Life, as we write it…

I wrote this piece, venting, over at my long lost ‘writing site’. I haven’t written on Escaping the Inkwell in ages. Years actually. I thought it high time, partly because I didn’t want to vent and fill up Kate’s Bookshelf. But you can read my moody post buy clicking over.

Escaping the Inkwell

William Faulkner’s Underwood Universal Portable sits in his office at Rowan Oak, which is now maintained by the University of Mississippi in Oxford as a museum. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Honestly, I’m not exactly sure why I am writing over here at Escaping the Inkwell since for some time I’ve thought of discontinuing using it. I post most of my thoughts over on Kate’s Bookshelf, including my life in writing these days. But I just wanted to take a moment and vent a little.

Right now I am busy busy with Writer’s Digest’s PAD Challenge (Poem a Day). I have kept up my flash fiction and general writing. I try to write a post a week, or in this case, every day. It’s exhausting at times and I wonder why I decide to do it halfway through a challenge. I’m not really there yet, but I feel the burned out.  I…

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PAD Day 8 – Doodles

A doodle starts between those moments
when my pen doesn’t write words
a swooping line arching up, back down
a thought on the very verge
but then the lines are not letters wound
tight in stories, now swooping back up
down and forth, a seam of lines
out come the pearls so close up
little drops of caviar so aligned
a poke leaf or two, not a poem
but a symphony of swirls and drops
No thought, no rules, only gems
of black lines impatient stops.

I tend to doodle, or dabble in Zentangle when I can’t concentrate on writing. And I wasn’t srue where I wanted to go with this. I feel like I should have doodled out thoughts on Outlander because that is where my focus is right now. As I write this I’m looking up the show and images because I’m kind of hooked as I read the book. But I do find when I can’t concentrate on writing, I draw and doodle, sticking to about five specific designs. I have cards filled with them, and in the margins of notebooks, and on random scraps of paper.

I think I picked it up watching my mom on the phone and the drawing she would do. I didn’t get it until I started being on the phone more with people I didn’t really want to talk to.

I find that I’m more apt to go and actually do something, like makes beds, and water, and pick up things, while I’m on the phone. I feel like I need to do something. I actually had someone ask me why I was so out of breath while I was on the phone and I said I was making a bed. He laughed and didn’t get it, but I can’t sit still while I’m on the phone.

I don’t know if this poem works, and this one is a harder one to do, but it’s something.
Kate