Tag Archives: Writer

Don’t know


Don’t know if I’ll
ever be able to show the world
what I see
Really see
Not a facsimile
Of ifs and buts
But of What’s
and Wherefores
And art thous
Not “I suppose If you think so”
But maybe,
has to be that way
as its always been,
To be found guilty
By ignorance, history, and apathy
Your worth only
found after your long
gone in a
when the writings
all done.


by Philip Wardlow 2018

I am

IMG_20170821_000146_767.jpgI Am…

I am a rogue, a scoundrel, flirtatious and a smart ass like Han and Lando.
Have been since I was eight
its my nature
sorry…not sorry
I give grins
Sexual Innuendo
But with a sincere affection
Behind it all
I will give you an ear
a hug
and not always what
you want to hear
But I’m real
No bullshit
But just don’t catch
me drunk
then I can’t be trusted
I see beauty every where
And try to hold it tight
But it often flies away.
But it comes back in
One form or another.
I am mischievous
A dork
Love sex and do it well…:)
Also love the value of sexiness
Because life is meant to be
brash and fun
As serious shit abounds
I apologize way too much
to myself
for actions I have
Yet to perform
I am a work in progress
at times too slowly.
But I’m learning.
My way works for
For I am me and that’s
what I will continue to

Sexism in Writing and how we can all learn from an 8yr girl

I recently have been reading various articles on sexism in the literary world. I have been learning alot and may, at a later date in another post, write my own opinion on the subject matter when I have fully researched it. I mainly began my research in to this subject matter so I would NOT become a sexist writer.

I wanted to avoid the many pitfalls I see in the writing world in the way they treat the women characters in a story. In my research, I also found we do the male character in the story a disservice as well at times.  In our sexism, we consciously or unconsciously pigeonhole women and men in stereotypical roles because we have found it to be acceptable and a “given” in our minds in how that sex should act according to the “normal laws” of societal convention. I won’t even tell you what we do to women writers in how unfairly they are treated until I have all my ducks and facts in  a row. But I will tell you this, I am a male writer and I already have an advantage over them just for that reason alone sad to say.

Here  is an article originally  featured on the website www.today.com  . The original story was written on Oct 3rd, 2013 on there website and can be found HERE

I think you will find this story interesting. I am also sure it is just the tip of the ice-burg for what goes on in the literary world at large. I would love to hear your opinions on the article after you have finished reading it.


Constance Cooper’s daughter, KC, is no shrinking violet. In fact, Cooper describes her 8-year-old as articulate, passionate and a great reader, qualities parents hope their children exhibit as they grow.

So it was not a huge surprise to Cooper when, this past summer, KC became upset after an ordinary trip to their local bookstore, Half Price Books, in Berkeley, Calif.

“We were browsing around in the bookstore, and suddenly I heard my daughter calling out, ‘Mama! You have to look at this!’” recalls Cooper. “So, of course, I thought she’d found something she wanted to buy, but it was completely the opposite. She was looking at two books that had made her so enraged she was actually in tears.”

The books, titled “How To Survive (Almost) Anything,” included a boy version and a girl version. In the boy version, the chapters covered topics such as “How to Survive a Shark Attack,” “How to Survive in a Desert,” and “How to Survive Whitewater Rapids.”

The girl version addressed such issues as “How to Survive a BFF Fight,” “How to Survive a Fashion Disaster,” and “How to Survive a Breakout.”

“The one that got to my daughter the most was ‘How to Survive a Camping Trip’ because she loves camping,” Cooper said. “It was sad to read ‘camping may not always be a girl’s top choice of activity, but here’s how to make the best of a bad situation and survive in style.’ The picture had a girl dreaming about lounging on a beach. Later it said, ‘Besides, fresh air is excellent for the skin, and a brisk walk is a marvelous workout.’”

KC was so upset at the sexist nature of the books that a bookstore employee took notice and asked her what was wrong.

“After looking through the books, the employee agreed they were offensive and pulled them from the shelves! She said if she had seen them first they wouldn’t have been there to begin with. She was great because she took action and validated my daughter’s feelings.”

Joshua Lynn, a manager at Half Price Books, has clarified to TODAY Moms that the books were not removed from the store, but rather were moved to a “less prominent area of the children’s section.”

“While we certainly understand why the books upset her and commend the girl for speaking out against stereotypical portrayals of gender roles in books, I would like to stress that we are strong advocates of First Amendment rights and do not advocate censorship or removal of “objectionable” books from circulation,” Lynn said.

Cooper, a science fiction writer, is proud of her daughter for drawing attention to the books, and took this experience as a lesson learned for both KC and herself.

