The Ladies of Lit: Volume XVII

Jan 7, 201222 min read

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Published: Jan 7, 2012

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Welcome to volume seventeen 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:

This article's deviant spotlight: featuring the talented angelStained. She has offered to answer a few questions as well, to tell us a bit about what inspires her writing and which piece in particular she favors.

Additional information about our upcoming events, including a special critique Q and A session in our official TheLadiesofLit chatroom. And 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!

scarletbird
:thumb196360266::thumb213072563::thumb201725111:

_{Suggested by: LadyofGaerdon

"scarletbird's writing is so strong and clear - simply reading her vivid prose is enough to inspire her lit community peers to improve. With her absolute mastery of the craft, she sets the bar high for us all."}

TsengEclipse
Meeting Innes17: I caught a ride with a trickster in a travelling band, to a town down by the sea.
When I say I've known Innes since I was young, all I mean is that he's been in my life. Nobody knows Innes. The closest I ever came was the knowledge that the person he showed to the world was a front. There was more to him than the grinning trickster, something beneath those bright, sea-blue eyes that glittered with mischief. I know that I wanted to find out what it was... what he was. But he was never there for long enough for me to really know.
Innes wasn't a local. He and his family nominally lived a few villages down the long road to the capital, but they moved so often it was surprising they had a home to call their own at all. I'd first seen him when they came to our town to aid in a performance, and I was drawn to his long, dark hair and his tanned skin and his vibrant dress, despite what my parents said to me. Be careful. I was. Innes was happy to befriend me, like After the EndAfter a tragic infection which wipes out everybody above the age of ten, the world is rebuilt by children.
"You can't have it."
She stood in front of the entrance to the house, four feet and three inches of angry righteousness. Martin blinked in surprise as she held up a finger, affecting a know-it-all pose. "It's mine. My house. Got here firstest and all." Martin looked up at the house. It was an end terrace, bricks a little blackened on the outside. Facing the road, not that it mattered. Only one of the windows was broken, too.
"Can't you share?" he protested, pouting. She folded her arms, huffing irritably.
"No. 'S mine," she repeated. She was determined, he'd give her that. "You can have the next one." Martin looked over at that one. Middle terrace, bricks very blackened on the outside on account of the fire that had gutted all but the house she was stood in front of right now.
"I can do stuff in the garden," he offered. His mum had called it something. Bribery Woodchips23: Daddy or chips.
You aren't quite sure when the question became so important.
You don't even remember when you asked the question in the first place.
Does it matter?
It didn't back then...
It does now.
Which is it?
Which one did you pick?
Was it who you thought it was, making the offer?
Was there anyone making an offer at all?
"Let's go through this again," I began, leaning back in my chair. I'd perfected the smug grin to the point of acute annoyance to the man and the woman sat opposite me. Badges glinted in the bright white lights of the room. They were done playing good cop, bad cop. To be perfectly honest, though, I found it more fun when they both played ugly cop. "You've brought me in because you think I killed someone." The woman, Francis (because she hated me using her first name), ground her teeth audibly, inclining her head once. "But!" And I held up a cautionary finger. "You've got, hmm, let's see... oh, yes. No evidence!" the finger was wagged. "That

_{Suggested by: SadisticIceCream

"TsengEclipse might be relatively new to writing, but her prose has a way of cutting to an emotional core in a way that is elegant and effective without sacrificing the components of a good story."}

losingmyfaith
Despair Sure Looks Like YouIt sinks
heavy and wet
into the pit of my stomach
the taste of gravestones
and disappointment
lining my lips
coating my tongue
with slick scales of disgust;
flakes of regret pile
underneath my fingernails
absorbing into the skin
making me bitter
and everything I promised I'd never be. When I Saw Him LastWhen I saw him last
he sang such a sweet
sorrowful song,
his lips forming melodies I could touch.
When he left I could feel the emptiness like a heartbeat
in the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet.
I could feel it like a regret I'll always carry,
a mistake I'm too weak to right.
Time passes in the blink of an eye;
before you know it everything you have could be gone
taken from you
(because everything comes to an end)
and there's only one thing you can ask
"please remember me." Your AftermathThere's a lifetime of things I never told you
an ocean between us that I was too scared to cross;
I should have swam to you though, darling.
I should have thrown every key to your feet
and allowed you to unlock whichever secrets you desired.
I should have told you how much I love you
(present tense; never past)
how often my heart beats your name
how hot my skin is every time you touch me
how your voice is like music and when I dream,
it's filled with your dulcet tones
how I can't think of anyone else
no matter how hard I try.
I should have told you
because now it's too late
now you're in a place where I can't reach you
where I can't touch you
or hear you
or beg you not to get into your car
after a lonely night at the bar.
You don't have to deal with the aftermath
but what about those of us
who have to pick up all the pieces you left behind?
You're gone
leaving me in the wake of my mistakes
my regrets
my should-have, what-if's.
All those years I thought I was most afraid of dying,
but y

