The Ladies of Lit: Volume XIX

Mar 7, 201223 min read

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Published: Mar 7, 2012

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Welcome to volume nineteen my Literature series, The Ladies of Lit!

The premise here is simple. Below you will find an assortment of Literature features from a selection of female deviants here on DeviantART, all of them suggested by you. In this article, you will also find a variety of other things of interest, including:

An extra special surprise geared towards this edition of Ladies of Lit, so keep your eyes peeled! Please note: My Spotlight Deviant will return in April!

Additional information about upcoming events within the Literature community. We also have a selection of other interesting Literature news links to share with you.

Our “meet our contributors” section. Be sure to note me if you would like to volunteer your services or offer additional suggestions as to how to improve this series.

We also have a new series format for this news article, due to recent DeviantART website changes. Deviants are still able to

this journal, so please take a moment to do so, to continue to show your support for our devious writers.

Now – On With the Features!

The-Queen-of-Cups

_{Suggested by: dreamsinstatic

“Fay is new to DeviantART but has quickly risen as one of its most prolific writers. Her work is undeniably captivating and her grasp of language is masterful.”}

JenniferIsD3Fective
Death of a Shade of a HueIt's a misty morning, for late December. A very dense mist, the kind of mist that piles itself from your ankles to just below your collarbone, looking wet without being wet. Still, millions of people brave the strange weather to push me aside on the sidewalk, rushing with impatience towards their New Year celebrations.
Keep your head down. Say nothing. It'll be over soon enough.
I turn a corner, my hands stuffed inside my jacket. The center of the city comes into view, the mist muting the appearance of what would have been hundreds of dazzling city lights. I focus on them, the colors blurring together as if someone had smudged the scene with their finger.
A hard weight suddenly thumps my shoulder. The woman who has just run into me mumbles something of an apology, her voice a high-pitched monotone. Wrapping her coat tighter around herself, she pauses for a moment and turns to me, as if I'd said something. I look at her sadly, and before a word leaves my lips, she walks away, som Holy Ghost, a Foreign HostHitler reigns over this town.
He savagely peels each body open like an apple
and each defragmented shell lies
in curled shapes
circumventing their own cores like unfinished fetuses.
Each one is left intact.
The shells are stinking
and soggy fumes waft heavily over Earth like a disease.
Now this is truly evil.
He looks
down upon Desolate Planet Earth
and registers a series of bodies. Something he does not feel is solitude.
One is a feminist.
One is the next Caesar.
And one is the boy king,
Tutankhamen.
(I)
Of the three bodies,
The first is a girl with cherry red lips,
she lives as memories collect. Figures move quickly
picking pieces of thought from inside ears
their faces bruised badly
purples swelling and engorging rapidly.
In each life
she wore a white dress.
Beneath the fabric is nestled a flower
whose red color imitates
the exact hue of her lips.
Each summer
before blossoming
the flower is violently wrenched open
until the nectar runs out in pools,
the sour liquid webbed bet The Inadequate PainterThis is how gods feel
when they are feeling godly
and I'm just as dumb.

_{Suggested by: SadisticIceCream

“JenniferIsD3Fective has the uncanny ability to critique the world's evils in a way that is decidedly unflinching, yet poetic. Her writing packs a punch even as you get lost in its beautiful flourishes.”}

handswouldweave
:thumb279938656::thumb282510343::thumb280349696:

_{Suggested by: sar-the-scare

“handswouldweave is a young poet. She chooses very creative topics to write about, some as simple and beautiful as the trail a spoon leaves in a jar of honey, and some more complicated and personal, like her longing to travel to Madrid, a place she only knows in her own mind.”}

AlloenDreams
EnoughI'm holding on to secrets so tightly my hands start to burn.
Winter has come full-force, wind sending the windows quivering against their panes and snow blanketing the Earth in an ivory sheen. We're all bundled up inside, pressed together for warmth to maybe give a bit of it to the not-still-living locked up in a metallic casket no bigger than a shoe box. The mix of flowers –yellow roses, her favorite– and the musty smell of the funeral home permeates everything, makes my nose crinkle up and eyes sting, spilling over with tears.
The sea of nameless, faceless acquaintances part as I walk forward, cold hands on my back and muted, guilty I'm sorrys assaulting my ears, prolonging my mission. I meet the table, watch my Aunt sniffle and move on her way, pausing to wipe her tears on my shoulder and hug me tight.
I take my turn, all eyes on me. They know,
they know.
Her face stares back at me, a dozen pressed beneath glass, her hair in a bob the color of driftwood a Dear MomDear Mom,
[I know this really isn't a letter like I promised, but you should be used to me giving less then I say I will]
I'm going to feel bad, throwing you into the ocean.
I'm going to have to clench my teeth, close my eyes, and grip my hip [because you're there, forever; in jagged scar tissue with upside down mountain capped M's and a blocky O, you're there, forever.] to keep myself from diving in after you and gathering you back together with the finest cheesecloth, molding you back together and filling you with all the beautiful things you've been drained of. I'll jam sea glass in your eye sockets and replace your weak bird bones with coral, I'll fill your lungs with saltwater [because oxygen obviously never worked; I almost miss that respirator keeping me awake at night] and wrap you with seaweed to hold you together again.
And I'll let you speak by jamming the truths to all my lies I've told you down your throat. I will whispersobconfess all my dirty deeds. I will tell yo Twenty-Seven LiesShe is the girl with twenty seven lies
etched into her ribcage. They follow
the contours like music notes, every
word, every insult a new, shrill note
in scar tissue that makes her
scream.

