Tuesday, Feb. 4
I can’t believe it’s already been 22 days! Talk about (write about) feeling like a total F-word. You know…FAILURE. <Slumping shoulders and making pathetic sad face>
I could really use a hug right now. And another cup of coffee. And more time than what my one year old daughter’s nap allows for me to work on my writing.
I have been working on my poetry revisions, but have totally lost sight of submissions, and it’s likely that deadlines have already passed, although surely new ones will appear so all hope is not lost. But my mojo is like, well, gone.
It started with trying to revise a couple funky poems, and I let that get to me, and even after deciding to avoid the drama of revising such poems, I’ve found it difficult to carry on and move ahead. And I don’t think that I tried to take on too much, I just think it was not the right time to take on so much. And funkiness is an ever-present thing that seems to hover around me like an aura, and so I will have to figure out ways to move forward even while suffering from the funks.
And cue the baby to wake up. Yep. That is how much “free” time I have. (Mental note: when I’m waist deep in baby fever, remember this moment. Yes, the moment when you just want to have a few minutes to yourself, to do something that matters to no one else but you, to do something you feel you were meant to do, if only you could focus and put in the hours. Remember this.)