_{Suggested by: dreamsinstatic

"Emily is one of my favorite writers on DeviantART. Her work is consistently powerful, thought provoking and inspiring."}

wh0rem0ans
3 Aug '11she shoved lit sparklers in her ears
to drown out her own howlings as
a reggae blues beat played loudly
on xylophone ribs and bongo butt
his eyes slid down into his nostrils
and his eye sockets grew teeth as
he didn't want to miss a morsel
nor the chance to chew it twice ... I had been watching themI had been watching them argue through the window.
Not a word was spoken. It was an argument nonetheless.
He sat, rigid and straight, with knees firmly together.
She stroked her hand over his knee and his posture softened.
They kissed and he softened and they kissed and then
Her hand moved one millimeter north and he froze.
With a dramatic sigh, she slowly turned away from him
And looked out the window.  Locking eyes, we stared.
I saw surprise, then cunning, then invention, and then
Invitation.  I felt my face muscles pass through the
Exact same pattern and then my body swelled and
I answered her invitation with an invitation as well.
HIs dismay puzzled me, as he watched her climb out
The window and onto the flower box and laugh aloud.
She brushed the potting soil from her skin and stood up
To join me.  And she looked back with compassion but
No remorse.  She smiled and blew a kiss and grabbed
Her clothes through the windo Magic GirlShe spoke in movie lines and lyrics.
She designed orange and pink clothes.
She kept pet potatoes under her bed.
She raced back to hug me over and over.
She roller bladed off porch cliffs easily.
She designed orange and pink clothes.
She sank into a teen abyss so deep.
She dressed in ugly emotions and pain.
She wrote out her darkest poignancies.
She abhorred touch and light and me.
She offered her fiercest support to me.
She lived in a world of her own design.
She decided to be a raging success.
She studied and passed the GED test.
She learned to drive and practiced going.
She got a job and found a friendly world.
She made friends who value and love her.
She designed a world where she belongs.

_{Suggested by: xlntwtch

"She writes beautiful poetry. It often paints pictures of magic moments many people would have, if only they stop, look, and listen."}

theWriterMAB
-We Are Seven Spirits-One cold winter night a young blind girl named Kaine, barely in her twelfth year, laid upon her death bed.  The doctors had never seen illness such as hers and could do nothing to slow its progression.  Though not contagious, it was fatal and the disease would soon take her.  All they could do was to make her comfortable until her time came.
During her final days, a variety of odd visitors came to see her—friends, neighbours, teachers, soldiers, shopkeepers, high ranking officials, artists, musicians, journalists, mothers and children galore—people of all kinds, even animals.  Each time a visitor left, the medical staff would hear these haunting words:
It's such a tragedy,
for that child to be all alone and yet,
she seems at peace,
like Death, himself, doesn't scare her one bit.
"Why would she be so at peace?" One of the nurses asked one odd visitor.  "Do you know why?"
"It's because all her brothers Awaken the RosebudsA Tribute to Brian Jacques
She could hear her granddaughter singing as she washed the remaining dishes.  The song that holds many memories since the time of Martin the Warrior, although it had long since become forgotten as time passed by. But its melody hasn't been completely forgotten on the winds' breath or in their family.  The roses would be in full bloom soon, except the roses haven't bloomed since her daughter's death.
Sighing contently, Rosebloom Mossflower listened to her granddaughter's voice.  Many have noted that her voice reminded of the original singer. Yet her granddaughter's voice wasn't up to par yet, there was always something that caused the child to fumble up on the words or she would soon incorporate a different tune into the song all the sudden when daydreaming.  Lost in her own memories, Rosebloom began to mouth the words, almost whispering them softly, not to disturb the song's lingering echo.
Then there -The Dragon's Year-**The original text from January 2012 has been removed as of May 2022 but this will remain up to preserve the memories, thank you for understanding.**

