I debated writing an end of year post. I have been in what feels like an endless sinking, felt myself fading so rapidly as the days drag forward, bringing me closer to 50 and what I imagined would be an overwhelming disappointment in who I have become. But, then I stepped back, allowed myself to refocus, to see beyond the sadness that I write about so frequently, and breathe in the joy of my life, which I probably don’t write about often enough. Continue reading “The Year Through RP Eyes”
I was thrilled to be a part of the Invisible Vision Project’s interview series! My huge thanks to the creator, Xin Sun!
Welcome to The Invisible Vision Project’s Blog, and welcome back to another episode of Guest Blogger Interview. Currently we are at episode #5! Today’s guest blogger is Susan Richardson, she is a poet and a writer that also happens to be blind. Her blog is called: Stories From the Edge of Blindness. Without further ado, let’s get right into the interview!
- Please briefly introduce yourself.
First, I want to thank Xin Sun for this incredible opportunity to be a part of her interview series. It is a huge honor!
My name is Susan Richardson. I am a poet and writer living in the belly of Hollywood. I also have Retinitis Pigmentosa, am legally blind and write a blog called Stories from the Edge of Blindness.
- What are your hobbies and interests?
I love to read poetry and fiction, and have also recently gotten into listening to podcasts, primarily…
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This may be the most personal post I have ever written. I write about a lot of personal things. I write about depression from within the depths of it. I write about blindness and fear. But, I don’t write about what exists within all of these things, what creeps in through any crack that appears, what has been bred for years inside the very essence of who I am. Shame. Continue reading “Shame”
It was my pleasure and honor to be asked by Bryan to be a guest on his blog while he has been recovering from knee surgery. Bryan is an extraordinary writer and a truly good person, who I am grateful to have as a friend, teacher and mentor! He will be back next week and if you by chance haven’t had the pleasure of reading his blog, pop over and check it out; you will be so glad you did!
I want to thank the people who took the time to guest post on my blog. These past two weeks my mind has not been in a writing mode. With the help of K.M. Allan, J.A. Sullivan, Paul and Susan, you’ve kept this little blog of mine going.
I cannot thank you enough.
On a personal note I am now off Oxycodone and because of that my writer’s mind has returned. Life will return to normal next week as I return to my blog and my second novel.
Get ready for some really cool hospital stories.
Until then I would like to introduce a favorite person of mine who will be sharing her thoughts on my Friday’s post.
I remember the day I met Susan. I was reading a post from a blog that I follow. I remember commenting on the topic and decided to see…
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My contribution to this months Visual Verse challenge went in a very unexpected direction. It is one of those poems you write and have absolutely no idea where it came from. If you would like to read it, you can do so here.
If you haven’t submitted your response this month, there is still time. You can submit until the 15th of the month!
I was taking a break. I am…..taking a break, stepping away from myself. Or so I thought. I realized it is impossible. I am always around. I can’t step out of my skin or get out of my head. I can’t erase my years or escape the barbs of the fence I have been forced to traverse. No matter how much I want it, I can’t be anyone but me.
I felt better for a few days. I danced and felt the life in my blood and in my breath. But, it seems the good is always fleeting. I find myself feeling so heavy and motionless again, my breath weighing me down, my feet nailed to the earth. I sit here and think about writing and stare at the wall and wish I could dissolve into the air, slip free from the shackles that constrict my motion and incapacitate my thoughts.
I got a rejection this morning that hit me so hard. I knew it was coming, and yet when it came, I felt the wind knocked out of me. Stupidly, I thought if my poetry was accepted for this particular issue of this particular magazine, it would mean my poetry has value. I know it doesn’t work that way. I just got my mind wrapped so tightly around the idea, it was hard to let go. Joe helped me see that it was never the magazine that mattered, but the poems themselves. Some of the poems in this particular submission were some of the hardest I have ever written, took more out of me that most. I suppose I felt as if my hardest work ended up being crap. I know it doesn’t work that way. Intellectually, I get it. Emotionally, I am swallowing glass.