Writing Journal Entry: Bleeding Writer

As I am a writer

The ink is my blood

I bleed words

With pain and sadness

With joy and happiness

With hope to build a home

And love to heal the world

And with romance,

Well--

Let's leave that for space

For that alone can contain

All our romantic fantasy.

~Bleeding Writer by Marietta DeGrant // Writing Journal Entry

Unfiltered Work: The Galaxies in Her Eyes (Blogtober Day 10)

The streets was her home, but she had dream that was too heavy for the universe to carry.

“I will be a writer one day”, she told me, showing me a list of dreams in very bad handwriting. “I will write of the people walking on the street, wearing suits but struggling to live.”

“I will write of the rich looking man well dressed in expensive clothes but suffering from hypertension and diabetes. I will tell my readers never to envy them.”

I watched her eyes sparkle as she watches people pass by. All she had was her little luggage. Life was hard for her at the moment but she knew things will get better.

“Will you write about your eyes, the way they always sparkle when you are excited? The galaxies in her eyes?”

She paused, then shook her head.

“No,” she said, then swallowed hard. “I won’t do that.”

“Why not?” I asked, shocked at her answer.

She looked into my eyes. I was blinded by her galaxies. “Because no one would like to read the story of a girl living in the streets. They all know the struggles of a girl living on the streets. But they don’t know the struggles of a man living the life.”

Poems You Might Have Missed On My Instagram (Blogtober Day 9)

Hello world!

Happy Thursday! Meaning one more day to the weekend…again. I really need this weekend to catch up with work, and life. So, hurry weekend and please come.

If only I don’t end up like this👇

Lolz xx

Anyway, I sometimes post my poetry on Instagram. If you aren’t following me already, hit follow; @MarieNoelGrant.

Have a nugget of poetry from the Marietta DeGrant Poetry collection. 

Also, don't forget 👇👇👇

To vote for me as Most Influential Student Blogger/Writer by text MBA MARIETTA to 1736 on all networks👍👍👍

Thankies💋💋💋

Walking Library (Blogtober Day 3)

She was a library. A novel maniac. All her inside curls up when she sees new novels in stores or when they are displayed on a shelf that has Reduced to Clear signs on top of them. Her heart beats a rhythm not yet known to the world, and her mind goes on a trip to wonderland.

The beauty of the display, the smell of books, the atmosphere of a bookstore. She could live in bookstores forever. She sees stories floating in the air, calling her to come over and make friends with the characters, or visit unknown locations. She eats novels, drinks novels, sleep on bookshelves, but do not bring novels out as waste, which is the only most pathetic part of her life.

“Reading novels is the cheapest way to travel”, she always says. Whoever she is quoting, I disagree.

She makes friends with the characters and understands them. She cries with them, laughs with them. See goose pimples on her, and we all know that, she has read a kissing scene. She fell in love with a character once, we felt scared for her. We all thought, she would not go back to normal. She even told us of a dream where they met and went on romantic dates. A few days later, we gave her another novel and she forgot all about her fictional lover.

But we regretted doing that. She hated the villain so much, she tore the book into two. We became more terrified than the moment when she fell in love with a character.

She would cry when the protagonist was in serious pain or was heartbroken. Her appetite would betray her and she would voluntarily fast, but this time, without a religious or health purpose.

I always felt she was supposed to be in a novel. A fictional character who is hopelessly romantic but a loner, just like Charlie Chaplin. I always felt, she did not belong to this world, but in a pen, yet to be poured out in a book, to be published and make another reader cry, laugh and dance with her.

“Would you like to be a writer, Awo?” I once asked her. She stared at me for a moment, then laughed. Laughed so hard, I felt foolish and just laughed with her.

“There’s no need,” she finally said, after having a plate of laughter and a glass of tears. “There are no more stories again. I’ve read a zillion novels, baby, and almost a quarter of them have the same plot, but with different settings and different character names. There’s no new place to travel to. Just visiting the same life but meeting new people, you know.”

