Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Crunch time. 12 days until my self-imposed book deadline.

Phew. 12 days.

I have a title. I have poems. The Acknowledgements are taking shape. This is coming together under my own fingers and I can feel a part of me refusing to believe it. But here it is, this collection of work I can hold in my hands...I can shuffle it around and tuck it in a binder or in my messenger bag and bike around town with it. It travels. It goes with me to work. It comes home with me. I take it to the coffee shop. I get coffee stains on the hard copy(it happens). I've paced circles around it and spread all the pieces out on the floor. I've caught the cat sleeping on it if left on the couch. It has quickly become a living, breathing thing. A beloved artifact. A creation. My Edward Scissorhands.

I am both in love and petrified.

But isn't this the truth for all things worth doing? Frightened, enamored. Haunting and bliss. Descriptions of opposites, internal tug-of-war that best friend splintered rope. I'd take it all again and again if it meant that page and grapple, if it meant forever telling it. I must love hell and romance. Cuz this is me, perhaps at my happiest.

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