I started writing this at 3 a.m. Believe it or not, the not-sleeping thing is getting better (I slept five hours). So now I’m wide awake and feeling deliriously productive, like I have all the time in the world. Scary.
Today, my son goes off to first grade. *Sniff. Sniff.* Where does the time go?
I hate the end of summer. Feels like death to me. Goodbye warm weather, hello frozen white stuff. OK, maybe I’m being a bit dramatic. No, I don't think I am.
On Monday, I was in minor car accident. I’m OK. Everyone involved is OK. I’m hoping that bumper damage is the extent of the repair. Still, it sucks.
I’ve been reading a lot of blog posts about how poetry journals are struggling across the board. Many print publications are trying to figure out how to survive in the digital age. Some have gone online, while others cut staff and lower page counts.
Sadly, the list of publications I subscribe to is short. And I hate subscribing to journals I don’t have time to read. My list:
But two I will add this week: North American Review and Crab Creek Review. And I’d love to support a journal or magazine producing edgy work. Not necessarily experimental poetry or fiction, but one that takes a chance on design and content. Any suggestions? Just trying to do my part with limited funds.
The Dodge Poetry Festival is just around the corner. Are you in or are you out? (I’m in!)