The only person I have to blame for my failure to write is myself.
This could be my quote of the week as this week I've been my own worst enemy in the writing life. Instead of sticking to my schedule, I've been worrying about things that don't need to be worrying about, saving a dog from traffic then searching for its owner (okay, this had to be done), taking care of little things but not big things, wandering the house like a lost dustbunny.
My daughter went back to school last week, so the days are open for me to write. If I do not write, I cannot say "I didn't have time." What I can say is "I didn't focus" or "I didn't take it seriously enough." I can say, "I procrastinated," "I answered emails," "I read the news," but I cannot say that I honored or even appreciated my writer's time.
So today to break the habit of not producing I tried something new. When I returned home after my morning walk with Buddy Holly (my golden retriever, not the dead rock star) I entered the house, warmed up my morning cup of coffee, and grabbed some of my "to read" poetry books I keep on a small step stool in my office. I went to my red chaise in the living room(with a small bowl of Lucky Charms without milk) and read. What happened? I was inspired by another, in this case, poet Molly Tenenbaum who is Seattle poet and someone whose work I really admire.
I read and then I went to my writing space and wrote the first draft to a poem. I think for me, the goal is to read first then write before doing any left brain activities such as submitting or bills, but just giving priority to the moment to create before anything else.
I'll try it again tomorrow and see how it goes.
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