[Stupid; Whore; Moron;
Failure;
Imperfect]
She is the girl distorted in the carnival
mirror behind her eyes; warped, twisted
into the grotesque side show creature hidden
behind the curtain.
[Ugly; Fat; Bitch;
Not Enough;
Imperfect]
She is the girl living her life in numbers. The
scale her judgment, her worth, the never
ending countdown to the unobtainable.
[Fatass; Disgusting; Grotesque;
Imperfect;
IMPERFECT]
She is the girl striving for zero. The girl wishing
to be blown away in the wind, waiting for the
day she weighs what she truly is,
nothing.

_{Suggested by: LadyofGaerdon

“AlloenDreams pours her heart onto the page and readers can do nothing but drink it all in, eyes glued and mind reeling from the emotional intensity and literary brilliance.”}

justlittlemusings
Week Five: Judasp  o  i  s  o  n  e  d
  c  h  a  l  i  c  e
       w o u l d
             h
             a
             v
             e
        b e e n
    e  a  s  i  e  r barely even thereThe first time we met I barely noticed you - it wasn't love at first sight, or any of that other fairy-tale fiction. You were just another boy, stuck in the awkward phase between child and man, waiting for some girl to come along and pull you headlong into adulthood. We didn't even speak - not proper conversation - until that day in late July when I tripped over nothing and spilled the contents of my bag onto the pavement, right at your feet. It was almost as if you'd been waiting there for the opportunity. I blushed; you smiled, and later you bought me coffee from  a cosy café on the high-street.
By autumn we were married; it's funny how a season can pass you by without even a postcard, or how it can linger like the last leaves clutch tightly, desperately at skeleton branches. I watched them falling, spiralling to earth like snowflakes from Winter's stormy skies. We were happy though, and I thought that was all that mattered.
I should have known it couldn't last.
I noti Enduring LoveRemember summer - daffodils unbind,
reflecting salt-and-pepper thunder-skies.
Forget-me-nots intriguingly unwind,
angelic lovebirds offer lullabies.
Maria's autumn freckles scattering
across curvaceous stomach - regular.
Refracted sunlight whispers, faltering
within gold-amber irises – stellar.
Decaying memories evoke disgust.
concern: suspicion, feared unfaithfulness,
imprisoning irrational distrust,
until confession, pleading righteousness.
        Together, lovers' promises unveiled,
        aware affection's constancy prevails.

_{Suggested by: SilverInkblot

“justlittlemusings writes some fantastic prose, poetry, and six word stories.”}

KtheCard
:thumb279622136::thumb276895922::thumb275476171:

_{Suggested by: LiliWrites

“KtheCard writes breath-taking prose and poetry that covers a wide range of subjects. She's only 15, so this is a writer to watch. Who knows where her talent will take her?”}

A Special Announcement:

In celebration of International Women’s Day, ikazon interviewed this news article's series authoress, LadyLincoln. The original interview is posted below. I hope everyone will enjoy it!

Before we jump in on your news article series, why not tell everyone a bit about yourself?

I have been on DeviantART since 2005, and since that time have discovered the wonderful delights of the community. I feel most at home within the Literature realm, and have carved (I hope), a valuable niche within it – amongst the people I so love and value. I write from my heart whenever I can, hoping to tell a genuine and touching story. Away from my second home, I work daily in an Emergency Room. It gives my life a deeply felt dimension, while helping to inspire me elsewhere – and far beyond.

Would you mind telling us a bit about your article series, The Ladies of Lit?

Ladies of Lit centers around a fantastic set of talented DeviantART female writers. There are a wide variety of different talents and genres here that I hope this series has helped to bring into the well deserved spotlight over the past year or so. We also hope to help our “spotlighted” writers improve on their wonderful work by hosting our monthly critique sessions in our Ladies of Lit Chatroom.

Excellent! What made you want to start the Ladies of Lit series?

It would be difficult to pinpoint exactly what prompted it. This lovely idea struck me one summer afternoon, as a way of further reaching out to the community and spotlighting some of the dear ladies that I had the privilege of personally knowing. I wanted to expand even further and discover others as well that I had yet to meet. I was so excited to read how these Deviants were inspiring those around them with their writing on DeviantART. I began to wonder exactly what stories were they telling and why they felt the desire to share them. Each one had an amazing and unique perspective to share.

Why do you feel that the promotion of literature by women is important?

