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Many newcomers will see the blurb on the back of my book, think, "Cool, a blind poet," and then come away from reading it thinking, "BUT WAIT! How does she imagery?"
This is a perfectly reasonable question, especially for those who don't know me personally. I've answered this on a number of occasions since publishing, but I thought it might be cool to share here in case anyone else was wondering.
So, close your eyes. I see a little more than the light you see through your eyelids. My laptop monitor is a featureless, glowing rectangle (sometimes it's not even a rectangle). I can make out Jordan's silhouette if the lamp on the endtable next to him is turned on. I can see the sky if it's blue enough, grass if it's green enough, or a firetruck if it's close enough. Things like that. But my vision isn't functional enough that I can't walk without my white cane or read/write without Braille or speech output. So for all intents and purposes, I tell most people that I have light perception. It's simpler that way.
My condition is called Cone/Rod Dystrophy, and believe it or not, literally about half of my mom's side of the family is blind. It's actually kind of neat, so I don't want you to feel toooo sorry for us. Blindness can be a pain at times, but blind folks in my family (and everywhere) experience fullness of life. It's just another lens to look through, if you will.
I digress, however slightly. Cone/Rod Dystrophy is a degenerative condition that affects the retinas starting during fetal development and, depending on the strength of the gene causing it, can result in total blindness later in life. This is true in my family's case, as the mutation was particularly strong. Most people I know with CRD retain partial vision and might have one or two other family members with the same condition. If you think of your eye as a camera and your brain as a laptop, your retinas and optic nerves serve as connections between the two. If something is fairly wrong with either of those things, the pictures can be corrupted or even lost.
All told, I had a bit more vision growing up, hence the visual memory evident in my poetry. Even for my love of words, stories come to me in picture form, so I'm all about painting word pictures.
Synesthesia also has considerable bearing on my imagery. I mention it a little in my book, but I'll explain a bit more here. Etymologically, the word "synesthesia" means "senses together," so synesthetes associate senses with each other. For me it's colors. Music, voices, and some ambient sound have color; words and numbers have color in both print and Braille; textures and pain have color; and smell and taste sometimes even have color. It's a harmless condition and one that has been highly stigmatized, but thankfully we're moving into a more accepting space where synesthesia is concerned. Honestly, I think it's a gift; it's like my visual cortex just said, "I'm bored!" and started making things up. It's really enriched my life. I rarely misspell words, I can do mental math pretty quickly, my recall with phone numbers and birthdays makes me my family's calendar ... the list goes on.
I started incorporating synesthesia into my poetry when I discovered other writers in Deviant Art's literature community who had managed it beautifully. Sometimes my synesthetic poetry is literally, "I see this when I hear that"; other times it's more deeply embedded. In my book, "Earl Grey" actually details a synesthetic experience I had while drinking Earl Grey tea. And here's another fun fact: John Bramblitt, my amazing friend who painted the artwork featured on my cover, is also a blind synesthete! Be sure to check out his paintings and his memoir!
I would say you can open your eyes now, but many of you had to in order to finish reading this. Thanks as ever for your support and for stepping into my world!
XXOO,
M
This is a perfectly reasonable question, especially for those who don't know me personally. I've answered this on a number of occasions since publishing, but I thought it might be cool to share here in case anyone else was wondering.
So, close your eyes. I see a little more than the light you see through your eyelids. My laptop monitor is a featureless, glowing rectangle (sometimes it's not even a rectangle). I can make out Jordan's silhouette if the lamp on the endtable next to him is turned on. I can see the sky if it's blue enough, grass if it's green enough, or a firetruck if it's close enough. Things like that. But my vision isn't functional enough that I can't walk without my white cane or read/write without Braille or speech output. So for all intents and purposes, I tell most people that I have light perception. It's simpler that way.
My condition is called Cone/Rod Dystrophy, and believe it or not, literally about half of my mom's side of the family is blind. It's actually kind of neat, so I don't want you to feel toooo sorry for us. Blindness can be a pain at times, but blind folks in my family (and everywhere) experience fullness of life. It's just another lens to look through, if you will.
