Expectations and Gratitude
Thanks to Meredith for taking the kids to daycare today and providing me with a day to write, read, and be.
She's always got her hand's full, but she's managed to handle all the rough patches with grace and dignity.
As for the expectations, I've realized something about this current prose poem manuscript that I'm penning--I think I have the expectation that I'll be able to write my way out of it, but I'm starting to realize that I'm just as lost as my protagonist.
Usually the way I manage to end writing projects is when I decide to sit down and create a form for a manuscript, and usually that form rises out of a necessary understanding of the relationships between poems.
This project feels like a novella and not a poetry manuscript. This is okay with me, but I have an innate sense of perfectionism that wants it to be tidy. So what I clearly expect from the writing is for it to reveal its answers and tell me what is going to happen and what it is.
That probably ain't going to happen.
I listened to a story yesterday about a minotaur called "Ziggaurat." It's by Stephen O'Connor. In many ways, that story showed me ways out of my own labyrinth. Credit where credit is due.
Wrote a quick blog posting about my Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival Experience. It should be up on Friday. When it is, I'll post the link.