Poetry

Doubts

“The truth is that I don’t know
if I can ever love you the way you deserve.”

Being willing to vow your life to another human being is a huge step. It’s admitting how much you love this person and the vows you make are the start of something new and beautiful. And as much as I love you, and appreciate all you’ve sacrificed for me, I often have doubts.

Not because of you or anything you’ve done, but because of me. The truth is that I don’t know if I can ever love you the way you deserve. Despite the fact that you continue to believe that being mine is not only right, but it’s the best decision you’ve ever made, I still doubt that I can measure up. But you never fail to assure me that I’m wrong.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Keep showing me that I’m wrong.
Maybe, one day, I’ll believe it.

Poetry

Grateful

“I loved you. For all that was good
and right and beautiful in this world.
And you brought me to life.”

I loved you. With every cell in my body, I loved you. I saw everything about you that was good and right and beautiful in this world. And you brought me to life. You gave me purpose and strength. But more than that, you gave me my voice back, after all these years of silence. For that, I will always love you for more than just being you. I will love you for inspiring me. For being a shoulder to lean on. For being everything I ever needed.

Even after everything that went wrong, I still love you. Not just for you, all you were and still are, but what you made me see in myself. You brought me to the light. You mean everything to me, and for that, I’ll always be grateful.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Sometimes I feel like a ghost of my former self. And after all that went wrong with me, everything changed. I’m forever lucky that my marriage is still strong, even though it seems like everything is different.

Poetry

Dirges

I wanted you to fight to live.
But somewhere along the way,
you forgot all the reasons why you should.

Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you slip away? How everything anyone ever said no longer seemed to matter? I tried to make you see how much the world needed you. But something within you was already lost. Even though your heart was beating, your mind already decided you’d had enough.

It was like nothing else. The tragedy of losing you. And now, all that’s left of you is a gaping chasm in my chest that continues to beat. Like a dirge that echoes your name.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Accepting your fate is one thing.
But seeing death as an escape
is not the answer.
It’s never the answer.

Poetry

Tell-Tale Heart

“These memories of us
are like ghosts, coming back
to haunt me at the worst times.”

I’ve locked all the memories I have of you in a heart-shaped box, covering it beneath the floorboards in a last effort to move on. As if that might relieve me of some of this pain from losing you forever. But I know it won’t. And as I sit here, listening to its whispers, like a tell-tale heart, echoing reminders of the past and what will never be, I crumble beneath the surface a little more with every passing minute. “Please go away,” I beg to those whisperings, knowing they won’t ever stop haunting me. But I’ve accepted my fate — accepted that these ghosts will always haunt me at the worst time.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Please, my ghosts, go away.
Let me have some peace.

Poetry

Free Shoulder

“I’ll be there if you need me.
The only problem is that
I’m not the one you need.”

I may not be able to fix anything that’s gone wrong. I may not be the one you want to turn to when you feel like drowning in your item ocean of sadness. But let me tell you something. I’m not like most people. I’ll continue being loyal. I’ll be there if you need me. Because I’ve got a free shoulder. The only problem is that the shoulder you seek belongs to someone else.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Whether you need me or not,
I’m here.
That’s what matters.

Poetry

Jagged Puzzle

“Everything about you tells a story
— good or bad, it doesn’t matter —
and those stories should be known.”

No matter how the light catches, all I see is beauty in the details. Your every flaw tells a story — whether good or bad, it doesn’t matter — and those stories deserve to be known. Don’t cover them. Don’t hide them. Don’t pretend they don’t exist. Because if they are part of this view before me, then they make up each piece of a jagged puzzle into a masterpiece. They make it beautiful. They make it unique. They make it whole.

© Sarah Doughty
2027

It’s beautiful, seeing these details.
Don’t hide them away.

Poetry

Fated

“I’m not sure words can express
how lucky I feel to be yours.”

It was your determination that drew me in. Your confidence. It was the words you spoke when you promised that giving us a try wasn’t going to end with disaster. It was the devotion afterward. The way you wouldn’t give up. That you kept proving again and again that it was the right decision. That there were never any regrets. And whenever I asked why you loved me, your answer was always the same.

“Didn’t you know? We were meant to be together.”

