Your muse, your inspiration, do you have a person, place or time that you draw inspiration from?

I have several muses, that have grown silent lately.

My first crush, from fifth grade throughout high school, and even today, is still a constant source of inspiration. Most of my happier, romantic type material comes from her. I could easily write page after page about what she meant and means to me. We are still friends but live many miles away from each other.

My depression is another source of inspiration. The dark, emotional pain filled material…which taints most of my writings, and my views, spews forth from here. I’m glad to be out of the void of depression but at the same time…I miss it. I miss the connectivity to all emotions…the pain, truly wretched darkness… it destroys so much.

Music has been a muse for me as long as I can remember. I love music. I play it, listen to it, and write it. It’s an amazing thing to see a song come to life. Listening to it with a pen in hand sometimes opens up creativity in flashes so strong and complete. It’s not often that I complete a work in a single sitting, when I do, music is always playing. (Usually a single song on repeat.)

Most of what I write gets a mix of all three muses. My trouble, lately, is not that they have grown silent, as I stated earlier, but more that I have grown hard of hearing them. Binge watching television series episodes on Blu-ray has drowned out all other voices. Working 13 days straight with one day off in a repeating cycle leaves me with wanting cheap entertainment instead of diving into creative working with words and emotions. I’m tired and lazy, I suppose. I want to write but I don’t want to write…not right now.

My question for you is, how do I break free from this creative laziness? Any suggestions?

© 2018 Grabbety Covens

A Not So Short Story

This week’s theme is short stories of life in a dollhouse…here is my version that didn’t get quite so short…I’ll continue this…it’s fun! I was pressed for time as my life is hectic but (sorry for any typos), I hope you enjoy:

Logan opens his eyes…a plastic ceiling greets his view. He turns his head to see…Barbie?…lying beside him.

“What the fuck?” he grumbles.

He turns to see there is no wall…just the huge face what appears to be the largest human girl he has ever seen.

He jumps out of bed; his adamantium claws already out and ready for battle.

“No sir, Wolverine! That’s not nice!” the gigantic girl says. Her voice is like rolling thunder…well, high pitched thunder. She extends her hand towards him and he slashes at her finger to find it does no damage.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaims.

“Ah! You said the f-word!” her thunderous girlie voice rumbles through the plastic Barbie house. “I’m telling Mom that Johnny taught you bad words,” she says as she picks Wolverine off the plastic floor.

Logan thrashes but to no avail. The gigantic child is impervious to any harm, and he is powerless against her.

“I borrowed you from him after he took Ken and blew him up. He said he was trying to disarm a bomb from Cobra Commander…Ken is a surfer not a bomb technician! Anyway, a bottle rocket is not an IDE…or what ever Johnny said it was! Ken never had a chance! He just hovered over the grass before…POW!”

Tears well up in her eyes and Logan’s only thoughts are, “What the fuck?!”

“Ken was so handsome. Barbie really loved him and Johnny took him from her. So now you are her new husband. Don’t worry. There isn’t anyone here named Magnet or Magento, or whoever Johnny said to pull out your Adamantium. Barbie will get used to your beard.”

“What the fuck?!” Logan screams.

“Really Wolverine?! Is that all you know how to say?! Well?! Is it?!”

“What the fuck are you talking about giant bitch girl!” Logan screams as he continues to wrestle against her fingers grasping him tightly.

“Barbie and I will not tolerate that language, sir. You’re supposed to be a gentleman and love her. You’ll buy her nice things like flowers, chocolates, diamond rings, and cars. You don’t ever swear at her or call her fat. Do you understand?! She can be as late as she needs to be. You’re only job is to understand and hug her and call her beautiful,” she says as she reaches for a pair of finger nail clippers. “I’m going to cut these claws of yours off so you can’t hurt Barbie.”

“No the fuck you’re not!” Logan screams.

“Wolverine! You stop cursing! I tell you what, if you promise to never say the f-word again I’ll leave these but, if I hear you talk like that again buddy, they are gone. Do you hear me little man?!”

“Who the f…um…what gives you the right?!”

“I am more powerful than you can possibly comprehend, Wolverine. I am a woman. You just do what I say and everything will be ok, got it?”

“What the f…” the clippers come closer. “Future holds…what the future holds for me and Barbie is happily ever after. That’s what I was going to say,” Logan says.

