Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Waiting for the Interurban Sculpture Plus Spongebob
* * *
It's Tuesday again and since I've been focusing on refocusing my writing life and getting back into the creative world again, so I thought I'd focus this Confession Tuesday on creativing, writing, and the artistic life...
I confess yesterday I showed a friend my writing shed and felt thankful that I built it (though still wish it had a better name than "the writing shed").
I confess I let my CRWROPPS (Creative Writing Opportunities)email box get filled past 400. I've done a terrible job of submitting and being aware what is out there. I am much better at being a writer than submitting my work. I enjoy writing, I dislike submitting.
I confess Manic Time is helping me. Today I had to tag an hour of my time as "browsing, time wasting." I mark that color in red so I can't ignore it.
I confess if I see a book contest and the last group of winners and finalists were mostly men, I don't enter that contest because it makes me feel the judges have a bias towards a male-voice manuscript and since my manuscript is pretty much the opposite of that, I decide to save my money.
I confess it sometimes concerns me that I make judgments of who will like my manuscript and who won't, but I do try to trust my intuition on such things and not what my mind says.
I confess I still love it when I sit down to write expecting nothing to come from the moment, but then a poem comes about. It's the natural high that keeps me returning to the page.
I confess I love to be around creative people, especially visual artists, because they always make me feel more normal and make me live a more authentic and creative life myself.
I confess I get concerned when I see creative people focusing on what I think are the wrong things or doing cheesy stuff that makes them feel more like a used-car salesman than an artist. My biggest fear is that someone will see me this way or I will unintentionally become this and not someone who is trying to live her life as a artist, but as someone who has lost her way from art, literature, and creative pursuits and into a world of beer hats with straws or Precious Moments collectibles.
I confess I hope if I ever end up this way, I will know it and not have to find out by finding myself dressed in a whimsical scarf and poet-pin in the Walmart portrait studio or showing up to a writing event with a self-made nametag marked "Important Author."
I confess, I hope I never take myself too seriously when it comes to being a writer.
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