A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Hundred-And-Eighty-Five

I am recognizing that I am uncertain about the quality of a lot of the poems that I am working on lately, and I think that is probably a very good thing, if I am honest.  It means that I am stretching to do work that is uncertain, and thus has a certain danger to it.  As well, I think it is significant to become comfortable doing work without certain kinds of assurances or motivations.  In essence, I recognize that I am doing a job and cannot wait for the inspiration but need to actually do the work.  This does not downplay the work, in any sense.  I know that writing each day will never produce consistent work: some poems will always come out better than others.  What is more interesting, though, is that I think it likely I won't know which ones are which until later.  In part that will be about revision, of course, but, as well, I think it likely that I won't always know the difference in terms of the work that matters and that which doesn't.

In essence, I am learning a certain degree of trusting a process, and that is something that I feel quite good about.

Also, I set up an appointment for Monday with the specialist I discussed.  I think that I will be in very capable hands with her and am both excited and a bit scared.  Maybe, "scared" is too far, just a bit nervous.  I don't know entirely what to expect, really, but it should be positive, I think.

Anyhow, I am going to keep this short as I am still a bit down on energy from my new tobacco free lifestyle.  Honestly, I am glad to have quit cigarettes for this long, but I am feeling very wonky from the cravings and could run back to them at any minute, though I have no desire to.

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