In Literature, in a much broader sense, I tend to humbly feel that female writers are sometimes overlooked or occasionally dismissed due to incorrect stereotypes and expectations forced upon them. For example: most of us are expected to write what is commonly known as chick lit or just strictly “generic” romantic related prose or poetry; and while I may fall under this category, it does not automatically mean that others should be expected to, also. So – in this way, the Ladies of Lit ongoing project serves as a showcase to further disprove this theory and to show the importance of having an appreciation for female writers of all walks of life and genres.

Who are your favorite female authors and poets, on deviantART or off?

On DeviantART, there are so many I love dearly, who frequently post writing I treasure, collect and read often. Deviants like AGMeade, LiliWrites, Rosary0fSighs, julietcaesar, AlloenDreams and zebrazebrazebra stand out the most vividly in my mind with their abundance of talent and heart. They all write with strength, passion and vibrancy. I aspire to create that same magic with my own writing and these creative deviants are the often the ones I look to for daily inspiration.

Away from DeviantART, I especially love the works of poet Emily Dickinson. Her words carry with them the same sort of magic, and with each poetic line, I feel further motivated to keep writing, in the hopes that my own heart will become fulfilled.

Going along with that, are there a few works in particular (of any medium) by women here on dA that you'd like to share?

:thumb285223145: 1000 Paper CranesI.
We whispered prayers into the corridors
while I spoke into your ribcage,
telling lies to our skeletons
to help you understand.
you said they loved
watching me wax poetic
while I dripped candlelight into your hands.
we watched the dust motes
cover our skin
while I taught you how to fly.
(you were always too afraid to fall
and too afraid to land).
II.
It wasn't lovesongs we sang;
it was half-forgotten hymns.
we never wanted to believe
but you said ghosts exist
without compassion,
and without sins.
I told the doctor
his medication clipped your wings.
III.
I fed you sweet words
tucked in between
candy-canes
and licorice
While I cried in secret every mo(u)rning
pressing tears beneath
the fragile scales
of angelfish
The doctors said
we needed to prepare.
I told them I was kissing
dandelion flowers;
hoping for a wish.
IV.
we counted every soft bruised bone
with lover's temperaments
as your temperature rose and fell.
The doctors crushed them in their hands
when they spoke of vital signs
and
Me and My Shadowi.
My shadow slips to silence among the aquatic acacias. Even here, leaves abound, draped over the fuzz-curves of his figure as he soaks up the moonlight. Papa's soft voice turns my gaze to the moon. Remember, Carlos, our shadows are but imprints of the moon. Remember the Eclipse. I shiver and hold onto an acacia branch. I'm careful not to let my shadow near the shoreline where sea meets sand. That's why acacias are aquatic; they drowned their fate with the sea, Papa says. We cannot, we must not let it be our shadow's fate. We are nothing without our shadows. And yet the tide sweeps towards my toes as the moon charioteers across the silver nightscape. I leap back onto the thorns, onto the blue leaves and pray my shadow seeks dry ground. Sometimes he doesn't pay attention.
ii.
My shadow ripples to the privacy of the umbrellas. Some aquatic acacias were born like that, shaped like the human plastic as though it would dispel their liquefied sin. I think about joining him, bu Drowning in the RainThey're standing out there, on the street, two girls frozen in place, frozen in their bodies, and the people walking by find it kind of hard not to stare.
The one girl's called Eleanor, and her makeup's smeared so badly it looks like she's been crying, and she probably was. Her hair looks like an oil spill clinging to her neck and her eyes like rusty sunk-in nickels and she looks tired, really fucking tired. The cover up's running, too, and it almost looks pretty, like a tattoo; the scar tissue stretched across her skin.
She's a mess, a beautiful disaster, a train wreck that everyone seems to have no trouble ignoring.
The other girl's a lot smaller, younger, and her name's Ellie. Her skin's pale like the rain soaking down her clothes, and it's heavy; the weight might just crush her. She has this thing about her, when she looks at you, you really can't keep looking, and they say you can't do that with the prettiest of things.
She's been called a lot of t

Some lovely works from (a few) of my favorite female writers here on DeviantART!

Thanks again for your time in answering these questions. Are there any final things you'd like to say?

Remember that DeviantART is first and foremost a community to help inspire creativity and to create artwork and Literature that is the most meaningful to you. Everyone sees things differently and carries with them their own unique point-of-view. Try and hang onto the experiences most helpful to you and make a difference – one day at a time. Continue to strive to create your chosen art form because it makes you happy and brings a sense of inner fulfillment. Do what works best for you and always stay true to whom and what you are. Individuals will appreciate you more for the sincerity within your heart. Do not be afraid to stand out and to be different and be uniquely you.

Meet Our Contributors:

I want to express my gratitude toward everyone for all of the ongoing support of this project. I duly hope to see even more suggestions in the future. Also – those of you who did not see your deviations selected and posted in this article, they may be featured on the next one. We will have plenty of upcoming deviants to spotlight in the future. If you would like to be one of those, or to suggest others, feel free to note me and be sure to tell me what you love most about them and why these writers appeals to you. Do not be shy – get involved! The more suggestions I receive, the more writers that get featured. For now, check out our volunteers who sent in their features and offered assistance, and don’t forget to thank them!