Sleeping Pill Night

A bit of a Stone:


Sleeping pill night
makes for a late 
but enjoyable 
morning light.

Inspirational Creative Advice

While this blog is primarily my personal writing, there is also listed "stuff." Presently, the stuff listed is "professional," yet, when beginning this blog I'd originally promised also writerly stuff, so I'm happy to finally offer just that. 

In “WritingInspiration,” I mentioned a few blogs that have succeeded in making my fingers itch to write again, and I added them to my blogroll: Jeff Goins and The WritePractice. I hope you take a moment, as a favor to your writer-self, to visit their sites.

Today, The Write Practice posted a piece from Pick The Brain, written by a Corey Allen. The Write Practice titled it “Stop Being So Busy.” Today was the perfect day to read it although, unfortunately, I didn’t heed it very well. It is exactly my struggle of late.

Stop being so busy.

Busy is the enemy of Art.

Busy is the avoid­ance of Pain, and Pain is the only way to grow.

Art comes from Pain.

Busy kills productivity.

You will never be happy when you are Busy. But you will never be sad either.

Busy, like all drugs, can become an escape. It will always end in failure.

Be where your butt is, where your feet are. Be with your fin­gers and in the lin­ing of your Lungs: Going in. Going out. Your shoul­ders relax­ing into the world.

  

This entire list is painstakingly true. Yet, how many of us continue down the same path? I know I am 100% guilty.

My plan for this Sunday was to do nothing laborious except to clean the chicken coop, sweep and mop the house, then work on blog posts, and two chapbook manuscripts to submit.

“Busy, like drugs, can become an escape.”

I fed the chickens and instead of sticking to the plan, instead of cleaning the coop, I decided to rebuild and mount the feeder. When the screw gun failed to drive the screws, I tried the hammer, then I tried to drill the holes first (but the screw gun wouldn’t drive the drill either), and then I tried nails before giving up on that. Then I decided to build the chicken run since it was a cool, breezy day – perfect for manual labor.

I tried to drive the wood posts in first, then dug a hole and tried again. Then I decided to use thinner stakes, so repeated the whole process. It’s important to unerstand that the red clay here is extremely difficult to work in and every other foot is either a tree root or shale rock. After finally getting two posts staked solidly, I began to wrap the chicken wire. Suffice it to say that the ordeal ended not in a fenced area, rather tears.

Three unintended hours later, sore muscles, aggravation and frustration, and conceding defeat, I sit here without a single desire to go on, either in the field or on the keyboard. Thankfully, I am pushing through for at least the blog posts with hope that it will help another.

Be where your butt is, where your feet are. Be with your fin­gers and in the lin­ing of your Lungs: Going in. Going out. Your shoul­ders relax­ing into the world.

Wakeful Night - A Small Stone

I don’t know today

Yesterday I was so wise

Wakeful night

Survival Homestead

Oh, the hammer, the staples, muscles unknown

So ten chicks and a rooster can have a new home

Wack and pull weeds where the mower can’t go

Build the garden beds where the food will grow

Then to till the red clay earth and plant the seeds

Dirt under nails and blisters on knees

Heave-ho the shovel to dig the fire-pit

To tired, to sore to enjoy any of it

Only to burn the scrap wood after clean up

Of time and energy, there’s never enough

Lay the stones for the walk through the yard

Soft and flabby screams to be strong and hard

City life to survival homestead

Whatever was it that got into my head??

Early Morning Moments - AROS

Silken bowls twinkle in the sunrise

Cradle dewy imaginations

Tree limbs cocooned in stealth

Conjure Frankenstein images

Writing Inspiration

Following my dream of moving to the Appalachian Mountains was supposed to be for the sole purpose of writing. That really hasn’t happened – much. I’ve written a few blog posts at ravings of dkchi, I’ve written some poetry here at dk’s right to write, and in November 2011 I even signed up for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I managed 23K words and that was it.

The past few months I’ve been feeling the ember sparking a bit. Rather than pass through all the writing blog emails I subscribe to, I’ve actually been reading them. I’ve even subscribed to a few new ones. One of my favorite new ones is Jeff Goins, Writer. He is short and sweet, and makes me want to “steal lexes.”

His Writer’s Manifesto is a prime example of his brevity and encouragement.

Another is The Write Practice. The blog has prompts, contests, and simple tips. I’ve not partaken – yet – but every email from them brings me closer.

And of course, one I’ve mentioned previously, Writing Our Way Home, (WOWH).  This one I actually contribute to on a fairly regular basis and have made truly supportive, entertaining Internet friends. It was through WOWH that I found The Sunday Whirl. At one point, during those chilly winter (?) months, I at least wrote every Sunday. Now, I save them and the plan is to create an epic poem from all the Wordles.

Lately, I’ve had the desire to scratch with pen on paper. The feeling I have is that when I finally take the tablet and begin the etching this time, it will finally be that push to the finish line, if there is such a thing as a writer. I highly doubt it though, look at how many times Stephen Kings has ‘retired.’ Can you ever truly retire from your passion? Not sure, but right now I must go put nails in boards to finish a chicken coop. 

April 2, 2012 - Small Stone

Within soft blue cotton, warm gold and black at my feet, I sip hot black, 

surrounded by brilliant Cardinal, Bluejays, Finch, and Crow 

singing home the day.