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

I just noticed that, somehow, I only added a poem last night and don't seem to have written a blog entry.  I suppose that it is bound to happen, and I can't pretend that it is a very big deal, really.  Rather, I don't want to think of it as a big deal.  I cannot change it at this point, and I am not really certain what happened.  I think that I did write something, but it is possible that I never uploaded it and it got lost, though I would expect it to have saved a draft, even if it was never posted.  I cannot say, and it seems a rather silly thing to worry about.  If nothing else, it at least gave me a little bit to write about for tonight, though, for once, I sort of had an idea before I started this entry, as I was having a good writing night in a way that has not happened in a bit.  I wrote one poem in particular that I feel good about.  It is not the poem itself, more the type of poem it represents and the way it reflects aspects of poetry I have written throughout my writing life but which I found less prevalent more recently.  It felt like I was reconnecting with an aspect of my own imagination and creativity that had been sitting aside for some time, and I am hopeful that there will be more similar work to come.

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