My perspective of approach to the writing routine has drastically changed since then as well. These days, there are no “all-nighters.” I can’t afford to push myself like I’m training for the Olympics. “Slow and steady wins the race.” But I’m not racing anyway, am I.
Like knitting a ten-foot scarf through nightly goals of only seven lines each – Why? Because seven lines were a guaranteed accomplishment. Dread-free.
Nothing I attempted today was a painful stretch to complete. Before I even began, I made peace with myself: I’d begin and attempt. If I found my heart wasn’t in the task, I gave myself permission to invest my effort elsewhere. What I discovered was, the “begin and attempt” were the hardest parts. With low expectations of what the “begin and attempt” might produce, I was comfortable and confident enough to just keep going. It really felt like magic.
critique: 1 peer work
read: various dog poems
- Dog, Weldon Kees
I am no growling cicerone or Cerberus
But wreckage for the pound, snuffling in shame
All cold-nosed toward identity. –Rex? Ginger? No.
- Walking with Jackie, Sitting with a Dog, Gary Soto
We find a dog, hungry and sad as a suitcase kicked open
And showing nothing.
- The Dog Stoltz, August Kleinzahler
- February, Margaret Atwood (cat poem)
warm-up:
- 1 letter, 2 min.
- 2 min. association
- prompt: “On the other side of that door…”
write: first-draft poem, The Proposal (126 words)
revise: The Proposal (v. 1-3)
Total time = 6 hours
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