Concrete and Clay

Yesterday was INCREDIBLY productive.


No, REALLY, yesterday was amazeballs. I’d planned to write poetry all next week, expecting a difficult, even painful slog through the prompt, and there’s four poems finished to my left, ready for polish and then early dispatch. This will undoubtedly leave me space to edit my WiP, to do chores and chase out new stuff to submit for, and will (hopefully) allow the means to start writing EX/WHI again because the whole thing’s plotted until completion, just needs the words.

One’s even a concrete poem. Never tried one and, amazingly, this literally wrote itself.


Once upon a time the plan was to take the weekends ‘off’ and not write, except this excludes the possibility that all your good ideas might happen on the days when you’re not expected to be an adult as often. As I wrote on the writing site earlier, having an idea of what needs to be done does not mean you are obliged to do that when stated. What the planning allows is my brain the opportunity to process in a more structured fashion. That’s the key. It’s why the idea of a residency is becoming increasingly more attractive.

It would be a place where I’d be given a totally distraction-free atmosphere to do exactly what I wanted.


There’s a proposal to finish and send off tonight for just that end: then in the week during the time that had been provisioned to do work already done, I’ll take a look at more places where I could be alone and just work.

That’s something I really do enjoy rather a lot.

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