Tag: creative writing

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2 Months…Holy Shit.

Derra Nicøle

Great title right…I thought so too.

The last two months have been a blurred whirlwind. This dream of becoming a brilliant writer who’s story is shared around the world, who’s story may make a difference in how our society thinks…it’s been a ride to say the least. The current publisher I am with has been next to no help in keeping their part of the contract up, so a decision had to be made.

Two weeks ago as I was washing off the day in the shower, as the vanilla suds washed away I took my five minutes. Five minutes to allow the hot downpour to cancel out the sound of tears streaming down my freckled cheeks. Five minutes to allow the anxiety to fill my head with every self bullying comment to break me down. Five minutes to allow this depressional storm to finish drowning my confidence. And, then in the last few seconds of self destruction, a decision…quit or fight?

Now I excel at many things, however, quitting has never been one of those things. For whatever reason, no matter how deeply I want to quit, I can’t. It’s as if I’m programmed to keep fighting, even in the moments that I want to wave the white flag. Over the years I have learned that this is both a blessing and a giant pain in the ass aspect.

That same night, while getting lost in a carton of Ben & Jerry’s mint cookie ice cream, my mind made its mental list of pros and cons…one definitely out weighing the other.

These next two months, starting from last Sunday to Nov 2nd, will deliver another whirlwind. In these next two months I will be celebrating my baby bros 22nd bday (this Friday). He has gone from a total punk to an amazing man in the last couple of years. I’m so proud of him. My Mom’s and sister’s bdays are also in September, its pretty much bday palooza for the Sabo’s. I myself will be embarking in breaking ties with my current publisher and hopefully finding a new one, a genuine and honest one…fingers crossed. I’ll also be finishing my current manuscript while starting my first fictional story (I’m scared as shit, but also excited). This insane month will end in one word…Epic. As I will be at the Fall Out Boy concert featuring Machine Gun Kelly. I attended the first round of the Mania tour last year so it’s only appropriate that I attend round two.

In October there will be more bdays to celebrate and on the 15th I will go dark, 24 hours of going off of the grid (this day will mark 11 years since my Popee passed). Then Halloween will spook it’s way in. I do love spooks.

Two days after all Hallows day flys in and out will mark my bday. Yep, on November 2nd I will be turning 34…holy shit. It’s not the number that causes me to momentarily stop breathing, it’s the thought of “how have I made it this far?”. From the kid who wasn’t supposed to live past the age of 14 to attempting suicide at the age of 17. At 22 (two weeks before my 23rd bday) I lost my Popee to cancer. That next year I was so angry, sad…I stopped eating and found myself at rock bottom, again. At 26 I met a guy that I thought was “the one” only to realize that I was involved with a villain portraying a nice guy facade. One toxic relationship. At 28 I became sick with Bronchitis, 4 months of constantly praying “kill me now. Seriously, I’m ready”. Then at the age of 29, two months before turning the big 30, I found out that I was sick, to the point of literally baffling the doctors as to how I was still alive. Mind numbing terms were being thrown at me, “heart attack, organs shutting down, transfusions, hospital”. No good news exists before you’ve had your morning coffee. After that appointment, I found myself on the side of the car in a Denny’s parking lot fearing death for the first time in my life.

And here I am, two weeks from that mind numbing day of believing that I was finished…here I am, two months away from out living that original death statistic by 20 years. Like I said…

2 months…holy shit.

If I can live through this, I can do anything… -Fall Out Boy

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Anomaly

Derra Nicøle

Anomoly – something that deviates from the standard

A.k.a. … Me

Last night my heart did something strange, something that slightly freaked me out.

The heart is an amazing muscle. It feeds the body, it feels emotions. The heart is quite the multi-tasker, it maintains the current of blue plasma through the freeway of veins while sending our brains morse coded love notes.

The heart and left ring digit are eternally connected by a single vein, I call that vein Cupid St..

