Posted in Writing

The Lodger

A bird flew in my window one night
And took me by surprise
I assumed it must have lost its way
In its epic dance across the clear blue sky
With carefree leaps and dizzying climbs

My open portifice there
Must have seemed as adventure as any
And it stopped in to say hello

I found myself a bit at loss
To see such a queer little guest
For how does one entertain,
Such a tiny, lively thing?
Not with fine china and pressed linens, I presumed

So I found a bit of this and a bit of that
To warm the belly of such a patron
Who sang such lovely songs
Of near and far conquests
Over pink-hued lakes and the tops of golden spires

I listened till the hour was late
And my eyelids grew quite heavy
Then I drifted into shallow sleep
For I should not want to be deemed inhospitable
To this flighty little boarder of mine

When I woke my lodger was gone
To chase another dream, I suppose
A clean caller, my guest did not leave
As much as a feather’s wisp

I shall always remember that bird
And the night it came to stay
But I doubt very much
That it will ever remember me
As it continues its epic dance across the clear blue sky
With carefree leaps and dizzying climbs.

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Posted in Writing

Shiny

The shiny new package
Patiently waited to be opened
By the the girl
With the bright, twinkling eyes
And fancy bows and ribbons
Carefully arranged in her hair

Posted in Life, Writing

…Or Die Trying

So, my New Year’s Resolution was that this would be my best writing year yet…or something of the sort. I think I was rather exhausted after a drama-filled fall and didn’t put a lot of effort into creating a gleaming vision for 2018.

I used to believe in New Year’s Resolutions. There was a streak of about three or four years, that I made one┬ásolid resolution each year, and amazingly enough, I kept it, and came out better and stronger the next year. Then, I got cocky and started making too many, or making them too ambitious and the magic failed me, and my resolutions stopped working.

So, then I got discouraged and made my resolutions vague and half-hearted. Now, my only resolution this year was that I would try as hard as I could with my writing, with the afterthought that it would be my best writing year yet.

So far this year, my novel was rejected by yet another publisher, and the web company I was writing for folded and laid me off. It’s only February and already I’m off to a great a start on my best writing year yet.

As I scan the want ads for yet another writing job, I had this sinking feeling in my gut. What if I’m still doing this when I’m 50? Already my 20’s are gone in a flurry of college, temping and failed freelancing. What if this–blogging, writing novels that don’t sell, and chasing an endless chain of short-lived staff-writer jobs—is all my writing will ever be? i’ve sworn deep in my heart, that I will make it as a writer or die trying. What if that’s what happens? What if I die trying to make it as a writer?

There’s the cliche, “Find the joy in the journey.” I am enjoying the journey. But, what if the journey is all I’ll ever have? What if I never arrive? Will it have been worth it?

I guess every artist has to ask themselves that question. If I never “make it,” will it have all been worth it? I don’t have an answer. But, it’s an intriguing question.

…And I have to believe in my heart, that is this is that liberating crossroads, one must come to, right before that “big break.” Because I don’t think I could handle any other answer.