Happy Friday, Prosers! Let’s start the weekend off on the “write” foot, shall we?

This week’s featured Proser, @AyeMich, is an insanely busy, multi-talented artist. On any given day, when she’s not on Prose, you’ll find her live tweeting the latest event in pop culture or sharing details about a recent travel adventure to Los Angeles.

We were fortunate enough to track her down for an interview, which you'll find below...

P: Where are you from, and what kind of work do you do outside of writing?

AM: I was born in Walnut Creek, California, but I live in a small town called Pittsburg, Ca. I work for a non-profit organization that deals with insurances of all kinds.

P: What is your relationship with writing and how has it evolved?

AM: My relationship with writing is a complicated one, I think. I love it to death, but it also infuriates me at times. And by that, I mean the entire process. Sometimes, I have ideas that I can't pen down for the life of me. It will not translate.

I started writing when I was really young, so I'm confident in saying that my writing has evolved greatly. I've learned structure, which I think is one of the most important parts of being a writer. Dialogue used to be difficult for me, but the older I get, the easier I find it to be and I think it's because I have a lot more life experience now.

P: Briefly discuss the value that reading adds to both your personal and professional life.

AM: I've always been a reader. I think it is extremely important for writers to read other works. Personally, not only does it give me reprieve from my own work, but it also allows my mind to shut off for a while. As a writer, that can be pretty difficult.

As for professionally, it creates ideas. Not only that, but you learn from reading other people's work. I believe it is highly important for a writer to be a reader as well. It goes hand in hand, really.

P: How would you describe your current literary ventures and what can we look forward to in future posts?

AM: In all honesty, I'm all over the place right now. It's tedious. The entire writing process for any project is tedious and time consuming. I'm just now finishing my first novel and I've already begun both the sequel and another novel altogether.

In the future, I think I'd like to stick more to screenwriting. I'll blog here and there, but for the most part, I'm working on a few things that are going to take time and commitment and they're all pretty much coming back to back.

P: What called you to Prose.? What keeps you coming back? Discuss.

AM: I found Prose through Twitter, I believe and the one thing that brought me here was the idea of being able to write poetry. It's been so long since I've been able to, you know? So, that's what brings me back is the challenges. I love them. There are so many of them and I often find myself opening the app and staying on it for an hour or two at a time. There's also the people. It's so easy to meet/talk to new people and other members. It's sometimes hard to get to know others on sites like this, but in Prose everyone is so inviting and invested. It's great.

Following up on what I'm doing now: I just recently finished filming the trailer for a new web series that I'm working on. My writing/creating partner and I have done so much work since October of 2014 to get this off the ground and we've finally got an amazing cast of people who I can't wait to work with further.

A little background about the web series itself and the process:

My writing partner, Adrienne, approached me with an idea back in early October about a possible web series and I was on board from the beginning. We spent many nights on the phone and over Skype discussing characters and their personalities, plot points, etc. It took a lot of brainstorming for this project to come together and I know that we're both so very proud of what it's become and where it's going.

P: What’s it like to collaborate with another writer?

AM: I'd never actually collaborated on anything before. Not at this caliber anyway. So, it was really interesting to see how easy it came to the both of us. We're almost always on the same page and when we aren't, we simply talk it out until we come to an agreement. It's been fun and exciting and sometimes stressful, but not to the point where it becomes a problem. We're really good at compromising, surprisingly. And it's always good to have someone to bounce ideas off of. I think that's the best part because, as a writer, you have so many ideas at once and if you have someone on the other end acting as a sort of sounding board, it becomes easier to decipher those ideas. Not only that, but having someone else to bring forth ideas only creates more and better ideas in the long run. It's definitely something I'm glad to be a part of.

P: Have you encountered any surprises with this project?

AM: There have been a few. Not only with writing, but with filming, too. In writing, there have been changes here and there that, when writing you thought were amazing, but then you edit and you're like, "why, exactly, did we do this?"

