The review is a sketch. It delighted me, as I was already curious about inventive ways to respond to the books we read. I had written a nontraditional review to an essay collection a couple years back, but I had no idea what else was out there. With this blog post, I attempt to correct that.
As Olds said, I need to confide in a reader who is myself. When I fail to do this, I have nothing to share with the world. And I’m not talking only about poems.
I can relate to the standstill/stare-down Natasha describes in the opening of her post. When I go visit my manuscript, it doesn’t even welcome me. There’s no room for me in it anywhere. Not even space for me to park my car out front.
The old version of myself would’ve called the experiment a big failure. But now, I’m happy to thank that prior self for her service and back away from her slowly… LOL. What I’ve come to is a place solidly situated in self-care.
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.