Like that one guy said: Good writers borrow, great writers steal. Welcome to the place where all things have been lifted, looted, and otherwise pilfered…Remember, possession is 9/10s of the law.
Panickingly slow is how it’s going. I don’t know if panickingly is a real word but I’m using poetic license.
So far: 6 poems that are actually in a full rough draft form. About 7 where I have a line or more.
November sucks for doing any of these kinds of things. Especially this November for some reason. I realized that I work seven days straight right before Thanksgiving–one of those being a holiday meeting in which I have to work about 12 hours.
I do a lot of my writing on Thursdays because I don’t have to work until later and the kids are both in school. However, today (Thursday) Owen has a play so I switched my hours to work earlier–and I won’t be able to really write tonight because, well, Owen has a play. Then Thanksgiving is on a Thursday, so there goes another one.
And who the hell can think up 120 different subjects for poems? I’m hitting a wall. (I’m trying to stay positive, and think about all those great times when you push yourself and get the really creative ideas…but the positivity isn’t sticking.)