While lying in bed, my mind going over today’s schedule, my ears soaking in the lyrics to Sail, my heart went from a normal rhythm to one hard beat then nothing. At least it felt as though it stopped, seriously. I couldn’t feel it beating in the center of my chest. I couldn’t see it’s pulsating motion. While I could feel my pulse, it’s as though my heart went missing. After a couple of minutes, all was right…the beat was back.

As I sat in bed, my mind began crunching every possibility of what was happening. I know this makes me sound like I’m crazy and I’d agree with you, I was slightly freaked. In the end of analyzing my present situation, my brain came up with one option…possible warning sign of a heart attack, or a weird palpation. I’ve had both, so that automatically becomes the first scenario, the scenario that seems most logical.

So, I lied back down allowed the music to calm this anomoly.

As morning waved hello, I began scrolling through the daily news on my phone. My time to keep up with what’s what in this beautifully chaotic world. An article caught my attention, the cliff notes version…that even though you haven’t met your soulmate yet, your hearts are already connected. Your heart can feel when their heart is happy or broken. While I believe anything is truly possible, I wasn’t quite sold on that article.

However, as the hours of sunlight diminished, my brain couldn’t help but, ponder that curious article. What if soulmates hearts are somehow connected in a way…what if my heart felt a moment of “his” pain. I say pain because that hard beat followed by not feeling anything at all was in no way pleasant.

I don’t know…

Last night was indeed weird….

Quite the anomaly…

I want you forever even when we’re not together… – MGK

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Future Snippet

Derra Nicøle

Here is a snippet, a letter from Dear You. A message to my present and future self. If you wrote a letter to your future self what would you tell yourself? What would you hope for? I hope you’re all having a wonderful night or morning. 🤘💛

**Damn girl! How in the world did we survive the hurricane that’s been our life? “Everything happens for a reason” has aided in the frustration and insanity that’s clouded the path. Music has been the morphine drip numbing the violent vibrations pounding through our mind. Writing has been the escape route taken when running forward every time we’ve murdered our past. Friends have band-aided small cuts and wounds. Family has been our solid shoulder to shed each black tear, created milestones of happiness and the warm embrace that’s comforted our heart. And “he” has been the calm that’s silenced the storm within (even though he doesn’t know it).

This frozen moment is picturesque, strokes of brilliance beautifully framed for all the world to see.

Guarded we remain and that’s ok because the walls represent that trust is a privilege earned not just freely handed out or bought. Our heart is still under lock and key, but that’s ok too because its stitched strength is reserved for the one who deserves its goldenness. Its scars remind us that we will no longer blindly jump into just anyone’s arms. Despite these necessary glitches, we’re doing just fine (no I don’t mean freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional).

“ I don’t have the right name or the right looks, but I have twice the heart…”. -Fall Out Boy

30 years young, and I must say that you’ve never looked so beautiful. You’ve become a force that wakes up every morning, ready to take on the day and every curve ball that may be thrown your way. As for the future, I can’t predict what storms may come, I can’t reveal if love will kiss your forehead, I can’t have loose lips if your story will ever be shared with the world (depending on someone’s assistance is a sticky wicket because you’re now counting on someone to have the courage to take a chance on a nobody). But, I can spill the secret that the past’s ashes will forever reside six feet under, never to darken your starry night.

“Burn everything you love then burn the ashes…”

-Fall Out Boy

The only advice that I shall pay you off with is never ever hinder who you are, under any circumstances should you fold. Life only gives you a single game. So, shuffle the deck… Grasp the hand you’ve been dealt… Shut your eyes… Take a breath… And play those Aces…**

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24 Hours

Derra Nicøle

Once in a while you wake up and realize that your only obligation to society, to the world is to pause your life and stay in. The only task invisibly written in your planner is to take care of you.

Do whatever it is that’s going to allow you to clear your mind…to breathe.

Today was that day for myself. Last night was rough…the current events in my life has placed my mind racing at 180 mph, sleep downgraded from a few hours to zero hours and my stomach was in knots.

