where the writers are
Erratic Muse

I tweaked and messed around with my poem, Dream House, for twenty years before submitting it for publication last year.  It was rejected twice and accepted on the third go round by Grey Sparrow Press.  I submitted my poem, Jellyfish Dance, the day I wrote it in January. It was also accepted by Grey Sparrow Press.  The third poem, Stretched, was four years old, went through two revisions and was rejected by one market before Grey Sparrow. All were published by the same market, yet their start to finish times ranged from one day to twenty years.
Some weeks I crank out three blogs, other weeks I can barely manage one.  No one can accuse me of clogging up the blogosphere. Yesterday I wrote a 650 word article. It took me five hours. Am I slow or picky or what?

(Hang on; the dryer buzzer is interfering with my concentration. Be right back.)

I should never do laundry when I'm writing but I haven't got the courage to be a disheveled writer.
(And the damn phone is ringing again. I know I should ignore it, but what if it’s another emergency?) My attempts to be a reclusive author have failed.
I don’t understand why some days are like the day Jellyfish Dance worked itself around in my brain for an hour or so before it flowed onto the page with grace, and other days an idea brews in my head for years before the sentences go onto the page like algebraic equations I have to balance out and proof for errors.
(Gotta go. My daughter and granddaughter are here to visit for the day.)

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Seriously, you don't understand? I'm laughing, and I'm looking at my autographed copy of Grey Sparrow right now. I'm glad the poems rattled around inside your head for as long as it took for them to find all their words and then flow out. By the way, I'm not clogging up the blogosphere either. It takes a monumental effort of concentrated perseverance to write and edit that consistently; kind of like a real job!


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How Well


Writing does get easier with practice, like any creative endeavor, but the creative spark seems to fuel itself at times and peter out at others despite my best efforts to keep it going.

If we didn't care about the quality of our blogs, we could whip 'em out in a few minutes. It might not seem like a job but would anybody want to read them?

Glad to know you got your autographed copy of Grey Sparrow. (That makes me sound much more important than I am.)


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Disheveled Writers

I love that line "I haven't got the courage to be a disheveled writer". Thanks for sharing your experience of the variance in publishing endeavours. Perhaps caring about quality is what differentiates 'writers' from 'bloggers'? Whenever I wonder about the ebb and flow of the creative spark, I remind myself that writing is a bit like playing golf. You have to play regularly to hone those skills, especially your 'touch' around the green. And yet, sometimes when I haven't played for a while I can still pull out a brilliant shot. Some days you will be in a 'purple patch', some days you just keep finding the trees and can't get out of the bunkers. Cheers, Cindy

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Golf and Writing


Writing and golf: a perfect simile. Your description is wonderful and although I don't golf, I understand it to be quite frustrating most of the time. Yet, both can be deliciously fulfilling and almost perfect once in a blue moon.

Thank you for reading and taking the time to reply.