Amy on writing

The Year That Wasn’t

In this shared, dystopian nightmare. We aren’t alone, but it has been lonely.

I hope as the sun sets on this year that wasn’t, you are all safe, well, and ready for something better.

I know I am. And to celebrate the end of 2020, I have some fresh vent-sesh poetry.


No one knows.

Unwound, unrobed.

Who you are when the doors close,

When the sun has shone.

No one knows.

And when your eyes close,

the curtain call is like a dark rose.

What reaps, what sows?

No one knows.

Velvet soft and thorn prone.

But in silence the dew flows, salty throes.

All’s exposed.

And no one knows.

It’s been another long time since I’ve visited and as always I regret it. But sometimes, there’s just not much to say. And yet, so, so, much.

But for me, this blog has always been about a journey foreword. And a journey it still is. But on any adventure, we get sidetracked, bogged down, or lost…

Or sometimes we are simply floating on a stagnant sea without a paddle.

The price of self preservation.

Now, I feel my ship ready to sail again, I have a weather eye on the horizon and some brand new, book related news!

I have a fresh book in developmental editing. I wrote it in a four-week fever dream and can’t wait to share.

In my next post I will reveal the title and cover art for my new work. A 64k word YA Utopian Horror, yes. It’s exactly that.

And it won’t be months from now, someone, please. Hold me to it!

Cheers, Amy

18 thoughts on “The Year That Wasn’t”

    1. Hey Candace! Thank you 😊 I hope you’re well. As can be of course. I hope to not be such a stranger. I tend toward good old introversion when times get tough. I’m ready to venture again.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s