Stress is as much a monster as Anxiety.

Today my phone was silenced and only check a couple of times just in case…today I made comfort food, enjoyed every bite…today I sipped on an iced coffee, sweet liquid caramel crack 😉.

Today I indulged in a few episodes of Gilmore Girls while jotting down a few thoughts and next moves…today I took care of me.

Sometimes you need to just pause life…24 hrs for you.

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Rollin’ with the Big Dogs

Derra Nicøle

Well, it’s an eye opening experience. My first time rolling with the big dogs and what I’ve learned is that there are those who still think that they can screw over the newbies.

Last year a major publishing company signed with me and I thought that I was at the starting line of an amazing adventure in publishing and promoting my memoir.

I knew that selling my life’s story would be challenging, the memoir genre isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. So when this publisher sent me a contract I was over the moon happy. I was sent a contributory contract, which I completely understood why they offered it. They’re taking a chance on a nobody. I read the contract over, took some time to process my thoughts then moved forward.

Long, frustrating story short…the different editors, marketing personnel and accounting personnel I have been dealing with since last July has been nothing other than a giant stressful mess. One sided emails on my side, short cut off responses (it is like they give me just enough info to shut me up for a while, but without ever replying with actual updates or information). The services that were supposed to be provided by them in promoting my book hasn’t been provided, I have paid for outside promotional services and blog tours as well as posting on my own social media.

This is in no way me bitching, this is me feeling duped and fed up with lies, empty promises and the big dogs screwing with the newbies.

I am usually the one to bite my tongue, but my tongue is scarred enough from complaining it in the past. Not this time. I’m tired of being taken advantage of, tired of those that think I’m some dumb chick whom they can ignore. Certain emails will be sent out in the next couple of days, professional and factual, but sent.

While I’m stressing over the fact of starting the query process for sending out my new manuscript all over again, I welcome that stress rather than dealing with these snakes. I’ve already gone to the grocery store and stocked up on ice cream.

These big dogs have messed with the wrong misfit.

My Dad has two sayings…

“Sabos never give up.”

And my personal favorite…

“If you’re going to roll with the big dogs then you’ve gotta learn to shit in the tall grass.”

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From Me to You 🖤

Derra Nicøle

Hey guys, hope you’re having an awesome day, afternoon or night. I thought I’d share an excerpt from my book with you. Below is part of the opening letter that I have written to you, the reader. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to share your thoughts. 🖤

**How y’all doin’? Perfectly imperfect I hope. Well, I come to you today because I have a favor to ask of you. I need you to do me a kindness. Don’t worry, it won’t take up much of your time and it doesn’t cost a single shiny Lincoln, however, it does require a few ounces of brain power and an open space in your heart. I have a story for you… Yes, I know what you’re thinking, “Oh great, another book about a nobody’s life. A tale of how a nobody had a great childhood then hit a pot hole or two while growing up, but in the end found herself and had a happily ever after.” Well congrats, you are 50% correct. This is indeed a tale of a nobody’s life, however, the bits about finding herself and having a happily ever are slightly off. My tale is about a young girl born with an unwanted label cemented onto her forehead, a label that cast a beautiful curse upon her heart. Do you know what it feels like to be a happy kid and then to have that rug pulled from under your feet? To go from feeling broken to damaged to completely worthless in one swift motion? How about wanting so much to fit in that it starts to break you down into a reflection that your 20/20 vision can no longer make out? To be marked as “different”?

I have a story to tell you, a story filled with happiness drowned out by brokenness, sprinkled with darkness and topped with a delicious suicide attempt. Served alongside is a refreshing shot of completely losing one’s self, ending in rebuilding an underdog to become an invincible version of a beautifully imperfect human.

