Slumberland
By Derra Sabo
Genre: Nonfiction
About the Book
How do you dream? Are your dreams in color or black 'n white? Do they feel surreal or all too real? Well, I'd like to introduce you to my little slice of bittersweet. These subconscious woods hold every fear and my anxieties masked are as wolves. Nightmares that play on a loop for weeks, even months at a time. Symptoms of waking in cold sweats and shaking. The only moments of peace are found in the sporadically studded dreams that happen every now and again. These woods house every past demon as well as certain past versions of who I once was. This place is worse than death, yet it inspires. So......Before my alarm goes off, before I take the last train out of here, I take one last glance back, one last glance at all of the Polaroids, pinned to every tree branch, Polaroids of every dream and nightmare that have stolen my nights since '95......These dreams...these woods...this place...it's my upside-down. This is my Slumberland...
About the Author
My name is Derra Sabo. I am California born and raised. I spend my days writing, sipping on coffee and listening to music. When I'm not busy typing away, I love spending time with my family and friends. Days spent at the beach ended by burgers at In-N-Out. Growing up I wanted to become a fashion designer/drummer, but somewhere along the way writing grabbed ahold of me and I've never looked back. Over the years writing has aided in healing from my past. Being born and living with a rare disorder led to being bullied throughout life as well as surgeries growing up. Writing and music are my sanity.
Interview with author!
What do you find most challenging about the writing process, and how do you deal with it?
The editing process is the most challenging aspect of the writing process for me. I have a tendency to over edit. No amount of ice cream can morph the editing process into an enjoyable experience, although I have met a few writers who enjoy editing. Anytime I am ready to edit I keep in mind that simple phrase: less is best. You’ll never be 100% happy with your writing as there will always be new thoughts that will come into your mind. The trick is to become content with your current project and save all those new ideas for a new project.
When and where do you do your writing?
The morning is the time I like to set aside for writing, just after breakfast. I brew up a cup of coffee, chose a playlist of tunes and start typin' away. I tried writing at night, however, I found myself getting so stuck in the writing zone that I was losing major sleep, up for days at a time. Writing in the morning and setting an alarm to go off for lunch keeps my schedule simple. Plus, living in an apartment complex, the mornings are quite peaceful as the afternoons get busy with life.
What have you learned about promoting your books?
Promoting is challenging, as you are not only promoting your book in hopes of getting a exposure and sales, but you’re promoting yourself as an author and as a person. I struggle with promoting, but I am constantly studying up on ways to promote.
What are you most proud of as a writer?
I am not one who is proud of my work, it’s always been a difficultly of mine. I am, however, very humbled by all of the kind comments, messages and reviews left by those who have read my books. To know that my words reach out in a way that have inspired others, have them feel less alone in their struggles and able to find peace with their pasts, just makes a writer feel all the feels. I guess I’m proud of that.
If you could have dinner with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and what would you talk about?
Stephen King, hands down. Oh my goodness, just the thought of that is electric. As far as topics of conversation, I would love to talk about anything. To be able to listen to Mr. King’s points of view on life. I’d be taking mental notes.
Links
Facebook: www.facebook.com/hazeleyes1984
Twitter: www.twitter.com/derra_nic
Instagram: www.instagram.com/derra_nic
Website: www.genuinelyderra.com
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Slumberland-Derra-Sabo-ebook/dp/B0868423R9
Excerpt:
Here I stand…
I’ve stood in this exact spot, in this exact place before…many times…
This place is always disturbingly comforting in a peculiar way…this place has been my little slice of subconscious doom since ’95…this place is all my own…
These woods, a vision pulled from a Hitchcock film, holds my past intertwined within the roots of every hauntingly beautiful tree…
An above sky shaded a midnight black with doom n’ gloom clouds spread across its infinite horizon and luminous diamonds sporadically studded…a brain freeze breeze swirls throughout causing every goosebump to run up my spine…
The various growling echoes stirring behind the deeply hidden gutters are where the disabled demons reside, they bite the edges of my ears…the fear from these demons nearly diminished, yet a sting still exists…
I stand here, my feet at the edge of this freshly dug grave…the smell of a fresh storm builds, I pull the hood over my head and begin…
In goes every scar that clouded my mind. This permanent bruise on my back given to me from the biggest mistake in life, yeah that goes in next. Now it’s time to rip off the invisible mark of shame that had its claws dug into the small scar on my neck and the scar on my forearm hidden underneath this ink…
Every societal bullet has been pulled from my chest and tossed in, one by one, the soft clank is so satisfying…the confusion from the unanswered question marks attached to my biological father have been burned, this jar holding those ashes, in it goes…
Every moment captured on Polaroid of being bent, cracked and broken all tossed in…
Now, a deep chilled breath and strike this match, for a second, I stare at the tiny flame dancing on the tip, I can hear Death Valley by Fall Out Boy playing in the background…
I close my forest green eyes, make one final wish and drop the match…the flames growing instantaneously, as I open my eyes a neon black ring surrounds these forest green irises, the same neon black surrounds the glowing teal flame that resides in the center of my ribcage…
Witnessing every ounce of past pain burn, this moment is medical. My lungs fill with refreshing oxygen and this weight lifted more with each joyful tear…
Thunder begins to roll in as the sky also begins to sprinkle. Time to go, I know I’ll be back, the dreams always pull me back…
Tucking the 22 Glock into my back pocket and grabbing the Louisville slugger, I begin to make my way to the place where yellow surrounds, that place is where I find subconscious peace…My heart, in all of its titanium gears and gold stitched glory now beating on my sleeve…
These woods and I will always be connected…11 is somewhere playing Super Nintendo, keeping warm by a sparkling bonfire and eating one too many s'mores. She keeps our much-needed innocence alive. Swift watches guard making sure that the wolves stay at bay...17 rests peacefully under the giant oak tree. She was a tough soul, just not as tough as this monster of a world…22 protects our past selves, protects the rare dreams that have morphed from this slum and protects these woods. Machete strapped to her steel spined back, her observant mind always scanning for dangerous disturbances. The warrior she always wished she could be, now she is.
Before my alarm goes off I take one last glance back, one last glance at all of the Polaroids pinned to every tree branch, polaroids of every dream and nightmare that have stolen my nights since ’95…
These dreams…these woods…this place…it’s my upside down…
This is my Slumberland.
“I'll take the last train home..." - Blink 182
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