Prose & Protests

Hi, I’m Sephy (short for Persephone), an aroace writer and engineering student. Currently balancing writing my fantasy novel whilst studying for a robotics degree. I love baking, reading and crochet. I am often mistaken for an old lady in a young woman’s body — or a librarian. I can’t really refute either allegation. About my blog: 🌷 Excerpts, moodboards and ramblings from my epic fantasy WIP - “when the ripple becomes a tidal wave” 🌷 Entries from my prose/poetry anthology, “The Diary of a Melancholic” 🌷 Writing procrastination (i am a master of the craft) and tips which, full disclaimer, I do not follow myself 🌷 Political vents from a girl entirely disillusioned with the state of the world 🌷 Crash outs over technology and the meaning of life

⬇️ Read more for WIP details ⬇️

can confirm I am still alive and kicking. i wouldn’t go so far as to say i’m doing *great*, but i’m trying my best.

i seem to have taken a hiatus from writing utterly by accident. i’ve been so focused on uni that i haven’t had a moment to write.

well, i suppose i have had many a spare moment, but those have so far been taken up by curling up under a weighted blanket and watching netflix until my eyes go square. my excuse is that im tired and burnt out and i need to disengage my brain for a while.

a few weeks ago on one of the rare sunny days of this year i went so far as to go to the botanical gardens and wrote until my hands froze up from the cold. but those were not words that will leave the pages of my notebook for some time, I think. although they may be some of the best from my novel so far. i don’t know.

I haven’t written since, which is frustrating. I have so many ideas bottled up in my head which i daydream at every spare moment. But right now I just don’t have the energy.

Soon, i hope I’ll be back on writing. and maybe a while later i’ll be back to shout whatever my chaotic brain comes up with into the void.

Was the world always falling apart?

Figure out what creatures are mythical to them. What stories and magic they would think impossible.

Explore the limits of the world, of your societies’ beliefs, and you will create a far richer world.

It is easy to forget how much influence our environment and experiences have over the silly little stories we pass down over generations.

But it is those little stories that take the setting beyond an aesthetic backdrop. They are a window into the rich history of the world.

I learned today my driving instructor is racist.

Saw a hijab and labelled her thief. As though that is a normal reaction to have, to someone asking for directions.

I learned today my brother in law is racist, complaining about a hotel for asylum seekers. He did not even try to conceal his bigotry behind trumped up claims of crime prevention.

Or whatever is the latest tired excuse.

I learned today that it is not just a minority driving the hate. Not simply extremism amplified far out of proportion. 

It is my neighbours. My family. That lady I shared a smile with at the supermarket. 

When did discrimination become acceptable?

Write until the paper tears and the ink runs dry.

Until the keys wear out and the battery dies.

Write like your life depends on it.

Don’t stop for anything.

For anyone.

Write.

Division is trending.

There is no longer nuance; unbiased is a lie.

In this age of algorithms and engagement, it is so easy to radicalise. To be radicalised.

The tide is of racism and transphobia and Left vs Right and hatred and bigotry and violence is rising and we have been swept up, spitting and choking on its filthy seawater until we learn to breathe in the unrelenting hate. As fresh as bright winter air.

I would rather drown. But just as nothing is truly watertight, no one is fully immune to the polarisation that seeps into every facet and opinion, so slowly you don’t notice the shift.

It is unavoidable, and I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hateitIhate —