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Quenntis Ashby's Blog

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Dec.21.2010
I am ready now. Waiting. Ready. Wanting to start writing my novel, but unable to do so at the moment. What? Is this the normal way things progress? Being prepared and then being sidetracked? Hmmm. Other responsibilites crowd in on me and I'm left busy doing things I have to do instead of doing the...
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Dec.20.2010
I've recently finished the outline of my next novel, "Swansung." I didn't want to start writing it until I found the complete Swan Lake ballet music. Last night my wife and I went hunting around and actually found the 2 CDs. Now I've got the sound track for my novel writing experience in...
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Dec.19.2010
Rambling Poets at Cafe Cyber
I've created a preview of our upcoming publication, "Rambling Poets at Cafe Cyber." Seven of us collaborated over 8 months to write the poems. We spend another 4 months doing the page layouts, getting permission to use photos and art work, collaborating on every detail to ensure we could...
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Dec.19.2010
I love the start of a new year. Not the fireworks and the countdown, but the promise of new beginnings and a fresh start. I love drawing up lists of things I want to achieve in the year, and things I want to improve in my life. I usually start this early (as you probably note by by post today)......
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Dec.19.2010
My pregnant wife and I had a fantabulous photo shoot last night. We had our faces done up and our hair curled and we put on some clothes and stood/lay/sat/posed in a photo studio for almost two hours. A truly wonderful experience! Can't wait to see the photos in about a week's time.
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Dec.16.2010
The grid of numbers shuffles itself, A sight to see with crossed eyes and fingers, Until at last the red buttons are depressed.   Numbers printed on glittering gold balls, Pop into view and then into hearing And then into little matching boxes.   A thousand Santas sweat it out Until at...
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Dec.15.2010
And with the colors come the numbers, Dancing and flickering strobe-lighting him into a daze As he tries to count from one again, But the number of fingers on two hands Are not enough to count on When you don’t have hands, When where your hands used to be There are now just six sharp shiny...
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Dec.14.2010
Their ears point up because they don’t point down And because they disagree with gravity And other heavy matters. With eleven days to go With the big twinkly show They turn off the snow And pack up their troubles in glittering boxes. The strike is on And the big man in red is left alone With too...
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Dec.13.2010
12 days to Christmas and the lights and the music and the spirits are stirring; elves in their pointy ears and hats, trees hold out their hands - wearing stars and angels as caps, bells ding-a-ling-a-ding-dong in tinkling metal voices while kids draw up lists for a Santa they don't believe in and...
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Dec.11.2010
The multiple division of our attention Gives everything a sheen of unimportance The crying baby needs feeding and burping And that must-see movie on TV Broken into sections by mindless ads With addictive jingles that force a replaying echo in your ear What about checking your son’s homework while...
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Dec.11.2010
man
Man clad in E Mane grown wild Mean beyond reason Name cloaked in E Forgotten Rotten to your core of disbeliefs Forgotten Shutting open doors Sealing fates and destinies Spitting in the eyes of the gods Cursing the heavens and the hells Refusing to open your black heart Rotting in disbelief Man...
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Dec.09.2010
An update concerning our latest poetry project..  Well, I nervously pressed that left mouse button, it clicked, and the pointer did it's more-than-pointing thing. Presto! I uploaded "Rambling Poets at Cafe Cyber" to the Createspace website on behalf of 7 poets who'd written the book over...
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Dec.07.2010
On November 25th, 2009, Zan McDowell started a poetry thread on Authonomy.com. 26,000 views and 8 months later with no end in sight, she contacted the other 6 main contributors and asked if they'd like to publish the thread as a global poetic conversation. The answer was a resounding YES. I took...
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Nov.30.2010
I sighing with my last breath left my lungs deflated like that popped balloon I dived into the unknown void but the reverse black hole spat me back out like a bitter pill unable to be swallowed rejected by the thing I feared the most left my ego flat like that rat on Highway 69   II...
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Nov.29.2010
The story I wanted to tell through my novel got hijacked by the story I needed to tell, had to tell. I wanted to write a simple story of a grandfather who was the last writer on earth, as literacy and the creation of new literary work was pretty much a taboo thing to do. Instead I wrote the story...
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