“I saw this as an opportunity to explain to my daughter that it’s not always girls who are hurt by sexism, but boys too. For instance, the boys’ version of the book implies that all boys do is fight and deal with disasters. In reality they might actually benefit from a lot of the advice in the girls’ book, like ‘How to Survive Shyness’ or ‘How to be a Brilliant Babysitter’.”

And what would have normally been a simple ir­­ritation to Cooper became a much more meaningful reminder thanks to her daughter’s persistence.

“If I’d seen those books on my own, I probably would have just sh­aken my head and gone away without saying anything and felt angry when I thought about it later. As adults we see so much of that sort of thing, and we get worn down. I hope my daughter will continue to think critically about the messages she’s given in our culture and speak out when she thinks something is not right.”

Of course not everyone agreed.

Cooper said she posted the experience on her writing website, http://www.constancecooper.com, and submitted the link to boingboing, one of her favorite blogs, “because I knew from reading it that the editors are concerned about issues of gender and culture and also how to raise kids to think critically.”

“Unfortunately it triggered a somewhat nasty flurry of comments about censorship, which I feel really distracted from the point of the post,” Cooper said.

Advice to Poets – Three Quick Rules by Philip Wardlow


I don’t mean to offend. But a lot of the poetry  out there sucks. I can freely admit that some of mine sucks lemon peels.

I can’t say I’m qualified to give advice to poets or would be poets. I have been writing poetry since I was in high school and have taken many creative writing and English courses regarding the subject. Still,  I think there are a lot better poets out in there in the word than me past and present. I am not going to get technical on you. But just give you three quick down and dirty lessons on the subject matter. From there  you can grow I believe to be a better poet.

I just know what I like to read as a poet and what I like to write as a poet. To me, when reading a poem, the subject matter is less important than how it is actually handled by the person writing it. You can take a great concept you wish to write a poem about;   be it love,  life, an adventure, or erotica and fuck it up quite easily.

I have read many blogs and I have read some very good poetry. On the flipside I have read some VERY bad poetry.  In those instances  I do not push the LIKE button or comment on the poem unless they wish a serious critique.


Rule #1 –

Example:  I see the world flying from me , never to return,  why must I be denied., why oh why, it’s so unfair, this world that I live in.   I feel down and out. Woe is me oh woe is me.   I’m in such pain why oh why…blah blah blah

The biggest problem with BAD poetry  is that the Poem just rambles on and on with no clear resolution at the end.  Give me something I can grab on to. Some epiphany you learned, a realization of life, a CLEVER way of stating the obvious… and wrap it up…Don’t take 20 Lines to say the  same thing you could have said in 10 lines.

So Rule #1  Don’t  Ramble on and on with no Point and repeat the same thing twice.


Rule#2 –

Example:  The night is cold,  and I feel very bold.   I love you so much and I miss your touch 

Secondly unless your a fifth grader and newly starting out in writing poetry…don’t rhyme just to rhyme. It makes me insane to read poetry where I can predict the words in every other next line. It’s like slow water torture for me. Basically do it when its appropriate.  When in doubt if you think it’s too much then be rest assured it probably is. And have you ever heard of alliteration and all the other forms of poetry writing,  as an alternate to the normal rhyme scheme? If not look them up. Get Educated,

 So Rule#2 Don’t Rhyme so damn much


 Rule #3 –

 Example:  She/he  hurt me in that way.  Because I did that thing. And  I hurt.   The  pedantic ethereal winds kissed my cheek and I let out long sigh  as the rockslide engulfed my being that encapsulated you. (wtf!)

And lastly  I hate when you give me your direct feelings in vague ways or you explain an experience in a much too abstract or technical way.  both ways hide what you are really trying to get across and feel inside that head of yours. Sure YOU may be getting it out of YOUR system..but it  does nothing for ME the reader of your poem. So don’t be lazy and don’t hit us with super symbolism or the dictionary  of words hardly ever used by 90% of the English speaking community.

Rule #3 –  Don’t keep what you really wish to say a secret with vague or abstract writing. Still be creative but don’t hide behind the words.


OKAY DONE with my lesson…now go out and play.

Excerpt from my Novel – The Fourth World – Meet Omar

Well you met Ivy and then you met Calvin.

Here is the final main character , Omar, from my first  novel called the Fourth World that I am currently working on for completion early this year which I aim to submit to various publishers.

I am trying not to give away too much story-wise but at the same time I want to get you guys interested and me revved up for what’s to come .  Besides, it also helps me focus better in the direction I wish to take them all in as far as their own personal character development. I want them to grow and you grow with them eventually as the pages turn so you feel your in each of their shoes as they get thrown into whatever pit of despair, dark forest,  or forgotten world they may find themselves.