There's also the growth of a character before your very eyes that you weren't expecting. I know that we have one character who was initially supposed to be this sweet and laid back character and she turned into this sassy, no-nonsense kind of woman and it was honestly the best thing for the character, but it happen all on its own. Characters have a way of taking on a life of their own.

If you'd like to find @AyeMich on the web, follow her @amhillwrites and @beyourbreeze on Twitter, as well as on Facebook at facebook.com/ashlyemichelle.

Ashlye’s writing partner, Adrienne, can be found at @AdrienneMarie90 on Twitter and Instagram. You may also follow their new web series @COLGseries on Twitter.

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This #FridayFeature blog series is designed to help you get to know your fellow community members better. Would you like to nominate someone for interview? Have a question you’re dying to ask of someone on the platform? Send us a private message here or email info@theprose.com anytime.

You carve fissures into my mind

Destroying all rationality

Tattoo your initials into my heart

A claim that only I can believe

Old scars reopened so easily

When you look at me that way

A decision I know I'll regret

before it is even made

And after I surrender everything to you

You walk out the door like you always do

Once again I realize it was never real

Because to you

there is no difference between lust and love

you took a cigarette

and lit the tip,

blew smoke into the clouds

and sparked flames

between the sky and

your lips.

you dotted the heavens

with a lighter

and i watched

as the stars burned.

My name is Jack and I’ve got style in spades...see what I did there? Anywhoo...most people think I am pretty rad but there is this one girl that isn’t so impressed. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why. I took her on a date and didn’t spare any expense. I had been asking her for months and months and months. Some would say I wore her down but I think she always wanted to say yes but just was shy. Like, really, really shy. I mean, c’mon...what else could it be.

Back to the sick date I took her on. I picked her up in my dad’s ride. Me being 35 and only having worked graveyard shift at Micky D’s doesn’t allow for a dope ride like he has...AND since I live with my parents, he knows I have to come home with it sometime. LOL. I told that joke to her as well but she didn’t think it was as funny as I did. Some people lack the wicked sense of humor I have. Oh well, I can be funny for the both of us. I told her that.

I picked her up at her house which, get this, she owns. I was like, you must have inherited money or something. She gave me a weird look when I said that. I am sure it was a look of “this guy is so mysterious”.

First stop: my work. I forgot that I hadn’t locked up one of the freezers plus I wanted to get a large fries “on the house” for her. I think when I came back out to the car (my dad’s car) with large fries and said “got these for free”, she was pretty impressed with my pull.

Second stop: the beach. And not the beach where it’s all sandy and dirty but the beach that has barnacle covered rocks. Feeling close to nature and microorganisms brings all back to center and I just knew it would bring us close. Who doesn’t look at sea urchins and think this is the perfect date...this guy is a keeper. I pulled out 2 bottles of Boones. “Wild Island” because it’s the best. I’d also brought a box of Ritz crackers, the box with 4 packages of crackers, not two. I poured the wine into a couple red keg cups that I had just grabbed from the house. I had a really good feeling that the wine would warm us up while sitting in the misty, 48 degree Seattle weather.

I looked at her. She was shaking. I said “don’t be nervous”. She said “I’m not, I’m freezing”. Funny girl. As she started to say something that sounded like “I really want to go home” I put my finger up to her lips to shush her. It felt right in the moment. I said “let’s just sit back and try to see the stars in the sky thru the clouds”. Everyone knows that when you are looking at the hundreds of stars in the sky, you feel somehow insignificant and more vulnerable. Like, even though there are over a hundred stars in the sky, there is only one of me. Crazy.

Well this is where things went sideways. There was a bus stop directly across the street from “our beach”. Without saying another word, she got up and headed that way. Left her keg cup and everything. I said “hey, where are you going?“. Her response was “anywhere away from here”. Whatevs THAT is supposed to mean. I yelled out “you don’t even know where that bus is headed!“. She said “doesn’t matter”. Weird...I didn’t think we’d be playing these love games so early in our relationship. So I laughed and waved to her. What a kitten she is.

