Writing Is Writing Is Writing

I shall be frank. It has been a tough summer. Nearly all the work I projected did not manifest. Budget travesties in the current climate of education and in the face of a horrid economy have meant that, once again, the rug has been pulled out from under me. I am running on fumes and prayers to get through while work is very slowly presenting itself over the next few months. The career of an independent teacher educator is not for the faint of heart.

In the face of all of this, I facilitated other poets/writers throughout the summer, both in the two workshops I taught and in the work I do as managing editor of the Comstock Review. I also wrote a great deal, although not much poetry. But I have been journaling quite regularly and extensively, keeping my gratitude journal nearly daily, and working on my accomplishment journal. I have committed seriously to this blog as well. I have posted twice as much this year thus far as either of the two previous since I started this journey in cyberspace. My readership has grown and I hope I have be of service in sharing my experiences and reflections. 

I am quite accustomed to the quiet times when my poems hibernate. I have been enjoying the freedom of prose with the counterbalance that blogland boundaries create. I am examining the world through a different lens when I write for this page; however, I am actively writing, consistently reaching out, communicating with the world, expressing my joys, frustrations, and sometimes even righteous indignation.

In 5 weeks, I will turn 58. It is crazy and a bit terrifying. I am feeling a remarkable urgency to get the words in my head and heart onto the page and before people to whom they carry meaning and message. I hope that the muses take me back to verse soon but until then, I have my keyboard and my three journals to help me fulfill my destiny and purpose as writer. I sincerely hope I have plenty of time to exhaust the language I carry with me, to make some sort of difference.