Enjoy the last installment  in my third excerpt form the novel. More will come…but I just gotta write it first…:)


Chapter 3 – Great Expectations

“Omar! Ahora, mijo…get your butt downstairs, it’s time to eat.” Omar’s mother yelled at him from downstairs from somewhere probably near the kitchen.

“Coming!” Omar kept punching the buttons on the game controller staring ahead at the television in his bedroom. More minutes past.

“Omar! Muévete!” His father yelled at him from the hallway almost to his room.

Omar threw down the controller (but not before pausing it), jumped up, and turned off the television like a well practiced professional who had done it a thousand times.

His father came in his room not looking pleased just as Omar stood up from laying on the bed.

“I thought we told you no games for two weeks. Do we have to take it all out and store it at your grandmother’s house thirty miles away?” his father’s hulking frame intentionally barred the only way out of his room.

Omar didn’t look at his father as he stood waiting to leave.

“No.” Omar said simply.

“Well if we catch you playing it again, that’s what going to happen. You’re supposed to be doing your homework until they let you back. How’s that cut doing anyways.” Omar father reached a hand out as if to touch the stitches on the side of Omar’s head.”

Omar reflexively moved away from his father’s touch.

“Fine.” Omar said, still not looking at his father.

“He got you good didn’t he.  I can’t blame him from for it. Three on one. I’m not gonna ride you anymore about it, but I don’t want you thinking your going back to school to find an excuse to bump into him by accident. You stay as far as you can from him. Got me mijo?” Omar’s father walked a little closer to him to make sure he got the point.

“Look at me Omar, do we understand each other.”

It took everything he had to look his father in the face.

“I understand.”  Tears started to brim in his eyes and he quickly looked down.

“You’ve got this year, and then two more until you graduate. We just want you to stay clean until then. You’ll be the first mijo. The first one in the family to EVER graduate. Can you manage that. Don’t let your mother down. Your a smart kid so start acting like it.”

“Yes.” Omar simply said.

“Boys! Time to eat!” Omar’s mother yelled again from downstairs.

Omar’s father moved from barring the door to his room and Omar practically ran.


“So, you in Omar? We thought we’d let him get comfortable for a week  or two and let him think he’s safe. Then we’ll get him away from the school. You get first dibs since he busted you up side the head.” Omar heard Neil giggling like a little girl in the background of Jake’s phone.  He could imagine Jake smiling his smile that all the girl’s liked so well on him. He could hear it in his voice over the phone.

“Yeah, I’m in,  paybacks are paybacks right?” Omar said, talking quietly up in his room,  knowing if he got caught making a personal call on his cell his father would take it and everything else way in his room.

“That’s right baby now you’re talking. Time to open up a can of some whoop ass on the freak. Smart ass will remember this lesson for a long time to come.”  Jake said laughing along with Neil.

“Yeah boi!”  Neil yelled through the phone.

“Okay man, I’ll let you go, don’t want you in trouble with your Pops. We’ll pick your ass up on tomorrow for school. Don’t forget to wear your special helmet. I’m just fucking with you man. The exile will soon be over. The posse is back in town.” Jake said.

“Fuck you man and go posse. I’m out man”  Omar said, almost smiling but with no real strength behind the words. Omar hung up his phone. 

Grabbing a comic book from his nightstand, he flopped down on his bed, laid on his stomach, and started to read. He idly touched the stitches on the side of his forehead right above his temple, rubbing the length of it with his thumb. The feeling of it started to needle him. It was going to leave a scar, he just knew it. Then all over again the anger swelled up inside of him at what had happened that day. Stupid freak, why couldn’t he just shut the hell up for once.

He was glad the freak wasn’t gonna be there tomorrow. He didn’t know if he’d have the strength not to try something. Omar threw the comic book down on his bedroom floor; something he would have never done a year ago. Back then he had treated them like gold, putting each in their own plastic bag, taping them closed and storing each in a box he kept in his closet after finishing them.  Now they lay strewn everywhere throughout his bedroom.  He’s not sure why he even still bought them anymore.  He knew soon he would stop buying them all together, one day.

He looked at the clock and saw it was almost eleven. I guess it’s time, he thought.

Omar often like to stay awake as long as he could.  He liked lying in bed and thinking of nothing and losing himself in the nothing. That way the next day would take longer to arrive.  Because tomorrow there was always something, with his mom, his father, his friends, school. He like being trapped between moments, to just be alone between tomorrow and today.

