Wednesday, November 6, 2013

IWSG Day


Howdy, Insecure Writers! Thanks for showing me the way, Candi! And thanks to the amazing Alex J. Cavanaugh for hosting this awesome group, over three hundred strong! Visit as many as you can!Yes, it's time for another group posting of the Insecure Writer’s Support Group!

The co-hosts today are CD Coffelt, Tina Downey, Isis Rushdan, and Michelle Wallace! Please be sure to thank them for their time and effort to make all IWSG members feel welcome.

Another month,
oh, insecure ones!

Yes, the dream is achieved!

I sold a novel!
PLUMB CRAZY!

Now my life is all rainbows.
I don't have to clean house no more.
Grocery shopping is off the to-do list
My day job, pffff.
My volunteer gig, a snap.
The mini-van brakes were fixed miraculously.
The cat boxes magically emptied.
The garage organized itself.
All my relationships are suddenly awesome.
Dust retreated from all surfaces.
Laundry jumped into the washing machine.
The Chrismas party invites wrote themselves.
I am faster, better, stronger...
And that's so good,
because I have new book to market,
I have another one to write.
I'm speaking at a school, a conference,
this week.
I have to stuff to do.
And look I have all this time...

Laughing my head off.

I usually do all my upbeat
positive blogging
over at Seize the day.
This is my backyard,
you know, you can't see it
from the street,
and in keeping with
the spirit of the Yellow Submarine,
I write everything here in broken prose,
because, yes, that's how
many of us feel.

Thanks for dropping by!
In the words of the great poet,
Sir Paul McCartney,
"We all live in a yellow submarine."

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Question Poem

I've been writing scraps of poetry since I was a teenager. I have stacks and stacks.  I like to ask hard questions. I like that they don't have answers. Like the great poet Bob Dylan said, "The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind."

Here's one:

The late night steals up
My mind races here,
Reaches there.

If I were the author
I would not write
My world this way.

Am I a twig
pulled by rushing water?
Have I no choice?