Whatever that means.
Sometimes the mood strikes me to write a poem. And sometimes I do, and it's awful, and sometimes I do, and it's "fair to middlin'" as my father would say, and sometimes it's just what I wanted. Sometimes I hit all those perfect authorial high notes -- lean, vivid, evocative, just the right combination of wit and punch.
I guess I have to realize that all my writing is like that -- that hitting "publish" on this blog is going to mean that I put a lot of things out there that I'm not satisfied with, that I go back and read months later and cringe at. I'm no "First-Draft" Lewis, and I never will be (alas?). And I realize that part of the discipline of being a writer is just continuing to hit "publish" week after week even when I don't have anything profound at the front of my mind. Because sometimes when I write a poem, it starts out as a sloppy ramble and ends up quite nicely summing up a thought filed away back in my brain. I reckon writing here won't be any different.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
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1 comment:
Actually, it was your father's father from whom you first heard "fair to middlin'."
Though you disclaim (and even declaim!), regarding your alleged inability to write lean, vivid, evocative first drafts with just the right amount of wit and punch, I have to admit that your first drafts are better than anything that I've ever written.
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