Well, I have partly fixed the sludge problem I spoke of in the previous blog; I did not find a rock to sit on, but I did go to a favorite coffee shop and that helped. I also have gathered in a few poems that were in draft form in an old journal, and tried the past couple of days to compose at least a little poem. It does work, once I escape the demon Censor who keeps whispering sweet nothings about how much easier it would be to sweep the porch or do a load of laundry. Yeah, well, not! I came to the conclusion this morning that one thing that gets in my way is that word work. Writing can be play, should be, at least some of the time. So I went ahead and took extra time this morning to play with the images that had surfaced in my morning pages, and voila! A poem on the page. That felt good.
The other thing that has helped is forging through the To-do list with some persistence. I do overwhelm myself with tasks that often do nothing for my own writing. Clearing off some of that extra stuff helps me to breathe more deeply and think more effectively. So, today I may actually use this morning to work on submissions and queries. My fortune from lunch yesterday points out that not trying is a certain road to failure. So I'll persist. Gather up a handful of addresses for agents, explore my folder with fiction and poetry markets, walk the dog, finish the laundry, oops! There I go again. Life has to be more than dirty socks.