Right now, I'm writing the first draft of a short story titled "Blade" at this time. Since it's a first draft, I'm just moving along at a steady pace . . . trying to relax, breathe, write, and enjoy. My strategy is working pretty well, and I'm progressing at a steady if not spectacular pace: 5,187 words so far.
I'm writing for other projects, too--this blog and another, a little of this and that.
I'm also focusing on my overall state of being, my level of rest and exercise, my diet and relationships. Writing has not been my engine for personal growth for a long time. It has more been a means to express my state of being, what I see and hear. I think that's healthy, avoiding the starving, suffering poet experience. I believe Philip Lamantia, a San Francisco Beat poet, described that pursuit akin to beating on the portals of perception until the hands are bloody. I've done a bit of that but prefer less blood and more joy.
Maybe I'll miss writing my great masterpiece because of that--but, really, I think I'm the masterpiece that's being written. It goes round and round, like the snake eating its tail.
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