Omar’s head hit the pillow as he tried to fight the sleep that he knew was coming.  A sleep that sped him through dreams he never remembered, no consolation for even that for closing his eyes. The light would always find its way back to him, to peek and pry it’s way in through the blinds of his bedroom and peel back another day which he would learn to love reluctantly and then do it all over again the next.

He never noticed his mother as she quietly entered his room and covered him with a blanket, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and turned off his lamp…..


Excerpt from – The Fourth World – Meet my next Character Calvin

I promised  I would showcase another main character in my upcoming first Fantasy Novel I am currently working on, called the – “The Fourth World“.

This character’s name is Calvin.  He will actually be the first character to be introduced in my Novel in the first two chapters.  I must stress  that he is not THEE character…there is no THEE character.  He is no Harry Potter, he is no Bilbo Baggins or Frodo,  the world will not soley rest on his shoulders but it will rest.

You met Ivy last week.  Now meet Calvin…and remember all these characters and the story itself  are a work in a progress, to be changed as the winds change in their mysterious paths around the Earth. Next week, I will introduce you to another character, Omar, to wrap up my main characters intros.




Calvin had always believed in magic. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. They could doubt all they wanted. There was a hidden world which we could not see sitting right in front of our faces, most everyone was too busy, too blind, or too stupid to see it. Calvin saw it in the trees as the distant winds kissed the leaves which flew through it’s branches. He spied it dancing in the fire amidst the embers at night; little tiny sprites hopping from log to log amidst the flames playing a game of tag. He smelled it in a wild rose growing in a crowded field of jostling weeds flinging its pheromones to attract the butterflies to alight upon its silken petals. He heard it in the babbling brook as the water played upon the rocks behind his home whispering to the frogs as it traveled on downriver. He felt it in the rough stone he caressed in the palm of his hand; an ancient power from ages past unearthed from the deep bowels of the earth from the crumblings of a mighty stone titan long dead. It was everywhere if you would only choose to see. The magic spoke to him because he chose to listen and he almost understood what it is saying


Chapter 1 – Reality Sets In

         Calvin tasted the blood that trickled down to his upper lip  which flowed from his nose. It had a sweet metallic taste. He liked the taste of his own blood. Calvin wasn’t a weird person don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t not into to that kind of stuff.  He just liked to sometimes pretend that he was Conan the Barbarian backed up against a wall, and that he was fighting an angry horde of ghoulish creatures hell bent on gutting him like a fish and eating his entrails as he watched. With sword in hand he would hack and slash, limbs would  fly. He would be scratched all to hell and bleeding from a dozen different wounds and smiling insanely because this could be his last day alive so why not go out smiling like a true warrior would upon meeting his death well met in battle. Yeah, he liked to have his mind go to places like that rather than be anywhere than where he was right now.

“Hold him down dammit he’s a squirmer! Fucking idiot, you see what he did to Omar? He’s crazy man!” Omar had it coming, Calvin told myself as he lay on the ground struggling under two other boys who each probably outweighed him by a hundred pounds.  They wouldn’t have caught him if one of the bystanders hadn’t tripped him while he was trying to get away. Trying to get away, besides talk bullshit, that’s all he ever did, until now.

Calvin was not a violent person, but he would admit, it had felt pretty good to see the plastic lunch tray connect solidly against the side of Omar’s head and watch him go down in a daze, not to mention the stunned looks of his buddies who were now holding him down who had put Omar up to flipping his lunch tray to the ground as he had walked on by. It was classic man, just classic.

“What the hell are you smiling about you sick bastard. I am so gonna end you, just wait. I always knew you were a weird little fucker. That’s why you don’t have any friends.”

Aah, Jake the jerk off, as Calvin liked to call him, a man, or boy better yet, of not many words. He guessed Jake’s dad couldn’t buy him a vocabulary to stuff inside that brain of his. His dad was more the type that likely bought him a good weight set and a big box of protein bars cuz he was crushing the hell out of Calvin’s left shoulder with his knees as he lay there on the ground.

“Get the fuck off me!” he yelled at them while his face was being pressed firmly into the dirt. He might as well have been yelling at the moon for all the good it did.  He was a punching bag to them. A distraction out of there boring day of the life they called school. He provided a service to them he guessed. They needed a reason to feel special while they were here.  Everyone wanted to feel special.

“Hey watch this Neil.” Jake said to the other kid that was holding Calvin. It was amazing, but Neil was actually more stupid than Jake was. The Smithsonian would have been really pleased to know a Neanderthal was still walking the earth. Neil had a prominent forehead, a squashed face which held a perpetually dull look, and knuckles that dragged the ground as he walked almost upright. He would have look great stuffed and mounted. It was a wonder he could tie his own shoes.  Oh wait, was that Velcro for laces instead? Calvin had a pretty good view at Neil’s feet at this particular time so he had a plenty of time to check them out.

