Fiction, 1:42pm, June 18 2014

Finding friction

in fiction-as-research

I delve, I devour words

coated in truth

a lick of paint so subtle you

couldn’t tell the

false from the true.

Lines of data swell up

like the sea at

high tide;

it’s high time for me

to feel the sand

swirling in the salty water

brush against my skin

and sink, sink,

sink deep within.

Those grains are proof

that I exist

that this is the truth

stranger than fiction

more buoyant than hope.

Open Mind

After stumbling through a few weeks of my new routine, the path towards my own personal truth is slowly revealing itself. 

When videos like the one above make themselves very present in my life, I can’t help but think about the message they are communicating. 

Is my mind still open?

Am I fulfilling my personal truth?

Why do I spend so much time working on things I don’t love?

It’s a complicated mess we dance on and I guess it’s just about finding the right shoes, partner, and costume to prevent too many bad breaks when you eventually fall.

Keep an open mind, see things in terms of their possibilities for change and growth. 

A short excerpt from “Glass Confetti”, my forthcoming book.

"The joints in my feet pop and crackle as they make contact with the blue, itchy carpet. The weight of my bones pushes my body into place, forcing me to embrace the vertical. It’s not an easy transition, but then again, perhaps I’m not used to the blood rushing to my head like that.

Steadying myself, I approach the chest of drawers opposite my queen-sized bed and beginning riffling through the top draw for underwear. Opening the draw first thing in the morning feels like open-heart surgery: exposing the tangled mess of colourful knickers, my steady hand carefully removes the correct pair. 

My room is neither small nor large, but rather an intricate puzzle of ‘identity pieces’ - read as a whole, they create the illusion of Jo, of who I am. It sounds a bit wanky to talk about myself as a conglomerate of pieces, or even as an illusion, but since her death that’s how I’ve felt…bitsy…jarred…or any number of words that equate to ‘somewhat lacking’. The trinkets of interest I choose to coexist with pale in comparison to the shit storm that’s brewing in my heart.”

© Marion Piper, 2013.

Jack Kerouac’s List of 30 Beliefs and Techniques for Prose and Life (from

  1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
  2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
  3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
  4. Be in love with yr life
  5. Something that you feel will find its own form
  6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
  7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
  8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
  9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
  10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
  11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
  12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
  13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
  14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
  15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
  16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
  17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
  18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
  19. Accept loss forever
  20. Believe in the holy contour of life
  21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
  22. Dont think of words when you stop but to see picture better
  23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
  24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
  25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
  26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
  27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
  28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
  29. You’re a Genius all the time
  30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

(Read the original post here)