I digress, however slightly. Cone/Rod Dystrophy is a degenerative condition that affects the retinas starting during fetal development and, depending on the strength of the gene causing it, can result in total blindness later in life. This is true in my family's case, as the mutation was particularly strong. Most people I know with CRD retain partial vision and might have one or two other family members with the same condition. If you think of your eye as a camera and your brain as a laptop, your retinas and optic nerves serve as connections between the two. If something is fairly wrong with either of those things, the pictures can be corrupted or even lost.
All told, I had a bit more vision growing up, hence the visual memory evident in my poetry. Even for my love of words, stories come to me in picture form, so I'm all about painting word pictures.
Synesthesia also has considerable bearing on my imagery. I mention it a little in my book, but I'll explain a bit more here. Etymologically, the word "synesthesia" means "senses together," so synesthetes associate senses with each other. For me it's colors. Music, voices, and some ambient sound have color; words and numbers have color in both print and Braille; textures and pain have color; and smell and taste sometimes even have color. It's a harmless condition and one that has been highly stigmatized, but thankfully we're moving into a more accepting space where synesthesia is concerned. Honestly, I think it's a gift; it's like my visual cortex just said, "I'm bored!" and started making things up. It's really enriched my life. I rarely misspell words, I can do mental math pretty quickly, my recall with phone numbers and birthdays makes me my family's calendar ... the list goes on.
I started incorporating synesthesia into my poetry when I discovered other writers in Deviant Art's literature community who had managed it beautifully. Sometimes my synesthetic poetry is literally, "I see this when I hear that"; other times it's more deeply embedded. In my book, "Earl Grey" actually details a synesthetic experience I had while drinking Earl Grey tea. And here's another fun fact: John Bramblitt, my amazing friend who painted the artwork featured on my cover, is also a blind synesthete! Be sure to check out his paintings and his memoir!
I would say you can open your eyes now, but many of you had to in order to finish reading this. Thanks as ever for your support and for stepping into my world!
XXOO,
M
Checking In
Hi, everyone, It's been so long. I miss connecting with you all and supporting each other's work. As many of you know, I am legally blind and use my computer with the aid of screen reading software. Unfortunately, the new Deviant Art platform is not currently compliant with accessibility guidelines. I was able to hobble along for a while, but screen reader compatibility has continued to deteriorate. I am in dialogue with dA's developers about this and am hopeful things will turn around, but it could be a while. As such, I wanted to let you know I'm writing again and am directing the flow of content to my Facebook author page for now. Hope to connect with you there, and hope to be back here soon. Warmly, Mel https://www.facebook.com/melfinefrockpoetry
On a Whim: The Story of How My Book Came to Be
On October 7, 2015, I self-published a book of poetry with the help of a few friends who served as cheerleaders and accountability buddies. The book came as a surprise to many, though, because I did it in secret. Not the best marketing move--you're supposed to anticipate a book release with lots of preamble--but I honestly had no idea if it would even work out. Indie is a tough field, and poetry is a niche genre besides. And I was right--my book has by no means been a bestseller--but I'm still glad I did it.
The reason I'm writing about this right now is because today is second anniversary to August 20, 2015, the day I decided to up and do i
Announcing Melissa Foster's Touched by Love!
Touched by Love
By Melissa Foster
Fiercely independent Janie Jansen has always believed there were worse things in life than being blind, and she’s spent her life proving it. She’s moved away from her overprotective parents, built a life in New York City, and is one of the top technical editors in her company. That is, until an unfortunate accident turns her life upside down, and she’s forced to give up the very independence she’s worked so hard to achieve.
Kindle: http://smarturl.it/TBL_REM_Kindle
Kobo: http://smarturl.it/TBL_REM_Kobo
iBooks: http://www.melissafoster.com/TBL_REM_iBooks
Google Play: http://www.me
Perhaps the Broken Sing the Loudest
My heart has broken over many things in life, not excluding the premise for how I injured my leg, which broke my heart in the sense that I came to doubt and question my competency as a blind person. But broken people and things can still love. They can still radiate beauty. They are there to remind us that they are just as whole as they once were, to remind us how very beautiful it is to heal, even if healing comes in ways we don't expect initially. It's what I was trying to convey when I took that picture of the dilapidated piano and guitar--even the broken have a song. But a year and a half later, I think I'd like to amend that statement to
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awesome read, thanks for sharing.