A Writer's Notebook, Day Seven-Hundred-And-Seventy-Four

I have had a rather terrible day, and I do not want to get into it here, but I am feeling rather low.  For a bit, I had considered not doing any writing, but it was only a momentary thought, and even now I am debating writing a little bit more after this, although it is already almost three in the morning and I need to be up early.  I am feeling a great deal of stress, and I had some very upsetting interactions with some members of my family that have long term ramifications and which seemed to suggest that my concerns are irrelevant to them.  It is as if no one is able to see it from my perspective at all, and I feel very hurt by that, let alone that they are talking about taking actions that would really be upsetting to me and impact my daily life for years to come, in ways that I would find very difficult to deal with, and it feels intentional.  This is, of course, all on top of a lot of other stress about the world and the pandemic and the future, as well as the stress I feel about my work not being accepted anyplace (I have a hundred submissions that have gone out in a little over a year and the fifty one responses have all been rejections).  I am trying to remain hopeful, but I know I need to find a way to take real, meaningful action, and I know I am in need of real help.  I am also dreadfully afraid that I will not find it.  I do not know what to do.  I am sick of not knowing what to do, and now it is about so much more, about so many things in my life.  I had things that I was excited about, things that were good, and they all feel tainted.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poem: Neighborhood Inhabitants

Neighborhood Inhabitants There was a fox once, and another time, otters, and now a peacock that we think got lost during one of the storms. She stays down on the other end of the street, though, does not visit us. We have a racoon family that stays in our tree some nights, and there is a baby lizard, a brown basilisk, who we have seen several times. It is not supposed to be here, is invasive and troublesome to the local ecosystem, as are the duck.  I hear there are giant snails now who eat stucco or concrete or something of that sort. I have not seen one, though, I just heard they are here and big as my fist.
Read more

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Seventy-Three

I am still finding it difficult to get back to a more productive work schedule at the moment.  In part, I am sure it is that I gave myself permission to slack off a bit, and it is difficult to walk that back, especially because I am still writing and being productive, even if not to the same degree. I know it would be good to get back to doing more writing, but I also know that I am still meeting my core obligations, even if at a more minimal level.  Really, I just need to make the choice and force myself to stick to it.  To that end, I am planning to at least get back to work on my longer projects again tomorrow, even if I don't increase the poetry output right away.
Read more

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-One-Hundred-And-Thirty-Three

I received my acceptance to attend workshop at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival next year and am very excited to be working with Matthew Olzmann, a poet whose work I have admired for some time.  He has a rare capacity for being simultaneously absurd and serious in ways that are hysterical, but with devastating insights underneath.  I feel quite fortunate to have the PBPF, and can say, honestly, that each workshop I have attended there has been incredible.  As a person who has taken many workshops in my life, and who often finds them wanting, I am always astounded at the caliber of the classes at the festival, both in the instruction and in the community of poets I have encountered.  I only wish it could be more than just one week out of the year.
Read more