Confession Tuesday
Happy Tuesday, folks. Time to confess.
On day 12 of the PAD Challenge, I have written nine poems. Not sure if that's good or bad. The poems themselves are drafts, or should I say "drafts." These pieces need a lot of love, but when I take on these challenges, the crafting usually happens after.
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I confess these poetry challenges leaves little time for blogging. Will try to post a few times this week.
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Today I spent the morning writing at the Salem Athenaeum with the beautiful and talented J.D. Scrimgeour. Then, I went to the Peabody Essex Museum to view to prep for an upcoming visit with my first-year writing students. What a lovely way to start the day.
Tonight, I'm headed to the Grolier Poetry Book Shop to hear Don Share and George Elliott Clarke read their poetry. If you've never been to the Grolier, it's smaller as a postage stamp. Must get there early to grab a seat. I have visions of sitting outside on the stoop during the reading. *sigh*
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Today, when I cracked open a new journal, I felt resentment bubbling up. I did not want to let go of the previous one. My first Moleskin. This journal got me through a magical summer and an inspired fall. This morning a few snowflakes fell; I see that my apprehension is more than just a new journal or the changing of the season. It's about letting go. As much as I like letting go, I want some things to remain the same. Here's hoping the poems will flow for Moleskin #2.
Sounds silly, doesn't it? Writers are a superstitious bunch.
On day 12 of the PAD Challenge, I have written nine poems. Not sure if that's good or bad. The poems themselves are drafts, or should I say "drafts." These pieces need a lot of love, but when I take on these challenges, the crafting usually happens after.
****
I confess these poetry challenges leaves little time for blogging. Will try to post a few times this week.
****
Today I spent the morning writing at the Salem Athenaeum with the beautiful and talented J.D. Scrimgeour. Then, I went to the Peabody Essex Museum to view to prep for an upcoming visit with my first-year writing students. What a lovely way to start the day.
Tonight, I'm headed to the Grolier Poetry Book Shop to hear Don Share and George Elliott Clarke read their poetry. If you've never been to the Grolier, it's smaller as a postage stamp. Must get there early to grab a seat. I have visions of sitting outside on the stoop during the reading. *sigh*
****
Today, when I cracked open a new journal, I felt resentment bubbling up. I did not want to let go of the previous one. My first Moleskin. This journal got me through a magical summer and an inspired fall. This morning a few snowflakes fell; I see that my apprehension is more than just a new journal or the changing of the season. It's about letting go. As much as I like letting go, I want some things to remain the same. Here's hoping the poems will flow for Moleskin #2.
Sounds silly, doesn't it? Writers are a superstitious bunch.
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