Queer Somali Boy: A Complicated Memoir by Mohamed Abdulkarim Ali
  • Thérèse and Isabelle by Violette Leduc, translated by Sophie Lewis (1966)
  • Maurice by EM Forster (1971)
  • Orlando: A Biography by Virginia Woolf (1928)
  • America is Not the Heart by Elaine Castillo
  • Hotel World by Ali Smith
  • Less by Sean Andrew Greer
  • The Price of Salt aka Carol by Patricia Highsmith
  • Valencia by Michelle Tea
  • Under the Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta
  • Paper is White by Hilary Zaid
  • Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg.
  • Orlando by Virginia Woolf
  • Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin
  • Sodom Road Exit by Amber Dawn
  • Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes by Tony Kushner
  • Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg
  • The Book of Salt by Monique Truong
  • Tea by Stacey D’Erasmo
  • Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters
  • Alice Isn’t Dead by Joseph Fink
  • Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson
  • Marriage of A Thousand Lies by SJ Sindu
  • Nightwood by Djuna Barnes
  • Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin
  • Close to Spider Man by Ivan E. Coyote
  • Jack Holmes and His Friend by Edmund White
  • A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood
  • Fruit by Brian Francis
  • Salt Fish Girl by Larissa Lai
  • Morrow Island by Alexis M. Smith
  • Pages for You by Sylvia Brownrigg
  • Confucius Jane by Katie Lynch
  • Little Fish by Casey Plett
  • Such a Lonely, Lovely Road by Kagiso Lesego Molope
  • She of the Mountains by Vivek Shraya
  • For Today I Am A Boy by Kim Fu
  • The Color Purple by Alice Walker
  • Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown
  • Disoriental by Négar Djavadi
  • Speak No Evil by Uzodinma Iweala
  • The Life and Death of Sophie Stark by Anna North
  • Never Anyone But You by Rupert Thomson
  • Hood by Emma Donoghue
  • Blue Boy By Rakesh Satyal
  • My Education by Susan Choi
  • Here Comes The Sun by Nicole Dennis-Benn
  • Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz
  • We Are Okay by Nina LaCour
  • Summer of Salt by Katrina Leno
  • 48 Shades Of Brown by Nick Earls
  • Call Me by Your Name by André Aciman (2007)
  • The Language We Were Never Taught to Speak by Grace Lau
  • Butcher by Natasha T. Miller
  • Water I Won’t Touch by Kayleb Rae Candrilli
  • The Renunciations by Donika Kelly
  • Bestiary by Donika Kelly
  • Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl by Andrea Lawlor
  • You Better Be Lightning by Andrea Gibson
  • Lord of the Butterflies by Andrea Gibson
  • Black Girl, Call Home by Jasmine Mans
  • Black Queer Hoe by Britteney Black Rose Kapri
  • If They Come for Us by Fatimah Asghar
  • Nothing is Okay by Rachel Wiley
  • Cenzontle by Marcelo Hernández Castillo
  • The Tradition by Jericho Brown
  • Soft Science by Franny Choi
  • Bodymap by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
  • Night Sky With Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong
  • When the Chant Comes by Kay Ulanday Barrett
  • More Than Organs by Kay Ulanday Barrett
  • Don’t Call Us Dead by Danez Smith
  • Things You Left Behind by Keondra Bills Freemyn
  • Femme in Public by Alok Vaid-Menon
  • Wild Embers by Nikita Gill
  • Chelsea Girls by Eileen Myles (1994)

BOOKS: POETRY

Poetry 5-22-25

Posted on by sereichert

I’m in a weird mood today. This is the season of transitions, of pressures and demands, and I feel like I’m shutting down in the face of so much of it. Here’s a weird poem to align the inner workings of my mind to the outer life, relentlessly attacking. 