“Huh uh…I knew you’d see things my way. I have these clothes from Ken’s surfer wardrobe…let’s see if something fits…”

“What the… I am a superhero and I wear this hero uniform, bi…uh, what’s your name?”

“My name is Bethany,” she says with a smile.

“Well, Bethany, my name is Logan.”

“Logan?! I thought Johnny said your name is Wolverine.”

“Well, I go by Wolverine, too. My friends call me Logan.”

“Oh! Are you saying we’re friends now?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say friends, really. Decent acquaintances.”

“Well, I don’t know what that means but, it sounds special.”

“Oh, it’s special alright…”

“Well you listen here mister, the only special relationship you’ll have is with Barbie!”

Logan turns a his head and looks at Barbie…a plastic doll lying in a plastic bed. “Uh…listen kid, Bethany…does Barbie just lie there doing nothing?

Cause my last girl friend did that and…, I mean, uh…”

To be continued…

© 2018 Grabbety Covens

Give Yourself A Break

I want to share a secret with you guys.

I’m exhausted.

All the time.

I sit at work sometimes nearly falling asleep at my desk.

I’m not always like this. Sometimes it can be attributed to depression but sometimes I just have to take a break.

A couple weeks ago my alarm went off and try as I might, I just could not haul myself out of bed.

I laid in bed so long my dogs protested their lack of outside time and food.

I laid in bed so long my daughter woke up and thought “maybe it’s Saturday” (it was not).

I laid in bed so long my normally dark mornings turned light and my alarm cycled through all the snoozes and all the alarms I set.

Continue reading “Give Yourself A Break”


It’s rare, in my experience, that life ever stays calm, easy, flowing, and a breeze to maneuver. It’s usually quite the opposite. As a matter of fact, I get rather anxious if things do go right…why? ‘Cause I know the other shoe is about to drop…

I just recently suffered a devastating blow. A dear friend, and family member died in his sleep, unexpectedly. He was only two years older than I. He died alone. Just as his mother had. You see, he had taken care of his mother for many years. He had desperately needed a night to himself…so he took one. His mother called and he ignored her call. She died that night. He threw so much guilt and self loathing on himself that I think it contributed to his early death. A once jovial man who loved life, he traveled the US on photography trips every year and created breathtaking landscapes. He became cynical, and critical; he could no longer take those photography trips…his body turned on him. He became dependent on dialysis…his political views were passionate and one sided. A man who once loved so many, and was loved by many more, reduced his circle…until the only family he contacted anymore was a cousin across the country, and myself.

This is why I have taken a break from WordPress. My heart has been broken and is still. Tears well up in my eyes as I type these words. I wish I had taken the time to visit more, to call, to write to and about our family. So many of the story holders are already gone. And that is why I am returning to writing. For a while, I was so disconnected from myself I could not find the words to express what I felt. I also lost my purpose. I was writing just to write, though there is nothing wrong with that. But too much of it, for me, became more of an obligation than the passionate expression it once had been…the passion is what I loved about writing in the first place. This break helped me rediscover…me.

This week our theme is Breaks – why they’re important. I believe in following through with obligations and promises made. I dropped the ball this past month…well, let’s be honest…this whole fucking year so far. I apologize for that. I think my new promise and obligation should only be to publish passionate pieces. That may mean not publishing everyday. I think you’re worth it. I should only share shit that’s living and breathing. Shit that’s near and dear to my heart. Without this break, I would have continued on lifeless publishing. That’s not fair to you.

Taking a break isn’t quitting. After all, every football game has four quarters and a halftime. The players need breaks to recoup, reenergize, and refresh to be able to “leave it all out on the field.” There is nothing wrong with taking a knee and resting a minute. That minute may be a day, a week, a month. You only quit if you don’t come back. I think you’ll find you’ll want to come back just as desperately as you wanted to stop writing. I did..or I should say do. I was so close to never coming back…then I heard a song called, “Gone” by Charles Berthoud. It’s an instrumental bass piece…breath taking. (So is Luna!) It brought me back…the words over flowed…along with the long lost passion. I had no choice but to write. It’s good to be back!! It really is.

© 2018 Grabbety Covens

Photo Credits:

  • Benjamin Schaefer
  • Natasha Breen
  • Mark Herreid
  • Kurt Arrigo

Fictional Days

I personally love writing fiction. When I first started writing it was stories, never poetry, that I scribbled out. I don’t think I put enough stories or flash fiction on my blog.