She got on the bus and left and I finished my Boones and ritz crackers. I killed the rest of her fries too. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be coming back and they smelled so good. I decided right then and there I would play her little game but it was also nice just being on the beach spending time with my favorite person...me.

So how did I figure out that she wasn’t all that impressed with me you ask? She told me later and it was also in the restraining order. I still think this is a big game we are playing and besides, you only get one shot at this type of guy. I’m sure she knows that. Why be with a zero when you can be with a hero. I say that to every girl I meet. They love it.

Well, that’s the long and short of it. Absence make the heart grow fonder and she’s a butterfly so I am going to release her and if she doesn’t come back than it wasn’t meant to be and has no idea when a good thing is staring her right in the face. As they say, you can lead a beautiful horse to water....

It was a blue shell left from the beach expedition. Three outcomes resting on four fingers, while ten mountains crumbled. My dad growled at the morning drizzle. A deep hunger tempted by slices of nostalgia. He lifted the tide, making sure no starfish could breathe. It was possible to break a leg with no movement. Afraid of the ocean at night. I couldn’t find myself amongst the plastic toys, their eyes never fooled me. Campfires burned brighter when more secrets were kept. We spent the afternoons looking for places to hide our belongings. There were too many clocks in the house, but the ticking helped me sleep. Dreams left me wondering what was real. I wanted to change my name to “Crash”. Bright windows across the street tickled my imagination, but only the ones that flickered. Separate lives, but similar deaths. The hero’s cape that was always getting ketchup stains. Reading protected me from doing the chores. I never knew what he did at work so I used my imagination. Souvenirs only last until the next adventure. There’s no point in taking things you’ll never bring back. I’ve caught myself looking away in a mirror. Now go back to sleep.

The demons are here again

Lurking inside my mind

As i remember the earlier events

It's almost three a.m

The start of the unholy hour

I felt my chest tightened

As they stare at me

They look at me as if i'm some kind of an object

I remembered my declamation piece before

The lines "why are you staring at me?with my eyes i cannot see,

But i know you're all starimg at me"

They smile that fake smiles

But i know there are things running through their mind

I can't breath anymore

I want to be invisible

But it seems in the demons eyes

I always stood out

I don't want that to happen again

I couldn't sleep coz' whenever i close my eyes i see them

Laughing at me--- the demons

They never left me...

I woke up at 2 a.m. for no reason except nerves. I read, writhed, pondered weird pains in my body. I watched the windows of the door, each screw making their rounds, peeking in, watching my body waste here with a pulse. A deputy walked by, ducked down and slid some postcards under my door. I’d finally started fading when I saw the blur of him stop outside the door and send the mail through. I reached for my glasses and looked at the postcards. My sister had gone to a store somewhere and had two postcards made, one with Angel and one with Diablo. Angel was on her back looking up at me, her little paws curled into her chest, her smile. The other was Diablo, in the back seat of the van, both of the photos were from my facebook page. Seeing Angel made me stand from the bed, my bare feet on the cold floor in my boxers, in the cold of this place. I stepped over to the wall and pressed my back against it, let the cold punish me for not being there when she died. I slid down to the concrete and stared at the photo. I ran my finger down her blaze, adorable and white, running down her forehead and snout, her eyes so loving. “Angel.” Tears hit the card. I held it and cried, then I sobbed. I grabbed the one of Diablo from the slab. I flipped them over. She wrote that she thought I could use some friendly faces to keep me company. I set their faces on the floor in front of me. I hadn’t seen their faces in months. I’d never see Angel again. And I knew I’d never see Diablo again, I sensed it. I looked at his eyes, one blue, one half blue, his short fur I could never escape, his movie star smile. I kissed the postcards and held them over my heart. I sat there and bawled. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t, I couldn’t give this place my rage, I wouldn’t let the hacks know I was in pain. I stared at the postcards here, in a jail cell, my bare back frozen against the wall, my heart dead in the eyes of my little girl, dead in the memory of Diablo. I sat here and cried until I was out of tears, and I had to stuff the postcards into my legal mail so I wouldn’t look at them. I dressed and sat on the edge of the slab without blinking. The screws walked by and I sat here, I sat here and I wanted to bring death to so many people.   

