Even though I have more free time in the summer and generally more energy and longer days and more serene swims and inspiring breezes as I weed or trim and the patterns to be observed of sun and shade and more attention to the contrasts of the wonderful blue of the sky and the clouds, I still have trouble writing as much as I want.
1. I always start out by counting all the weeks--a bountiful number
2. and thinking about the "housecleaning" of writing to be done (sending out, sending out, sending out
3. [and finding/deciding what places to send to]).
4. I always long for an extended idea--a series or sequence to work on--which I think I have this summer.
5. I make an enormous list of any possible idea of merit.
6. And then something gets in the way.
This summer I screwed up my knee for a few weeks (much better now) and I'm also feeling the heat and there's the herculean task of cleaning for house guests and in half of the back of my head some thinking about what I'll be doing in the fall. I also have to deduct out any planned vacation time. So I'm down to six weeks in July and August (after July 16th).
But yesterday I started to stick some bits and pieces together that might be a new poem (involving "cupcake") and I just now thought (as I disassembled part of the vacuum cleaner) that maybe I could try a NAPOWRIWE--a week where each day I write a new poem. I like it!
Inspiration from a disassembled vacuuum--only you, dear Susan!
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