Inspired by poet-professor Jehanne Dubrow's blog post "Someday Soon", I've decided to create a new list of my personal goals for the near future. I also did this last summer, but with pen and paper, and it really can be helpful:
* to plant (and not kill) the basil and rosemary seedlings I have waiting out back in their temporary containers.
* to write one poem a week even if it's crappy (although I'd rather it be wonderful and fulfilling).
* to get Chester Cat Press started with Emma.
* to find some suitable, non-plastic lawn furniture.
* to make some more pesto (hopefully, with the basil in my tiny herb garden), and pesto mayo. Mmmm...
* to make something tangible of my collaboration with my painter-friend Emily, maybe a handmade chapbook, poems and illustrations, bound with red linen thread. Hmmmm...
* to submit more poems to literary magazines.
* to get my grandmother's 1950s Smith-Corona manual typewriter fixed-up and unstuck so I can use it to type poems and other such things.
* to watch less television (which will be made abundantly easier once the analog signals officially shut off in a couple weeks).
* to have more tea parties with friends.
* to make.
02 May 2009
So says Neil Gaiman. And I agree with him, but he also clarifies that statement saying that we do in fact get stuck on occasion. It's not as serious a situation as the term "writer's block" suggests with it's clinical sounding name, kind of like "tennis elbow" or "library knee" (which is when the knees audibly crack every time one bends them due to years of book-shelving--so, I made that one up, but I definitely have it). The point is, that kind of hypochondria won't fly around here anymore. But I have been stuck in my writing for quite a few weeks now, which tends to be a bit depressing and frustrating. I think my problem right now is more a lack of focus. I have all this pent up creative energy, this great urge to write, but I am really struggling with the ability to focus this energy on a particular subject. I want to write, but I don't know what I want to write about and that doesn't really do much good. My hope is that, by essaying this out, maybe I'll find my focus. I feel that this always happens after I've finished a particularly long, but satisfying poetic project (like the Jack, Queen, King series I finished up more than a month ago now). (sigh)