The Slow Cold Grind

I was awake early this morning, but waited until 6:30 to begin writing. Two really old pieces have been revised, a new piece polished and added, one poem originally thought right for the collection has been tossed, and the forty-three page manuscript (seven pages short) sent off to a friend for perusal.

My goal last week was to revise an old piece of writing and create one new each day. I didn’t quite pull that off, as the page count proves. The original idea for this collection, way back in late 2011, included photographs I’d taken over the preceding decade. But that won’t work for my revised vision. I find myself doubting that vision right now.

Chronology is important to me… that hasn’t changed. I want readers to be able to follow a clear progression of time and it’s troublesome now that I’ve realized that may be impossible. Can I let that go? Should I?

It’s been sleeting here since midnight last night, steadily. Here’s to hoping the power holds. I’ve tried writing by candlelight—nothing inspirational about it.

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