My bride and I went to An Evening with Margaret Atwood the other night, which began with her reading some of her poetry. After listening, I took away permission to ask more blatant questions in my own poetry. I’ve made an effort to steer away from that sort of thing overtly, but Atwood reminded me of one critical rule of creative writing: if it works then it works. Sometimes you don’t know if it does or not until you’ve done it. So, which type of calm do you pursue in your life?
Wait, Day 97? What happened to 96?
I missed it.
No excuse, I had an opportunity to do it during my break at work and I passed on. After that, when I got home I crashed. Hard. Been trying to do so much lately. Not the point.
I am proud that it took me 96 days before is missed a poem. New goal: try to go the rest of the year without missing another one. If I am to miss another, try to beat my 96 day streak.
Today’s poem is inspired by missing yesterday’s. I couldn’t tell you why Neverland and Peter Pan popped into my head, exactly, though in this context it certainly makes sense. Those stories are really depressing and downright frightening at their heart. Missed and stolen opportunities.
A piece of me mourns the loss of yesterday’s poem. It will never be written, never grow up, or go on adventures. It won’t even get to die because it was never born. Simply missed. An adventure not taken, an opportunity not explored. On the other hand, I am taking to heart why this is so valuable to me. The pursuit of dreams, seeing beauty realized and brought to fruition. Here is a rededication to never stop chasing the shine.
An unfortunate incident with my computer set me back by over a month and a half of work. It’s not just the accumulated backlog, but the new stuff I’m supposed to be pushing forward on as well. One of the poor projects fallen victim to circumstances is The Everyday Poet Podcast. Fortunately my cohost is amazing and hasn’t lit any of his enthusiasm for the project.
All that said, I’ve been thinking a lot about preventable mistakes. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but if I’d just done things a little bit differently, prepared just a bit better, adjusted my mindset…it’s never a good feeling when you find yourself mired in the state of “this could have been prevented if only…” which I found myself in today after driving in to work.
I had lunch with my sister today and got to glimpse a sliver of her life. She took me to a small restaurant hidden beneath downtown Houston that I never would have know was there. It got me thinking of the places, and memories, that we collect and how they define a piece of our existence and how eager, and terrified, we are to share them.
Another examination of visceral sensation accompanying an emotion. Inspired by my own anticipation–I had my first meeting with my new editor last night and am meeting a new acquaintance later today. I’ve never considered myself particularly good with people and meeting new people is always difficult for me. So, I’m throwing myself into it. Wish me luck!
Does anybody else ever wonder about your brain? What distinguishes us from it? When you get down to it, we are the sum of our memories which create our thoughts, electrical pulses zipping back and forth across this squiggly mass of grey matter. Are we the flesh housing or the energy coursing through it? Both? Neither?
More musings on creatives and the creative journey.
There is power in stories. Hypnotic power that can keep us turning the page long past when we should have stopped to go to bed. Power to transcend the senses and conjure powerful reactions, sometimes even physical reactions. This is what I hope to replicate with my work. For now, I simply wonder at it.
Today’s been a good day.
One of the first things I learned as a writer was to pay attention and describe the visceral sensations that accompany emotion. Today’s emotion: fear.
The Everyday Poet 