I watched the cell become brightened at 5 a.m. A stark brightness, a dead brightness that is nothing short of sterilizing. I watched the zombies walk by the door for meds and razors and breakfast, and at 9 a.m. I was sitting in the day room watching the outside and it was bad today, more than depressing, Helena, much more. Four guys sat at the table to my left talking about Camaros, a Chevelle one of them had and lost, a ’66. Outside nine jumpsuits walked the concrete, Mexicans in threes twice, Mexicans in twos and one speed freak. I went back to the cell and stayed here all day and night. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t do anything but think about what used to be.  

If it can make you stronger

it can kill you

personally, I like

the sentiment

but respectfully disagree

Sunday in the diner

walking in, a homeless guy

hits me and my buddy

up for

one dollar

to get a dollar burger

my buddy waits by the door

and I think about it

the homeless guy mentions

something about showing me

some kind of homeless card

or crazy card he has

and I pull a five-spot from

my wallet

he snatches it:

"Thanks, man. You're badass."

He walks off and I follow

my buddy inside and he looks at

me and smiles

I scratch my protruding gut:

"Tell me something I don't know, motherfucker."

We laugh and get our booth

order and eat while I watch

more homeless out

the window

peppering the outside

full with the scrubbed-clean

after-worship crowd

as they begin to pile in

for breakfast

I think about them

clean like soap

every Sunday

the industry of Christ

if we want to truly

help the homeless

and kill the national

deficit, provide true

and humanely

accessible health care,

and all the etceteras

that follow these,

tax the churches

but I take my thoughts

of these dead horse thoughts

of all this

and watch the sunlight

battle through

a bright grey sky

and the coffee

begins its coursing

while I remember all

the love and hate

and platitudes and

erase them from my

mind at once

and realize that because or

in spite of

everything around me

I am happy

and think back to my favorite

Nietzsche quote:

The Trouble With Happiness

"Now everything I touch turns out to be wonderful. Now I love any fate which comes my way. Who feels like being my fate?"

he stretched my heart within an inch of its breaking point

and it was that inch between my toes and the cliff

the inch of his skin still touching mine

that held every inch of me together

inching towards oblivion

we used to be infinity

now he's inches

of my destruction

pedaling the streets of

California

head full of draining

garbage, of waste

looking around, seeing what's waiting

feeling ready to either

embrace what's left with resignation or to

embrace it with what I know is right to

be true

as it is with the words

with how we clean our teeth or

suffer the damages

out there pedaling

four cups of caffeine

going toe to toe with

the head cold

pouring sweat toward

a hill

thinking of summer waiting to the north

while a band from there

plays on in my headphones

while I crank past two bums

on the grass and ride off the curb

toward the hill and I think about

how we destroy what we love

not with action but with inaction

I shift into the lowest gear

to punish my cold

while the sweat pours out

and the guitars thunder

beautifully around the

stanza:

Augustino

With his eyes once a shining sea

I said he's half a shadow, god don't

let that be me...

up the hill

suppress the cough

the anger

level out and breathe

watch the leaves and sun

and remember that

we are here

for just so long

and the time

we have

might be nothing

in the big picture of

things

but for me

it's all I know

and what stems from that

is a fist of years grown

into miles and stories

and novels

a fist of colored fingers

with branches confused

and leaves stained

with decision

both bad and good

the base

planted in blood

and poems.