Hello Steemians,
I am working on a couple of different writing projects. One is the screenplay for a potential television pilot. This is one of those big dreams. Most of the writers I know write screenplays, hoping they will get produced. While I put myself in that camp, I am also just someone who has to write them, and I will continue to write them even if I never win a contest or have anything produced. I have always been drawn to stories told on the screen: navigating the world of irony that involves visuals and deciding what is being said versus what the characters actually mean. Part of my spiritual growth is accepting that I need to make time for it.
My other project is intense revision on poems that I am getting ready to send out for potential publication. The process of getting a book of poems published by a reputable press goes something like this:
Photo of Mary Pickford, founder of United Artists, working at her desk. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
Throughout all of it, I've learned that it's important to enjoy the ride, enjoy the journey. There is a book called The Soul is Here for Its Own Joy by Robert Bly, and that's especially true for poets since there are dashed expectations and misconceptions to deal with. People think you write Hallmark cards rather than aspire to write literature. In addition, all poets -- at least in the U.S. -- cannot support themselves on poetry alone, so they teach. Or work as graphic designers. Or as marketing specialists. Or try to squeak by stringing a bunch of adjunct professor positions together.
So, anyone who does this, who attempts to write literature, does it for his or her own joy. They do it because they have to do it. As someone who has written every day since the fifth grade, I have difficulty explaining why I must do it. I can only say that reading and writing poems is one of my great joys, and it gives me immense pleasure to read the work of other poets as well as my own work out loud and puzzle over finding just the right word. I have been known to tinker with poems for two years before sending them out. After the initial draft -- that mad dash to fill the page -- the revision process allows me to figure out what I've actually said....
That is what is behind my own process. As I get to know more of the writers and poets here, I would love to know what motivates you and what your process is like. I love that there is a community here where we can all support and teach each other.
Without further ado, here is my short contribution for today. The process of writing this was more like sculpting. The poem was three times as long, and I chipped away at it until I got to what I feel is the true essence of experiencing insomnia. I hope you enjoy it. Since I am working towards publication, I welcome any and all feedback.
To illustrate this poem, I chose a photo from publicdomainpictures.net. Follow this link to view the original.
Sleepless Night
September and the Sweet Gum trees
begin to drop thorned globes.
The air turns cold, and insects
lose momentum. All night
Orion has chased Pleiades through clouds.
By first light, even his passion wanes.
The restless sky descends, sniffs
at creek beds and gravel roads.
If I rise and walk to the ridge,
whom will I meet beyond the fog?
