A new blog post two weeks in a row! This is turning into a regular Wednesday thing. Plus, I've added a subscribe button (you can thank @DavyKent) if you want an email notification for new posts.
https://t.co/69pc4SyB4K
I'm taking a break from having a job in 2021. Those hours will more regularly go to writing. It's a scary thing to say yes to this kind of opportunity. My messy thoughts are here: https://t.co/6FC6phDKla
My favorite part of writing a poem is looping a word through different senses. When self-editing, I check back through the lines to see if I lost any threads.
When do you use a synonym for variety and when do you sustain repetition?
Do you ever come up with a phrase you enjoy so much that you want to use it on every other line in a poem? But then, your better judgment reminds you that it's more of a recurring bit character than part of the core cast.
Yesterday, I intended to write something joyful. It didn't quite work out. Sometimes I am amused by juxtaposing deep delighted attention with the language of ennui and existential angst.
Oh, right! I'm having trouble writing because it's summer and this is usually not my writing season.
Also, global fucking pandemic, near-constant presence of children, and a host of other life stressors.
Be kind to yourselves, loves. You've likely forgotten how much you bear.
I've been clumping words together to sculpt poem friends for a series of flower pictures that I fell in love with. It's both outlet and focus for my weirdening quarantine brain.
If friendship is learning the needs and rhythms of another being, looking to understand their abundance, attending the shape of their shadows, and never asking them to shift their purpose, then yes, I am friends with my apple trees.
Compelling narrative, hit all the right emotions with the intensity I needed, wrapped up sweetly.
In my mind, the Williams' house was my aunt and uncle's farmhouse.
Thanks for putting this in the world, @readjaclyndawn @NeWestPress @lavermeer 💖
I grew up in a small town (pop. 1000), left to go to university, and can't imagine ever going back. "The Inquirer" by @readjaclyndawn is hilariously familiar & a bit too relatable (but delightfully so). I wish I could read it in a single sitting! (Darn kids)
#PrairieVixenReads
I grew up in a small town (pop. 1000), left to go to university, and can't imagine ever going back. "The Inquirer" by @readjaclyndawn is hilariously familiar & a bit too relatable (but delightfully so). I wish I could read it in a single sitting! (Darn kids)
#PrairieVixenReads
Spent a good chunk of today trying to name the poets who influenced my writing. I came up with Shel Silverstein, Dr. Seuss, and Michael Ondaatje (who was a late addition).
My spouse said, "But you listened to music. How is Leonard Cohen's music different from his poetry?"
My spouse is not my muse. He's my sounding board and my tether to reality.
He has this habit of helping my train of thought chug along and switch tracks when I need it.