“Whut?” Said Neil responding dumbly to him as Jake bent down close to Calvin’s ear. Then he heard it, the long drawing in sound of phlegm back into the throat.

It landed with a splat on the top of his forehead and traveled like a river down into his right eye blinding him and causing him to lose it entirely. Calvin thrashed and heaved and went into what he liked to call his insane berserker barbarian rage. This had little effect, but it did cause Jake to fall off from kneeling on Calvin’s back which eased some of the pain he had been feeling. He would take what he could get.

Calvin realized in that instance, that the audiences that come to fighting events come to watch entirely for selfish reasons.  It is not to support the fighter; they want something out of it for all the money they plunked down. Apparently being stuck at school was the payment and he was the entertainment and distraction for most of them this day.  They just stood around watching his shame to unfold. His pain in some sick way, was a voluntary or involuntary morbid thrill you got when watching a horror movie unfold knowing you feel bad for the victim, but not really because but what can you do?  They convinced themselves they were just a spectator to it all, that they were allowed to be insulated from it, please don’t ask for me to lend a hand they say, you must be crazy. Calvin was just another pathetic soap opera to be talked about between their friends at lunch hour, or in a text message or online, to be kept at a distance, and to not bog their day down. It was the status quo around here for most of them.

Their hand was on the dimmer switch that controlled the light of Calvin’s life into theirs and they could choose to let it in however much they thought they could take. Right now all those hands on all those switches were set to full off. They didn’t want to see him…just what was done to him. Calvin in that moment, hated them more than the ones who picked on him on a daily basis.

“Break it up! Break it up!”  The loud high screeching of a woman’s voice cut through the chaos that was his crazed mind and through the crowd of onlookers as well. Mrs. Kitchen, a teacher and woman of enormous proportions waddled over her way through the ring of kids to see what had caught all their attention. He heard her gasp out aloud so theatrically when she came upon the scene that Calvin almost laughed out loud.

Jake and Neil quickly let him go to show her they weren’t just trying to shove his head into the dirt and make him eat it.  He saw the crowd starting to disperse around him, the bloodshed was over; be about your way miscreants.

Calvin slowly got up from the ground and wiped the spit and grass clippings from his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Would someone like to tell me what’s going on? I found Omar back there picking himself off the ground and now I find Calvin doing pretty the same thing over here. What’s going on?” Her voice went to a higher octave on the shrill level factor if that was possible and she put her hands on her very wide hips, tapping her foot impatiently expecting an answer. Yep, she was your typical stereotype, they do exist.

“He hit Omar for no reason.” Neil said pointing at Calvin like he was fingering some criminal in a police line up.  Jake just kept quiet. 

“Is this true Calvin?”  She asked.

“Yes and no,” Calvin said, “Yes, I hit him, but I wouldn’t say it was for no reason. He had it coming, they like to provoke me.” and be damned with the consequences, Calvin was done caring anymore.

“Let’s see what Mr. Granderson has to say about all this. Let’s go.” She marched them all into the schools office area where they sat and waited while all the parents were called…..

Questions for Aspiring Authors Inspired by fellow writer Jodi Llewellyn

A fellow blogger, follower and most importantly writer like myself, Jodie Llewellyn posed the following questions below on her blog….she’s got a great blog by the way…go check it right  out HERE if you so choose. I follow her and I think you should as well.

Go check out her responses and her other followers…and perhaps share your own thoughts there or here also. I hope Jodi forgives me for stealing her stuff…but she’s got nice…stuff..:)..btw did anyone ever tell you have too many L’s in your name…

Below are my responses to her questions:

1. What are your grand ambitions as a writer?  Grand ambitions..HA..To  have one of my Novels be one of the FIRST books sitting on an astronaut’s bookshelf on the first settlement on Mars

2. Is there a type of character you always tend to write about?   A misunderstood person who overcomes adversity and ends up the hero  (the underdog of course)

3. How do you really know if you have talent or if you’re just wasting your time? By comparing myself to others tells me I have talent…I just need more discipline dammit…:)

4. What is your least favourite part about writing? Having the courage to sit down and write that first sentence.

5. If you could escape into just one book —like literally go INSIDE that book— which one would you choose? Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time Series

The Fourth World – One aspect of my Novel

Trickster – is at one and the same time the destroyer and creator, giver  and negator, he who dupes others and who is always duped himself….He knows neither good nor evil, yet he is responsible for both. He possesses no values, moral or social…yet through his actions all values come into being.

– Definition of the Trickster was borrowed from the great Sphere of Knowledge called the internet