Sweater

I put your memory on
like an old sweater
in all the little winters
of my despair

Here the arms pull through
to hide the stinging cuts
Here, ribbed neck fraying
to protect from the noose of loss

Here the cabled warmth
falling over my eviscerated belly
Here your memory tucks my vital pieces 
back together, safe and warm

The woolen comfort of words
I will never hear again
from nights you probably don't remember
a softness in the dark, held briefly

I am a lint fuzz on your shoulder
but you are my favorite sweater
the one I cannot sleep without
the only thing that offers relief

Purpose and hope exist
in the scratchy bulk
of a garment I once borrowed
but was never mine to wear

I put your memory on
like my favorite sweater
in all these winters
of self-imposed despair.

I saved an earthworm…

Posted on by sereichert

To be exact, they were what I would deem a “nightcrawler”. On my rainy walk, with my rescue dog River, and her distaste for the wet (I think it’s the pit bull in her mix) we encountered the large under-dweller, struggling against the asphalt. I watched for a moment. Remembering, that as a child growing up in a dry state (Wyoming), we rarely saw worms that size. If ever you did, was a good omen to gardeners and those were the ones you never took fishing. I bent down lower than my 45 year old knees liked and gently picked up its twisting body, and placed them gently in my palm where it squirmed for freedom, even from a small safety. The rain poured down around us and I let myself feel all of the tickling, wriggling, slightly slimy motion of a life in peril. I took them tenderly towards the grass and out of the space where tomorrow’s sun on the blacktop would bake them, and set them down.

“There you go buddy, good luck.” I said and a woman walking her dog on the sidewalk, moved carefully away from me.

Why don’t we care for things anymore? When did we become so crass? How is it we have become too busy to save even the smallest of consciousnesses? I’ve been thinking a great deal about ‘modern’ life these days, and how less like actual life it feels. “Life” is suddenly something we are fed, by those who control the information. Life is on screens, and filtered to be pretty, it’s reductive, or ridiculous. Competitive and unrealistic. It’s shallow and degrading. When was the last time you held something in your hand that was real? A worm? Your child’s hand? Dirt from your garden? A pen? An apple? Someone you loved (known or in secret) arms wrapped tight and trying to stop time, just for a minute? When did you notice last, a being in struggle? Did you stop? Did you help?

I no longer want to be part of an unreal world. I don’t have years to waste on anything not authentic. What is the point? If I only have so many days, why would I spend them sucked into an algorithm? I want to hear my friend’s voices. I want to read their handwriting. I want to see them across a table or next to me on a walk. I don’t want to be force fed advertising, and told that I need wrinkle cream. As though the natural progression of my body is not something to rejoice in and enjoy. I don’t want to be told in spiraling doom scroll what this world amounts to in the number of likes or angry faces it has. Watch the volley of hatred and hurtful ignorance between neighbors be slung around like poisoned arrows. See artists reduced to fodder for machines, and the brainwashing of it all being NECESSARY, take us over, as though we have no choice in the matter. How can we really justify, as artists, “needing” a platform that abuses and misuses our hard work? I can’t. I never had any big hopes of making it in the industry anyway, so I’m not going to keep buying into a system of false promises, while it robs me of my creativity and passion.

We haven’t always been this way. Don’t you remember?

I know I will miss out. Your faces, your lives, the beauty of your progression in the world. I will not see you. I won’t get to laugh at your memes or comfort you in times of loss. But I will think of you. Just because I’m not there, posting weird writing shit, or poetry, or my bastard of a cat…I am here, thinking about you. Whether we’ve been friends since the fourth grade, or you just joined my writing group, or you read my books, or you gave birth to me…I love you. You don’t need the algorithm to tell you that. You don’t need Facebook as a go-between to keep us connected. I’m here. Loving you. Hoping good things for you. Wishing you a day better than you thought it would be, every day. Each one of you. No likes necessary.