And for once in my life, I totally agreed with her. Just living the same life, but making new friends.

I never had a problem with Awo. I liked her, because she was the weirdest person I have ever met in my life. She narrates to you the stories she had read for free. You do not need to buy novels if she is your friend. She’s also the cheapest bookstore I have ever known.

p.s. Don't forget to vote. Text MBA MARIETTA to 1736. Thanks😚😚😚

My Writer’s Notebooks

 I have a confession to make. Actually, it is not a confession. I was born like that. I am obsessed with notebooks. (Stationery in general)

I have kept so many notebooks since I started to write. The sight of notebooks with so many blank pages makes my skin grow goosebumps. Every page has an adventure to help us cherish every word written on it.

I am still an old fashioned writer. I still write in notebooks. I am trying to love the digital way of writing. When I was interviewing Krizick, he told me he loved the digital way of writing. I am trying to learn that way of writing digital, but don’t think I will be feeling the vibes while doing that. The probability that I will be adapting that strategy would be low.

I introduce to you, my 2017 writer’s notebook.

Well, it is not exactly a new notebook. I had this notebook in High School, I saw my friend, Vanessa (Hi! Vanessa, if you are reading this) holding it (It was originally for her) and I begged her to give it to me. She gave it to me and I wrote my favourite quotes in them. But I don’t do that anymore and I decided to use it as my writer’s journal/notebook. There are so many blank pages in it right now, and I want to exhaust them with my words. Using this would be better than buying a new one. (To be honest, I might just go on to buy new ones. Remember what I said in the beginning of this post?).

I decided to cover it with brown paper and put some of the words that describe my personality; Like Dreamer, Born in the 90’s. If you look closely, you’ll see kelewele. (Oops. My bad). Hashtag (#) is the new way of talking on social media in our generation.

My writer’s notebooks are where I hide my writings. Maybe, I’ll bring them out.

Let’s Chat: Do you have any obsessions over stationery?

Do you keep notebooks where you write your heart out, whether you are a writer, or not?

add this to your weekend plans

Hello world

Are you thinking of what to be doing this weekend? Then make us a priority this Friday?

Wait what?

Yeah. Other writers and I wrote some plays and they would be performed on Friday!

Yes! This Friday, baby!

The theme of this festival of plays is An African Walks into a Voting Booth, and it is hosted by the Accra Theatre Workshop.

At where?

Nubuke Foundation.

Tickets would be sold at the gate. It starts at 7:30pm.

Come and let’s watch how Ghanaians behave during the elections.

See you there! Don’t miss it!

FLASH FICTION: SNOOZE

I submitted this flash fiction to a publication about two years ago, and it was rejected. So I decided to publish it here. As for my blog, nothing gets rejected. I have all power here. Lolz xx.

Don’t really mind me. *wink*wink*

SNOOZE

Alarm goes off at 5am sharp. She hated that sound. Where did the 8 hours of sleep run to? But if it was Public Administration class, time would just decide to go slow. She stretched out her arm and fumbled around for where she thought the snooze button was on her phone. Her class doesn’t start till 7:30am anyway.

The alarm silences and she left out a sigh of relief. Ah, more sleep. She allowed her heavy lids drift shut for a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes, she promised herself.

She was having the best dream ever and she wouldn’t let Calculus class ruin it. Calculus! The course she feared. Well, she’s doing something about it. Having study groups and seeking assistance from the cutest most intelligent boy in class, so what there’s to worry?

Her dream was about her tour. She was on center stage, the perfect hair blowing in every direction. She sang and her audience waved their hands and moved to her music, shouting and screaming her name, singing along with her. She had the best fans in the world. She wanted to be a singer and she admired Kaakie in everything. She read Science at the university just to impress her family. She had her own dreams.

One of her fans ran to the stage and hugged her tight, then tapped her on her back.

