Sometimes when I get to the office in the morning my mind is not ready to spill anything out on the white page on my computer. I go through the meanderings of doing in the morning and listen to the office wake up. Ultimately, someone, a client or Patti will come in and give me something to grasp firmly and let my brain charge into the fray. But until then, I am on hold.
In these days, it is rare for something to grasp the creative side of my brain right off the bat. The unfortunate thing is that sometimes my brain will be caught by something at a time when I don't have access to paper and pen or to a computer. Those are the times when I usually lose the line or the image and my feeble brain loses the opportunity to set it down.
This is the trouble with being a side/poet. If I had plenty of grants and other assorted sources of money to enable me to hang around the house and think about poetic things all day, I could really crank them out. And I would always be ready to handle the vagaries of inspiration when they hit. But being a side/poet, these things come and go and I am fortunate sometimes to just be waiting with my catcher's mitt when they hit (like the rhyme?).
But no grants, no sources of money, other than the dribbling of clients in Griffin, Georgia. So, I am sitting here writing in streams of consciousness, waiting for something really good to hit. Something that I can be proud of, when it hits.
There apparently are more side/poets out there than you might think. I found out that Steve Galloway's father was a side/poet. They published his poetry when he passed away. I have heard that Tim Cramer is a side/poet.
Oh well, I need to think about going home and taking Cindy to the doctor in Atlanta. She is very nervous.
Monday, January 21, 2008
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