12-01-03

I spent most of today happily trapped in the literary magazine office. To be surrounded by other intelligent, opinionated women is a joy. I've found my tribe. *laugh* What is it? Ah yes, friends are the family we choose. It's trite and sentimental, but there's truth in there.

I pick up my newly-minted chapbooks tomorrow afternoon. *bounce bounce bounce* I'm planning my next one. I suppose that my school break will be spent whomping some "story seeds" into shape, maybe playing with some classic forms of poetry (I have a horrible hankering to play with a pantoum), and spending time generating new ideas. One of my texts from the autumn term is called Writing Without the Muse by Beth Baruch Joselow and it's primed the pump. Inspired by an exercise in the book, I wrote a strange story about a man that ends with him standing on a bridge over the Mississippi between Memphis, TN and Arkansas staring towards the delta. It's rough, but I like the bones. I'm curious about finding out what he does on that bridge.

Oop. Better stop. I'll get myself all in a lather, then I'll ignore the final papers that I've got for this term until the last possible moment. It'd be a silly thing to do.

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* I like your words more and more, lady.

** Thank you. Gosh and golly. You're pretty damn amazing yerself -- s'truth!

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