I use everything in my writing, like a depression era cook. Nothing goes to waste. While juicy bits might be served immediately, scraps and fat are not tossed out, but flung into the pot on a slow simmer. Bones and beaks will be cycled back in someday, just wait and see. Feathers float around the stove whispering poems as I stir the plot. Little feet line up on the windowsill awaiting their turn as I sweep broken shells into a corner. Oh, I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done. You’re just lucky my weapon is a pen and not a gun.
The Daily Prompt: Simmer
No, it is not a table piled high with books of pomes. Guess again. Nope, it is not a tabletop laminated with a collage of pomes snippled from the New Yorker, though that is a neat idea, now that I’ve mentioned it.
I’m talking about a table in Word, like my cupcake table. You do remember my cupcake table, don’t you? I still have it! And I can prove it… don’t test me. Anyway, I was doing tables at work last week to organize a project, as you do, and the idea began to form that hey I could organize my pomes like this. The problem I’ve been having with my latest poetry project is that the book is in four sections and I keep rearranging them instead of writing anything new.
Obviously I can’t write new things until the old things are in their proper place. I was mired in an OCD loop of cutting and pasting and flooping things here and there, but it’s hard to keep the entire concept straight in my head when some of the ideas are still only one line and not fleshed out, as it were. Listing the titles of the pomes in the various table sections, and rearranging them there, made so much more sense. Once I’m happy with that, then I fix the actual document. Now I see everything at a glance in the table instead of scrolling through the doc yet again (trying to keep it all in my head without stopping to revise) ~ not only the titles, but also how manu pomes are still unwritten in each section. I’ve already made so much progress in the last several days and feel very poetically productive.
Obviously this table is only for me and won’t appear in the book, which will have an index, since I’ve noticed that newly published Real Poetry Books have indexes, not TOCs, for some reason. This must be why my otter books did not fly off the e-shelves. LOLZ, I make funny.
Yay table! Yay organization! Well, I know at least one person who will appreciate this poast. 🙂
Choice is good; too much choice leaves me paralyzed. Not talking about dating again, though I could be, but that’s too boring. I’m talking about social media generally ~ there is simply too damn much of it now. When we had only Usenet (BITGOD), supplemented by our frantic, gossipy, occasionally flirtatious backchanneling emails, that already took up way too much free time, especially for those of us trying to do Serious Writing. Gawd forbid if we had Real Jobs too, yipes.
Then came, what, some other drippy sites, then blergging, then faceblop, which isn’t just one thing now, but has spawned into a devilmass of special groups to soak up every fucking minute of the day. Yes, you can turn off all those notifications, and I have. Also, there’s twatter and instapeep and group chats on messenger… and this doesn’t even touch actual news sites and e-magazines we might want to read and a constant flow of shows to watch via Prime or ‘Flix or whatever thing plus books on Kindle all piled up and regular books too and it’s all driving me insane. Good for you if you have a handle on all this shit. Yay you.
I’m paralyzed by this. I feel if I neglect Facebook and chats, then friendships will fade, especially with people I don’t see in meatspace. If I give up Twitter, then I won’t have a “presence” to promote the books I never write anyway. Instagram is no big deal to spend less or no time on, but it takes up the least time in the first place, so that doesn’t help much. I already don’t read as much as I’d like to, for a writer. I don’t actually watch many movies at home and no TV shows now that Game of Thrones is done for a while. I’ve been writing nothing this summer, nothing at all.
Summer’s almost over and I’m really bummed about my lack of progress. I have a few new poems this year, that’s it. No inspiration for a new novel and only a few more ideas for poems. BITGOD I used to feel I had plenty of time to myself, plenty of time to write, even time to exercise after work, and I have that same amount of time now… I just have to stop letting the internet steal it. September is always a good time for me to make a fresh start. Perpetual student here.
