Hello, Failure

Of all the enemies of literature, success is the most insidious

Wednesday, June 18, 2003

Failure of the Day: The Silence of the iambs

OK I admit it; I thought up that title and then had to think fast to come up with an entry that was even vaguely related to it because I thought it so cool. Phase 2 of thinking up a cool title? Immediately assuming I stole it from somewhere. A quick Googling confirms that although I am not the only person who thought of it, I don't seem to have stolen it outright so ok. On to ad hoc topic.

After spending yesterday's entry continually referring to myself as a poet, I have to wonder about the extent to which it is still true. I haven't written a poem in over 18 months. I'm trying to not even think about poems because I'll get all distracted and put my novel aside until the poem is done. That's true theoretically, but really, I wonder if I know how to write poems anymore. If I started one, could I even finish it?

I've become really, really wordy since finishing NaNo—anyone who's received an email from me can attest to that. All of a sudden, I'm rambly. I go on and on. I have verbal bulimia. I still think of writing one line at a time instead of in stories or premises, but now I put them in full sentences instead of just pretty little clauses.

I expect to finish the second draft of my novel by the end of the summer. After that, I'll need to send it to people to read, which I think might entail not writing it for a little while. So I'll have to go back to poems. I think that might turn out to be the deciding factor as to whether I do NaNo again this year—if I suck at poems, I run straight for Self-Portrait in Other People's Genitals, I guess.


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