Futures

The month of April is National Poetry Writing Month, NaPoWriMo to take the NaNoWriMo style of things, and I have in the past been very involved in it. I wanted to be this year as well, and had every intention of doing it, but this year so far I have been so busy most days that I haven’t wanted to do much of anything besides knit and/or crochet and listen to podcasts. I considered doing at least haiku each day, but I didn’t get started, and really, I don’t really want to start a full week in.

I do have the writing urge, though. I want to get back to it, when I have time. I don’t have as much time to myself though. I work 40 hours a week, and often stay up later and thus sleep in later than I probably should. I haven’t had much on my mind specifically to write about either, and I suppose that’s part of my problem too.

It’s already April. Three months into the year. Business is picking up at work, which is good, though I have strong doubts that it will stay this way. This seems the sort of business that runs in cycles. So I’m enjoying this cycle, and putting a little away for the next dip. Maybe when things slow down, I’ll feel a bit more like spending time writing. Or maybe when this baby blanket I’m making for my sister’s new baby due this month is done, I’ll spend more time writing instead of crocheting.

I received from my sister a lot of my mother’s writing, and from one of my aunts several of her letters from when she was in her junior or senior year in high school. I read over it a bit, and found that she had a voice of her own. She also had a tendency to write from her life. The poetry I read was rather interestingly close to some of my own, thematically. I was reminded just how much I am like her. Her novel (though it’s hardly enough to really be considered a novel) is typewritten, on real paper from that era, and part of me wants to just publish it as is. Even if I just have a copy made for myself, my siblings, and any of my relatives who want one.  I don’t want to change my mothers voice with my own. But I also am afraid that in order to be readable, it needs editing. I will have to go back to it when I feel able. I’m not yet.

I will get back to writing. It will happen. Writing is in me, but it’s just not something I can do halfway. I have to be able to put myself into it, and at the moment I can’t do that, so it will percolate. It may come out a bit here and there when I have more time to sit in my office and write instead of listening to the many podcasts I listen to and working on knitting/crocheting/spinning projects. I think it’s okay for it to percolate a while, though.

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