I’m not sure words can express how lucky I feel to be yours.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Fate – (noun) predestined; determined by an otherworldly nature.
Love – (noun) non-quantifiable; a deep affection beyond what words can measure.
On Writing, Random Thoughts

Q&A With A Wordsmith: On Easter Eggs

Heya Lovelies,

As a writer taking a rather unique path, I often receive a wide range of questions. So far, I’ve covered some broad topics which you can find here and I’ll continue to shed some light on further questions. With luck, you’ll gain some understanding and insight along the way.

If you have a question you’d like me to answer, feel free to comment or drop me an email.


Question:
How do you weave Easter Eggs into your books? Is it a form of foreshadowing for you?

Answer:

Last week, I covered the basics of mysteries or, more accurately, revealing clues in an effective manner in the story as opposed to either giving away too much to fast, or not enough for too long. But when it comes to Easter eggs, that’s a  completely different story. 

Take season one of Stranger Things, as an example. When Hopper heads to the morgue to check Will’s body, he discovers that the guard — someone that shouldn’t have been there at all — was reading Cujo by Stephen King. As a means of distraction, he comments about it, only to punch the guy unconscious a moment later to gain access to the body. 

Now, contrary to what some people may think, neither this show nor its story is a creation of Stephen King’s mastermind, despite his creations — his books, movies, and television shows — being riddled with Easter eggs just like this. In fact, I read in an interview that the creators of the show are big fans of the legendary writer, so they made the decision to pay homage to him with a little egg of their own.

When I write those little nuggets of colorful goodness, odds are that I’m not doing it as part of a plot driver. And, To me, it’s not exactly a form of foreshadowing, either. At least, it’s not directly important to the overall plot. And since my published body of fiction writing has mostly revolved around one intertwined universe, those eggs are often thrown in as side note — something with very little fanfare or emphasis. 

Here and there in my books, you might come across something like an offhand mentioning of something in pop culture. For instance, in Safe, there’s a scene that refers to Alfred Hitchcock and two of his famous tales involving a disturbed motel owner and lots and lots of disruptive birds.

Leading up to Listen, there’s some very specific setting details and dialogue phrasing that are hidden in plain sight. Many people wouldn’t really think those things matter until that big reveal occurs. And suddenly, readers are experiencing facepalm moments and wondering why they missed these little tidbits and didn’t otherwise give them more thought. Yet, at the same time, knowing that big reveal was inevitable all along. In the interest of not disclosing any major spoilers, I’ll let you try to figure out what they were for yourself.

Those eggs were too insignificant (to me anyway) to serve as a specific foreshadowing, but in a way, I was still dangling the clues out there like low-lying fruit all along. 

While my Easter egg career is still in its infancy, I’ve still had tons of fun weaving them in. And I look forward to exploring other things I can incorporate into my tales. 

If you’re wondering if you can — or even should — throw in some into your own tales, then by all means, do so. They’re what you make of them. 


Coming up, I’ll cover the most difficult aspects of my artistic process and how I power through it. I’ll give you a hint: a big part of that is self doubt.

Until next time,
Sarah

P. S. If you want to see for yourself what books I have to offer, find your FREE copies at your favorite retailer

P. P. S. If you are interested in learning more about me, my books, and other various, important topics on a monthly basis, along with access to a free, ever-growing resource library of downloadable content, sign up for my newsletter.

Poetry

Remembrance

“And though I often ask myself if it was
the right decision, I still remember us.”

I ran away from you. Not because you weren’t right for me. But because you were. You were my everything and all I could see in our future was pain. Running away felt like the right thing at the time. And though I often ask myself if it was the right decision, I still remember us and it reminds me of all we were.

I’ll never know what it feels like to touch your skin, but maybe that’s for the best. Everything was and always will be perfect in my mind.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

I still remember.
How could I ever forget?

Poetry

Smoke And Mirrors

“I lived for those moments.
The ones that made me feel like I was a queen.”

It was that smile of yours. The way you spoke. The words you said. I lived for those moments. The ones that made me feel like I was flying. Like I was a queen. By your side. And that was my kryptonite — believing you were genuine. It might have taken me too long to see through it, but my eyes are open now. Without the rosy filter to blind me to the truth. It was never me you loved. It was never my friendship. Or my devotion you cherished. It was all for you.

And that was my fault for trying to believe this world isn’t as cold as I thought.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Another day, another lesson.