I’ve been busy. With Anomaly Issue 3 slowly coming together (though there is a long way to go yet, and lots more to put in), actual bill-paying work and general life stuff, I’ve been writing quite a bit.
Pretty much whenever I find the spare time, really. Which is good, and clearly this year I’ve been productive so far. In four months I’ve written 23 poems. Not all of them wonderful, three or four pretty unusable but I never throw anything away. I have six poems coming out in five literary journals so far this year- and aiming for more.
As well as this, I’m starting to put together, tweak and arrange a poetry pamphlet, titled ‘Tapestry‘. It’s odd how, though each poem inhabits its own world, placed in the right order, they arrange a collective world unto themselves. I can see the voices of certain poems which I’m moving away from and the developing voice I’m currently writing under blooming in others. I’m not sure what to think of it. In fact, I get the general sense I’m a little dazed and addled on days when I spend the majority of it writing.
I go outside for a cigarette and feel like a prisoner suddenly released and set upon the world. Or the backyard. The woodpigeons don’t look enthralled to see me but maybe it’s just that the bench I like sitting on in the garden is too close to their giant Cherry Blossom for comfort. Who knows.
I go back and forth thinking the emerging pamphlet (God knows if it will even get seen by anyone) is decent, or just that it has some decent poems. I get to a point where I can’t tell.
I would give anything for the kind of money that meant I could take a month off and lock myself in a cabin and just write. I can dream.