This is a type of blog I don’t normally “like” or “follow;” however I have done both, as well as having left a comment–as I most often do–because I feel that, at the very least, its author’s heart is in the right place.
This entry is very instructive for a number of reasons: Continue reading
…the fact that I’m not ‘following,’ and indeed quite literally, not ‘liking’ the poetry site in question below:
However quite a lot of writing and thinking, among other edifying activities went into this whole exchange, so I’m snipping the whole thing here, along with a part of the article under which my original comment was posted. Continue reading
I made a rather long reply to Chris Martin’s blog. Here it is–hopefully and eventually, more throughly edited. It seemed like a good time to inaugurate a subblog because at such time, I find I express myself rather better and rather more passionately even if in a more plain spoken way.
You do manage to garner a large share of comments. Apart from my #1 fan, I hardly get any!
My take on peer review in general: You don’t need peer review, you need expert review.
What is it about some number of us? So talented? Well educated? Eclectic? Well read? What makes us choose to be cabbies and maintenance men, and dishwashers, and janitors? I have often wondered what is the common thread in those of us who fit that description.
I am a 49 year old maintenance man who wants to write for a living. My first novel, “Catskinner’s Book” is now available on Amazon, and I am working on a sequel.
“What Terrifies Me” was written as part of a writer’s challenge on LiveJournal about five years ago. It is a personal essay, I guess you’d call it.
Misha Burnett
I had originally reblogged this from plain friends blog, but there was no way to move it here. other than to create a new post.
To lucas or not. To moderate or not. To unrestrict or not.
This is a very strange topic. I would not have expected you to take note. Very true regarding creating/over editing. Still it is a rather strange and immediate medium we have here. In the 1800s, one might spend a year or so reworking and otherwise going over a book of poetry before even submitting it to a publisher (for even more re-edits.) I see this current process as a way to watch a work evolve–if anyone might be interested.
You may find this hard to believe, but I do not do that much lucasing–not nearly as much as you might guess. I am not obsessive with it. But when I find an error while reading something aloud (usually to Mrs. Emeron) I take advantage of my notice. There is something about a change in modalities that brings to light things one may have missed. For example, I can go over and over and over a new piece in the editing mode (black print on white) and then look at the published post–even just a glance (white print on black) and I will find things I will have missed before. Reading aloud has a similar effect. Even reading either to myself, or to Mrs. Emeron or to a colleague–all three of these are like different modalities and cause me to see things I did not see before.
I do change things when I notice them, or when the light goes on above my head and I exclaim “Eureka! Why did I not see this before!!”
I do feel a bit lonely for writing as I have been working on other things and using that hiatus to reformat what I already have written. It does please me to fix my excessive punctuation and give my works titles and streamline and fix my “sequences.” But very true, apart from some edits that I perform it is mostly digital grunt work. It is a way I can keep my hand in with what is now very limited time.
Still, I hear that appeals attorney Dr. Alan Dershowitz writes TWO sonnets every day and has for many years–even given his very full schedule. However, Google, Bing, &c. find no mention of it. When looking around to see if any are published, either in book form or web form somewhere, I find nothing, so perhaps the individual who told me this made it all up. One would think one might find at least a few hits on it or a mention of it in wikipedia, but I can find nothing.
If I were, for example, a marxist operative I might tell a poet something like this if I wanted to stop him from writing in the hopes that it would dishearten his attempts. Still I find it hard to believe that anyone, marxist or otherwise would notice, let alone care about, my four hits a day–which is what I receive if I am not actively engaged in the back and forth of the blogosphere.
In any case, my point is that one may write one sonnet every day–or two–no matter what one is doing. One might have to resort to a trick or two–speed writing techniques, I mean. I have, in fact, experimented with these. They do work. I can write a well-formed sonnet in under 10 minutes. But even though they read nicely and one might not be able to tell that they were that quickly written, still, there is no substitute for the type of sonnet that takes days of research and meditation and revision and experimentation to write. Both can be nice to read, but one can generally tell one from the other.
Partly, that is what the “Etudes” series is about: namely concentrating on types of writing and types of sound without worrying too much about what is being written. It is an interesting process because one sees in such cases what simply pops out of ones subconscious.
So in essence, I may spend 10 minutes when that is all I have and longer when I have more time to spend. Still, I admit I have been enjoying the re-editing process, most of which is cosmetic and functional rather than content modifying.
If I had my site hosted elsewhere, I could fix some things more quickly by writing shell scripts. I despair whenever I think that now that I have merged all three sites into one, all the internal links mentioned in posts or comments need to be fixed. There is no way I can do this easily. I simply fix deal links when I notice them, or if someone else brings them to my attention.
Ye Gods! But I do go on!! I think I should repost this as a regular entry. And in fact, I just did so.
perfection is seen reflected
in the blade of my sword
greens and golds
melt on the blade
with a thin edge of blue
snow swirling,
resting, melting,
white glimmers,
now red as it reflects
early blooms of quince
blood rust, sun gold
seasons change
shades of grey
glints of starlight and full moon
in the blackness after midnight
an ever changing picture
less than two inches wide
Yes…. Yes indeed…. Most definitely crazy….
…could help teach him to defend himself. He soon found out from the locals that there was such a man that could help him. A man of great strength and great power. This man’s name was Emeron, but he was said to be crazy and belligerent. Forced out by the people he was now considered to be an outcast, and had been so for many, many years now. Ocieleoz sought to find him and found a man unfamiliar to him in the woods and followed him back to his house. After a week of watching him daily, and finding out this was indeed Emeron, Ocieleoz approached him only to be shut down by threat of death. Ocieleoz continued to watch and spy on Emeron for a few weeks, learned his habits and routines, until one evening Emeron did not show up to his house. Ocieleoz took this opportunity to sneak into Emeron’s house, but was soon caught in a trap just inside the back door that roped his foot and flung him upside down. Hitting his head on the ground during this knocked him out. He was woken by Emeron later that night. Recognizing Ocieleoz to be the priests son, he fetched Arwén to come retrieve his boy. Ocieleoz was forbidden by his father to never speak to Emeron again….
David Emeron: Sonnets 