Last Sunday, I made a focused effort to go back to poems I left abandoned. Rough drafts I left to the wayside after being workshopped by Ron Goba or Stone Soupers.
This was over fifty pages worth of work. At least two years worth of material.
Out of the five or six poems I worked on, four were sent out before I went to bed. Two have already been accepted.
I can't leave work to rot like that for so long ever again.
I have to treat my work better. Not just my writing but all my records and papers. I've been negligent with a lot of it for far too long.
Writers, artists, take note. As you get older, more lax, less organized, the line between calling your papers life's work and trash becomes, well, paper thin.
This was over fifty pages worth of work. At least two years worth of material.
Out of the five or six poems I worked on, four were sent out before I went to bed. Two have already been accepted.
I can't leave work to rot like that for so long ever again.
I have to treat my work better. Not just my writing but all my records and papers. I've been negligent with a lot of it for far too long.
Writers, artists, take note. As you get older, more lax, less organized, the line between calling your papers life's work and trash becomes, well, paper thin.
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