How the hell did it get to be August? That's what I want to know. Over half the year has gone by and I feel farther away from my New Year goals than ever. True, I have accomplished some things - I got this site up and became more active in Poetry Virginia, focused on poetry and put together a collection from the past couple years. In doing so, I've steered away from my fiction, which packed his pillowcase, ran away in a bluff, but got kidnapped on the corner. I'm waiting with sweaty palms and a tight gut to see if he'll ever come back.
Meanwhile, I try to decide - do I submit individual poems to lit mags, send collection to small presses, or bite the well-bitten bullet and self publish? Do I put poetry aside to track down my errant fiction (whom I miss dreadfully) or focus even more intensely on poetry to oil out the creaks?
I'm just not sure. And, time is a sassy bitch - I want to tie down and bend to my literary desires. But, she is having none of that.