In a way I don’t imagine I’ll ever actually try to publish poetry so I have no reason to keep it for myself. I guess that’s why so much ends up on the blog and so little of my stories.

Fiction can take on any form though, it doesn’t have to be a story. I’ve read some amazing works here on WordPress that were fictional pieces in poem form.

Here’s a fiction example that I wrote today. I found a photo prompt with a requirement of 100 words or less.

That’s a tough one! You have to be really effective with your words when they are limited.

I’m not sure I made it work that well but without further ado:

When I was a little girl I pressed my nose against the glass of my dad’s old Volkswagen as we passed under bridges in the city. I puffed great smokey blasts of fog to draw little hearts and “hellos” in as the sleeping men tossed in their bags.

“Dad, why don’t we help them?”
“They have to help themselves first.”

There was a woman beneath the bridge today snapping pictures of our homeless communities. Preserving our tents and bags in rough black and white photos for exhibit.

“Don’t you want to help yourself?”

I hear they feed you in jail.

Ted Strutz


My Apologies

Hello, My Dear Friends and Followers.  I won’t be able to partake in this weeks TPIB Entry of Fiction 101.

As some of you may know, I’ve been under the weather for most of this week with anxiety issues.  I plan on taking most of the weekend for a break in the action because my writing is really not up to par.

I promise to be back the following week on March 24, 2018, to fulfill  “Guilty Pleasures”

Thank you, for your understanding.

Take Care & God Bless,


Fiction writing 101….Mansion

Fiction is something that I dread he most…its not that I am bad at it but I am too slow at it. I mean it takes me long enough to build a character and define it. Sometimes I go so deep that it bores me and sometimes I am in such a hurry that it takes away the thrill out of it. When I was a school going teenager, I used to tell lot of stories to my bus mates and they nick named me “Story Girl” but now it’s little different from those times. Me and my stories are evolving and shaping up even better but the process has become bit slow. I keep honing my skills now and then but I don’t know where I have reached. So mostly I stick to poetry or to non fictional things.
Recently I wrote in fact would say tried my hand again on short piece of fiction. I am sharing it with you all here, hope not to disappoint you people out.

Barren land and grey skies. …in between stood alone a middle age manssion. Nothing to surround it but barren lonelyness of the atmosphere. Cold environment, full moon night. No other source of light except the moon, itself. For miles the nothingness can be felt. Not a sound,complete pindrop silence.

In that lonely night the manssion stood like a soldier. A silhouette of itself. Mist hovering above it. Thunder strike! and in that flash of light for a second the appearance of the manssion reveals itself..old paint but not chipped, only roughed by time and weather. Stone steps to the main entrance, one broken glass window in the left, on the second floor. It was five storied building. Tightly closed doors and windows, broken name plate. Not a single soul to welcome life. And then again it’s covered in the darkness.

Continue reading “Fiction writing 101….Mansion”


It is with regret that I cannot complete this week’s post on fiction writing. Several personal issues have come to play in recent days and I must step away from The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch for a short time. I will return shortly and am looking forward to writing more posts about the art of writing. Thanks for understanding…

Grabbety Covens

Love 101 – How It All Began (Poetry)

via Daily Prompt: Suddenly

The year was 1987, and I was all about working, striving, and having nothing but fun.  I was also about fooling around, and just having a good time, if you know what I mean.  I wasn’t looking for love, although the concept of it was “Eh… if it happens ok, if not, ok.”  I didn’t care back then. I was 20 years old, and the social butterfly back then with not a care in the world, life was about one big party right after the other.




That day I remember all too well,

partying the night before,

and hung over the following morn,

when opening the store.

Just like any other day,

I wanted it to move fast.

There would be yet another party,

and I didn’t want to show up last.

Wishing my cup of coffee 

was an intravenous drip,

its filtration wasn’t working all that quick,

yet, I just kept taking quick sips.

The store’s doorbell rang,

and up I sprang…

to beat my co-worker’s 


my hangover in remission.

Suddenly our eyes did meet

as if it was destiny was playing a hand,

Hell, this was not what I had planned.

His charismatic smile nearly dropped me to my knees,

He requested to see the new inventory,

I shook my head and replied;

“I beg your pardon, please?”

We both then laughed a bit,

like that out of a comedy skit,

for this was love at first sight that hit!

Ah, yes… I remember that day all too well, 

as it were yesterday.

How I wish I could turn back the hands of time,

Then you would still be mine.




[Picture provided by – Justyn Warner]















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