I feel a bit like Neo. Taking the pill. To wake back up to what is real. And it’s scary. And I don’t know if I’ll just be forgotten. Maybe I will. But I suppose the hearts that forget me, I never really had residence in to begin with. Today’s the last day and I’m a little scared. The connection it offered was wonderful, the addiction it’s brought me to and the worry it sustains, is not healthy. For any of us. Here’s where you can find me:

  • BlueSky: @sereichertauthor
  • SubStack: @sarahreichertauthor
  • Website: https://www.sarahreichertauthor.com
  • email: director@writingheights.com
  • Address (I love letters and will send you one if you provide a return address): NCW, 4128 Main St, #144, Timnath, Colorado 80547

I hope I see you in the real life. I hope you find the balance you need. I hope you don’t give in to the idea that you’re data points and not a living, breathing, squirming, fighting, good-omen of humanity. I won’t be there anymore, but I’ll be around.

Photo by Grafixart_photo Samir BELHAMRA on Pexels.com

Poetry 4-10-2025

Posted on by sereichert 
The Other Half Lives

She breaks the silence
with the crack of a match strike
instant whirl of smoke
and snap
open jumps the flame

She’s Magic on dark nights
when I need reprieve
from myself
when I yearn
to slip into someone
else’s skin and be
the one my parents
warned me about

The kind who lives truth
through match strikes
and bared teeth and
hard, dirty alleys
rough brick scraping
backs of thighs
and halting breath
that never begs

Unleashed from boredom
She carries the burning ember of strife
at the end of her cigarette and
coaxes the glowing cinder with
deep inhalations
Blowing out sinuous tails
through lips
split by love

Back again for more?
Quirked eyebrow, pierced and dauntless

yes, again
pray unbroken lips
with underground currents
of tightly wound desire.

S.E. Reichert

What’s Coming Up This Month

Posted on by sereichert

Hey kids, it’s your monthly reminder of some cool stuff happening in my world and for writers everywhere.

First, this month on the 29th, Writing Heights Writers Association will be hosting its monthly classes. For the morning class, I’ll be teaching a super fun workshop on how to apply Gothic style and themes to every genre. We’ll be talking about the history of the style as well as how it applies to character, social commentary, and the prevailing themes that can enhance every genre. The afternoon class will be “Hiding the Bodies: Enliven Your Writing with Exquisite Corpse and Ekphrastic Poetry” with Chris Guppy and it should be a really fun and interesting day of class. I hope you are all able to come.

Remember, these are virtual so you can attend from anywhere (keep in mind its 10 and 12 MST). You don’t have to be a member to join and they’re inexpensive for quality classes. You can register here: MARCH CLASSES.

Remember, if you are a writer, of any level, and you have information to share with your writing community, send us in a proposal. It doesn’t have to be writing specific, and we’re always looking for ways to expand our knowledge and make cool connections with the arts and the business side of writing. You can send in your proposals HERE.

Next up…let’s see. I’ll be rearranging the Youth class this next month to accommodate Passover, more on that in my social feeds and on the website. I will also be looking for a new person to run the Youth Class for Writing Heights as I’m currently kicking my own ass with being over scheduled.

Speaking of that, I have a book coming out in May! And pre sales really matter. So if you wanted to get a copy, you can preorder it HERE. I’ll also be running a special pre-order package where I’ll send you the book, signed, and some goodies to go along with it, exclusive to those preorder packages only. I’ll keep you up to date on that as I have more details from my publisher.

I’m running a writing retreat in May (the 11th through the 14th) in Allenspark, Colorado. It will feature a flexible schedule of two different tracks. One for Memoir, one for Craft/Creativity. There will be time for critique as well as time to get some of your own writing done. Private rooms are a little expensive, but all prices include your food and room as well as the high-quality instruction, morning yoga, and some some of the coolest people I know.

I’ll be at the Mesa Verde Literary Festival (and writers conference) on July 9th-12th and also at Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Conference in September. More on the classes I’ll be teaching and workshops I’ll be running later.

Other than that, I’m working on finishing up a Christmas-but-not-Hallmark holiday novel and hoping to start edits on my next series soon with 5 Prince Publishing.

My oldest is getting ready to graduate so May will be full with three major things happening all at once (I did it all to myself so there’s no real way to complain about it) If you have a hard time getting a hold of me, trust that I’m just trying to keep my head above water.

Hope to see you in some classes and some book signings soon!