“Peggy…..Peggy?” Everything started to fade away, but she was hearing her name.

“Peggy?.........Peggy?................wake up”

“Huh?”

“Peggy, don’t you have a class this morning?”

She opened her eyes and saw her roommate staring at her.

“I thought you said you have Calculus class on Fridays.” Akua, her roommate said. She stretched, grabbed her phone and gasped.

7:15am

She startled awake and let herself have a mini panic attack. As she was searching for the snooze button earlier at 5, her finger accidentally turned the alarm off altogether.

She rushed to the bathroom and cursed herself. After less than 5 minutes, she came out, put on her tracksuit and took her bag, shoving her Calculus book and calculator into it.

“What about Calculus class?” Akua asked.

She began combing her rigid her. “I’m on my way.”

“In tracksuit?” her roommate asked, puzzled.

Peggy smiled. “Let’s just pretend, I’m just from the gym.” She picked up her bag and headed for class. 

The Story of a Half Painted Wall

The wall always knew that even though he is not fully painted and it has been left there for years now, he would be a freshly painted wall and people would admire the beautiful colour he displays. He would be smooth and made fine. People would stand in front of him to take pictures.

He is a half painted wall, and a half painted wall’s unfinished beauty is not appreciated. The rain comes down and washes away the little beauty he has. He always cries for the touch of a brush, for a painter to take him as a canvas and turn him into art. He yearns for the romantic stroke of a painter’s roller, to turn him into beauty and a dream.

He wants to feel the wetness of an emulsion paint, to attract sunshine and feel like home. He prays for a painter to take him as he is now, and turn him into something the painter would be proud of. He wishes for a person to lean against him, so that he can feel what the person is thinking.

This is the story of a half painted wall.

Poetry: Dream Of Me

Do you dream of me?

When you close your eyes, do you dream of me?

When you hear my name, do you dream of me?

Do you dream of my smiles?

Do you dream of my laughter?

Do you dream of my tears?

Do you dream of my touch?

My caress

My squeeze

My complaints

My annoyance

Do you dream of my prayers for you?

My fast for you?

Do you dream of my love for you?

My want of you?

My need of you?

When you see my face, do you dream of me?

When you hear my voice, do you dream of me?

Do you dream of my mistakes?

My imperfections

My downfall

My adversary

My adversity

When you see my lips, do you dream of my kisses?

My soft whisperings

My lullaby

When you see my eyes, do you dream of my tears?

My joy

My sadness

My little white lies

When you see my heart, do you dream of my love for you?

My anger

My heavenly peace

When you see me, do you dream of my feelings?

My excitement

My shiver

Do you ever dream of me?

Blog Announcement !!!

Hello world!

How is your day going? Great, right? Or not so great. I'm having a great me-time this long vac and I'm slowly crossing out my long vac bucket list.

Anyway, I have an announcement to make.

Everyone has heard of tumblr, right? (Like....duh) Who hasn't? I remember it became so huge when I was a teenager, everyone was having an account. So I made one, but the sad thing is I didn't know what to use it for. Yes, you heard me. I created it when I was in secondary school but had no idea what to use it for. But my account is  not dead. I still remember my username and password.

But........ I've gotten an idea.

I now know what to use it for.

World, I'm using my tumblr account for my literary works.

There, I would be posting my short stories, poems and other literary works of mine. That little space of the internet would be used for that.

That's right. But even though, that place would be used for that, I'll still be posting them here again, because this blog was originally used for my literary works before it turned into a "literary/lifestyle " blog.

So head over to Marietta's Literary Bag for a more experience of literary works of Marietta DeGrant.

It just got better.

Have a blessed day!

My Life As A Writer

I started the habit of writing when I was about 3 or 4 years old. I started by writing how I spent the day with my dad. I used to go out a lot with my dad when I was a kid.

