I’ve been trying to pay attention to my process this month. Clearly, at least so far, I am able to manage a daily writing practice. Why is it that I spend months and months telling myself otherwise?
Excerpts/teasers from my December poem-a-day!
I won’t pretend to understand the science, but Smithsonian Magazine says goldfish make alcohol to survive winter. Seems reasonable enough. I’m all about the spiked eggnog this time of year. But that’s not my only strategy for surviving winter.
Over time, I imagine, I strike some kind of strange balance, but it makes it really difficult to know who I am. I have trouble seeing the “both-and.” I have trouble seeing the multitudes contained as part of a cohesive whole.
It’s important to find happiness and satisfaction in poetry activities that do not revolve around notices of acceptance. Here are 7 ways to cope (thrive, even!) when you get stuck thinking in terms of success and failure. As a bonus, they make you both a better poet and a better literary citizen.
I’m after an experience. Not a recounting of an experience, but an exploration that just isn’t possible when I’m my clumsy mortal self stumbling around being an asshole (we’re all assholes), never having the right words.
When I find a phrase, an image or line that shows me something new, I believe in transformation — of the moment, of the object, of the self. And when I put them together into a finished poem, the whole world starts to make sense.