So here we are; just you and I sitting in a cozy place getting ready for the story that I have to tell. Now whether you listen or not is your decision…

I’m just a problem that doesn’t wanna be solved… -Fall Out Boy

So here I am sharing a few shining pieces of these letters about the people that protect my stitched scars. Embrace its honesty and pass on its contagiousness.**

CLICK THIS BLUE SENTENCE TO ORDER YOUR COPY OF DEAR YOU

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I am a Sick Girl

Derra Nicøle

Who am I? This three worded question seemed so daunting and unanswerable for most of my life. Far too much time was wasted tearing myself apart in trying to be what everyone else wanted me to be, too much time was lost staring into the mirror at an unrecognizable reflection.

My name is Derra and I was born with a rare disorder, EB. From day one of entering into this beautifully chaotic world my forehead was engraved with the “Damaged” label and just as quick as I was awarded a birth certificate, I was also cursed with my death certificate. Fourteen, that was the amount of years the doctors and statistics allotted to me as my life span. From day one my Mom could tell that I was a fighter, that I would outlive all of those so called “statistics”.

Growing up is hard enough, especially in this day and age where hate seems to be outranking love. Throughout school I was teased and bullied, I was labeled and torn apart, all because of this curse I was born with, all of because of certain circumstances that I had not one ounce of control over. I knew that I was born different, but aren’t we all? I knew that I was born broken, but aren’t we all? Not one of us was born into this world perfect. Whether it is physical, mental or emotional, we all have a glitch.

It’s crazy how we are able to understand and apply the fact that “perfection” is an unattainable concept yet we can’t fathom the fact that there is no such concept as “normal”, that we are all “different”. Being Different is looked at as a downside, being different means that you don’t fit in, you don’t belong.

As a kid I loved that I was different, but I could never understand why other kids bullied me for that. As a teenager the bullying escalated causing a storm to build inside of my mind that I wasn’t in any way prepared for. Depression hit hard, suicidal thoughts hit harder. I morphed from being a happy, nerdy girl into a pain filled teenager. Days were spent simply going from class to class, dodging certain teens. Nights were spent silently crying myself to sleep, silently praying that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Two months before graduation, I took it into my own hands of ending the pain that saturated my bones and veins. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want this world to think that it was victorious with my defeat…I just wanted to stop hurting, to stop believing that I was damaged, that I was worthless. I just wanted the pain to disappear.

Even into my early twenties, depression still lurked about. A toxic concoction of zero confidence, bad relationships, health issues and still with the fact that I couldn’t recognize my own reflection made for one messed up human. I was unresponsive to life, something had to give. Three months before turning Thirty, Death and I came face to face again. Death was one aspect of life that I never feared, he and I had already met a few times previously, so we were already well acquainted with one another. This though, it was real, a different real. A grab you by the heart and pull the plug kinda real. Your eyes open differently when your life is being held at a metaphorical gun point. The news broke me down in a Denny’s parking lot, my life replayed itself two days later while in the presence of sand and ocean.

I was born with a rare disorder, a disorder that should’ve taken my life a long time ago, yet here I am. I have beat every medical statistic thrown in my face. I survived through a childhood filled with endless doctors appointments, surgeries and nightmare filled slumber. I survived those teenage years filled with bullies, depression, losing my sight and going through more surgeries to get it back (that was a crazy two years, my world literally went dark), suicidal thoughts and one scary as shit attempt. I spent my twenties rebuilding myself with the pieces I had left and adding a few new ones. Along the way revisiting my dark place due to the loss of my Popee and one hellish relationship I should’ve never been in. Then came that one final storm that inevitably hit hard, causing me to believe that this was my end. All of these trials, these infamous curveballs that life through at me and I actually made it to Home plate. I guess Death isn’t truly quite ready for me.

So, who am I? I am Derra Sabo, a writer, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a foodie, a beach baby, a forever fan of Fall Out Boy, a coffee addict, a bookworm, a music maniac… a 100% Grade A California chica who was never meant to live, but did. I am a beautiful disaster.

Girls like her were born in a storm. They have lightning in their souls, thunder in their hearts and chaos in their bones… -Nakita Gill