I write for the fun of it and I hope of making it Big anytime soon. Currently, I write novels (unpublished), poems, short stories, fan fiction, flash fiction, blog posts etc. When I was a teenager, I was writing for the Teen Ink website. It was amazing being on this site where creativity of writing, art, music and drama were shared.

I wouldn't say that I don't suffer from writer's block at times. When I get that annoying situation, I listen to music or read magazines or sometimes go for a walk. That's the only way I get cured from such a disease.
I don't just get up and say I'm writing a story or poetry. It comes in step by step, minute by minute, or day after day.

My strength as a writer is the ability to get ideas. Weakness? Putting them on paper exactly as I have imagined or how I want it to be.

Writing is something I enjoy doing as a hobby and I'm ever ready to help people in their writing life, though I am trying so hard to be at least good in it.

When I was a kid, I used to write diary entries, fan fiction and collaborative writing with my brothers. For fan fiction, I wrote about Michael Jackson and I, Jackie Chan and I. I featured in Peter Pan, Mickey Mouse and the Adventures of Tintin.

I started poetry and short stories when I entered secondary school. And I was surrounded by people who wrote stories also, so that motivated me, even though some students told me I was wasting my time because I was a Science student. I got discouraged for some time, but I jumped into the writing circle again, covering my ears.

I love surrounding myself with creative people, motivators and those who loved literary works.
My inspiration in writing.......LIFE. Life itself inspires me. Life is one big something, so I get loads of stuff from it. I just thank God for giving me such a talent and I hope in making it a beautiful talent to acquire, cherish and appreciate.

I have written unpublished fiction novels for about 3 people, with each of them as a protagonist in their own book. After writing it, I gave it to them, but believe me, I've forgotten what they were about.

I hope to publish or make my works movies. It is one of my dreams to be a best selling author, an excellent film maker, a music video director and get poetry in motion.

I used to write under a pseudonym, MarieNoël and Pink Butterfly. But I don't do that anymore.

Last year, I was lucky to feature on the Ghana Writers Project on Citi FM radio and I wish to do it again.
Writing is my bag and I'll be a world famous author.

Annoucement + Tips

I have a huge announcement to make. (To me, it’s huge. Some of you might have done this before).

You ready?

I’m going to feature on a radio show! On Citi FM

And I’m freaking out.

I've read the mail like a thousand times

 First, I was like

• I'm gonna be a celebrity
• My next boyfriend would be known as the celebrity's boyfriend
• Hello world, I'm the next Maya Angelou

Then I went on feeling like

OMG my stomach ( Nervousness set in ). What am I going to say? How would my voice sound like? What if I do bloopers? Yikes, yikes, yikes.

The Writers Project of Ghana (WPG) is an international literary organization based in Ghana and the United States. WPG was founded in 2009 (as the Ghana Poetry Project) by Martin Egblewogbe and Laban Carrick Hill in order to promote a literary culture in Africa and around the world through creative writing workshops, discussion groups, public readings, online publishing, and the establishment of a small press.

The Writers Project of Ghana is a charitable organization dedicated to helping Ghanaian writers explore and affirm their identity and culture. In order to achieve these goals, WPG is dedicated to reaching out to all Ghanaian writers through our various programs and activities. Currently we offer public readings and poetry recitals, a weekly live-on-air radio program, and writing workshops, among others.

Check out more about them here

 So, because I want to be super ready, I checked online tips to be a good radio show guest and I want to share.

• Be early. Get to the place at least 2 hours before the start of the show.
• Have a page of notes. List your key points in bullets so that you won’t forget anything important.
• Speak mindfully. Pay attention to each word that comes out of your mouth. Avoid um, uh, ya know, like etc
• Be careful of what you say. Remember, it is a live coverage.
• Prepare, prepare, prepare
• Relax and enjoy the show.

Have any of you feature on a radio show. Please share your experience and tips.

Wish me luck.

Be checking out on Twitter and facebook for the countdown to the show.

Shimmer and Sparkle,

Marietta (MarieNoel)