_{Suggested by: The-Theory-Liz

"theWriterMAB's gallery is electric and filled with heart. It invokes powerful reaction."}

My Spotlight Deviant:

angelStained

_{Kyla is a talented writer who knows in essence who she is and what her goals are when it comes to writing. She dabbles in a great many different genres and experimentation, but in the end, the sheer beauty behind her words is evident and strikes at your very heart.}

She has also taken a few moments to share some of her own insights as a writer. I asked her a few questions:

Why do you write?

To feel. First, the satisfaction: a distinct 'my time was treasured, worth it' when it's complete. And then the thrill when you're at the edge of the perfect phrase or your idea coming into fruition.

The preserving quality of writing is attractive. To create stasis— maybe even a time capsule of sorts— is simply wonderful. But while it preserves, it also breathes life into concepts and my imagination.

To explore: words, worlds, the world, forms, characters, plots, yes. Though it may be an uneventful venture at times, I like to take a chance.

And to cull boredom: my attention span is short and runs everywhere. Writing's the only way I can focus for an extended period of time. I'm sure my friends can attest to that.

And everything else!

You have put together a wonderful critics news article series. What inspired this and do you think it encourages others to offer critique?

Inspiration was, well, coming across a mind-blowing critique (poprocksandcharlotte's, I think) and having an insatiable urge to share it. The effort can't go unnoticed. And noticing that a common gripe among the Lit Community is that we aren't getting enough quality feedback, critique is rare, etc. Since I had quite a set of reasons in my head to crit, I decided if they work for me, they may work for you.

And then after I realized I haven't seen anything similar yet, bar critique competition results, I was motivated to actually write the first article and share my thoughts + links collected. Thought others would appreciate it, and you did, so I continued. Thanks for all the support.

The articles' main purpose is to encourage critique, so I sincerely hope so! It has had a warm reception so far.

What things in your life aside from DeviantART keep you connected to your writing?

My life itself: how fast-paced it is. There's always momentum to keep my thoughts alive and my writing constantly in change.

And the life in everything.

I'm particularly interested in relationships since they're integral to our experiences; and then note them down, elaborate, brainstorm the oddities and write. Love it when I spot funny similarities to observe. It's even better when I don't avoid the ridiculous but in fact look out for them. Though you're shot odd looks if seen around a notebook all the time, it's worth it to remember what you otherwise would have forgot.

As for people, it's wonderful once you take a step back and just realize how humans + things interact every day. Though I don't often write about everyday occurrences, they have great power as writing material.

Last but not least, of course my friends who inspire, share their inspiration and allow myself to relentlessly integorrate them at mad hours of the day. And laugh. I wouldn't be writing without them and their epic minds.

What motivates you to share your writing on DeviantART?

The feedback, without a doubt. Such brilliant comments and opinions. There's nowhere else better, with the near-perfect balance of formality and fun. And admittedly that 'stage 1 completed!' feeling when I submit: the relief of sorts that my writing is, at least, presentable for my standards.

One of the best things about dA is that it's open to everyone; anyone can notice my writing and enjoy it. I'd very much prefer an unrestricted audience.

And how incredible the writing is here when you look for it. It's a place where we can thrive.

Which piece featured is your favorite and why?

gold, mostly because I spent almost a month on it and expressed what I wanted to say without too many complications. Also, some of the comments were so helpful and left me ridiculously sunny.

angelStained will also be joining us in the our TheLadiesofLit chatroom for a special critiquing session for her wonderful literary work. If there are any critiquing tips you would like to offer her toward any deviations that you have seen featured here today or others that interest you – this is the place to be on February 5th at 9:00 pm EST! (What time is this for me?) And as an extra incentive: for those of who offer angelStained the best critiques, there will be a few extra goodies in store for you, so don't miss out!

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!