The clicking of the keys on my laptop is comforting, a sound that makes me feel like I am accomplishing something. I have been doing some free-writing tonight to release the pressure of thinking that I should be writing more poems. I always feel I should be writing more poems, but lately I seem to be writing in spurts.
I am still excited about the body series, but those require research, something better left for the weekends when my brain has had a chance to recover from trying to reason with middle schoolers all day. (Reason and middle-schoolers don’t usually mix very well.) So I heard the old “hush, little baby” lullaby on television, and took off on a free-write tangent about the logical problems with the premise of that lullaby.
It was quick and enjoyable to write (and I think it’s pretty funny as well), but I want to fine tune it a little before posting. This effort helped to lighten my spirits about writing, lifted the weight of expecting something “good” when I sit down with my journal or at the keyboard. Every year, Peter Murphy (at the Winter Getaway) reminds us that we are there to write (in his words) “sh*tty first drafts.” There, it seems easy to just roll, to let the words come out and see what happens. But once I get home, and the time to write starts to shrink, I am hard on myself if I feel I am not always producing “quality” drafts.
But quality is subjective. And revision is my favorite part of the process, anyway. So tonight is a good reminder to tell my internal editor to just hush and let the words do their work.