I have had a terrible case of writer's block. Funny, I feel self-conscious even calling it that, it seems self-aggrandizing to call myself a writer.
Anyway, I am trying to merge onto the Recovery Highway. So, at the urging of my life coach, Brady Mikusko, I bought The Artist's Way, and have begun her suggested method of three Morning Pages each day. I started yesterday. My blinker's on, and I am accelerating.
Yesterday, in the pool where we live--that is the pool in the apartment complex, not that we live in the pool, though Ben wishes we did--I met Van Baldwin, a poet and organizer of the Crossroads Poets and Writers conference in Ann Arbor, longtime local literati. We had a nice chat, and he offered to hook me up with some groups and reading spaces.
Almost makes you believe in this recovery stuff. Pretty strong evidence when the traffic moves over and lets you slide back on so effortlessly.
And, I've been catching up on some of my favorite blogs: Ben and Bennie (hilarious lately), Cloudscome (always resonates and great stuff about kid's books) and Bloomingwriter (whose gardens bloom along with her words.) The Curmudgeon scooped NPR by three whole days on the story about stolen hours of work. Good to know you all have kept holding up the sky in my long absence. (Their links are all at the right, I still haven't figured out how to put a link in the text of an entry. Hopeless, I know. Not a writer, not a Blogger, either.)
Writing: odd stuff,
I say I can't breathe
my fingers and toes
are completely blue.
Still, hard to sit down
and do it,
to write it down.