PS: Don’t bother looking up BITGOD since I just invented it. Use your noodle. 🙂
I’m an alley cat
I play on the edge
Unless you want claw marks
Down the back of your soul
Heart closed for repairs
He came to me palms open
Offering pearls and doves
But his heart stayed closed
The stars winked out
When he said goodbye
And blackness crawled
Across my mind
Don’t turn on the light
Synching old texts
Brings me back to a past
Of dark days
And darker nights
The Daily Prompt: Synchronize
Posted in Poetry
You’re my trigger
I’m your gun
Aim for the heart
My chambers spin
In lush delirium
Drizzle your poison
Dose me slowly
Milk of amnesia
Soften my edges
Numb my pain
The room grows dark
Days ruled by shadows
Frost crusted on the glass
All is stone and ash
My first winter without you
Swept under the wave
Drowning in madness
I breathe your name
Into drops of starfire
A stranger’s kiss
Revives my heart
I buried it
In a shallow grave
The Daily Prompt: Shallow
Posted in Poetry
Some of you are probably going huh, wut, November? It’s the middle of the summer!
But a few of you will know exactly what I’m talking about.
November is coming.
And I’ve spent couple years faffing about writing poetry, NTTAWWT. Poetry is nice and all. Sometimes you just need to write poetry for a while… well, I do anyway. But then you get tired of creating adorable appetizers and delectable desserts and you want to make the main course again… you need to tell a story.
At some point in the near future, I’ll be organizing the poetry I wrote over the past few years, together with some relevant material from the distant past, into a new themed e-book available for purchase. I may also have one or more of my works narrated into an audio book and see how that goes. Dunno if I’ll do that with a poetry book or one of the romance novels; need to look into the whole dealio first, but it seems like a neat idea.
Aside from all that, however, the story drum is beginning to beat, faintly now, but slowly and steadily growing louder. Tell a story, beginning to end. So, savor my whimsical poasts and musings on social media for the moment. Soon it’ll be time to get serious again.
November is coming.
The Daily Prompt: Savor
A wolf sleeps in the raven’s circle,
Her path a razor through the night;
The moon is dark, my love eternal,
Restless, searching, never gentle,
Slicing swiftly out of sight.
A wolf wakes in the raven’s circle
As she arcs around an empty temple,
Cloaked in mists of dead starlight–
The moon is dark, my love eternal.
His gaze will track her shadowed vigil;
With eyes aglow like smoked graphite,
A wolf prowls in the raven’s circle;
Magnetic scent pulls down her spiral,
Wings thrumming in their ceaseless rite.
The moon is dark, my love eternal:
Bound to Earth by lines primeval,
Course predestined, fated flight.
A wolf waits in the raven’s circle,
And the moon is dark… my love… eternal.
The Daily Prompt: Magnet
Dark Moon villanelle published in WAXING & WANING Issue 7, Spring 2001
Posted in Poetry
We circled each other
Like emotional porcupines,
Wary and scarred,
Alert and on guard.
Then I shed my quills,
Dipped them in ink,
And started to write
A story of our life.
Caught up in the moment,
I forgot I had created
Of my newly bared heart.
The Daily Prompt: Quill
Posted in Poetry
It’s after 9pm and I’ve accomplished nothing tonight.
Well, that’s not precisely true. I spent time calling and emailing peeps in attempts to fix mistakes and figure out confuzzling stuff. But there’s so much more. I feel completely stressed out by all the things. I haven’t written any poetry lately, though I’ve scribbled down ideas when I’ve thought of them. That’s not the same though, a couple words here and there. You lose the mood, the feeling, the gestalt of the piece.
I didn’t do much over the long weekend because I didn’t feel well. But that’s not really true either. I cleaned a bunch, hung out with friends, watched fireworks, crossed a lot of items off my list. I keep adding stuff to the list though! I’ve been reading a good book (Ted Chiang’s Stories of Your Life), but I wasted some hours watching bad movies too. 😦
It seems as though all these electronic time-savers just gobble up more and more time. I long for the days of the checkbook and pencil ~ I am officially old now. So many of my hours are eaten up by “helpful” technology, a sparkly illusion of convenience. No, I’m not giving any of it up or asking for advice; I’m just complaining, right here on my laptop connected to the internet. It’s what I do.
I have a million tabs open up there… mostly poetry sites I want to check out, maybe to submit stuff, or to get ideas, or whatever. They’ve been open for days, maybe a week. But I’m not looking at them tonight ~ I’m too tired now. W10 wants to update again, but I can’t let it cuz I’d have to close the tabs. These tabs, and the whole North Korea problem… it’s all making me very anxious.
Happy belated 4th (USA readers), day late, dollar short.
The Daily Prompt: Illusion
One of my father’s faves… he would have liked this.
Happy Dad’s Day!