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Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Fine. I'll take his advice.

In which we succumb to our better angels. Or worse angels. Or some random angels.


No sane person would work for two days on a bad poem on a dirty refrigerator using only the limited lexicon of a magnet poetry kit. Obviously this person has her priorities all mixed up. But this misdirected person reads stuff like this about writing
Part one: Neglect everything else.
Part two: Get disciplined. Learn to rush to your laptop and open it up. Open the file without asking yourself if you’re in the mood, without thinking about anything else. Just open the file: and then you’re safe. Once the words are on the screen, that becomes your distraction.
So, as far as David Mitchell is concerned, she is on the right track, writing-wise, because it seems this pale frig poem is not the only thing that was written by her today. But some things are better contained in that laptop. Lucky for you.

I just like it

My face above the water / My feet can't touch the ground, / Touch the ground, and it feels like / I can see the sands on the horizon / Every time you are not around

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