8/24/2005

QOTD

The only way to get published is to persist. Oh yeah, and writing writing writing, writing as hard and as well and as much as you can. All you can do is write the best poems you can figure out how to write, and keep on sending them out -- the rest is out of your control. That, and not letting either acceptance or rejection go to your head. When you sit down and face the blank page, that page doesn't give a crap who's accepted or rejected you before. It's a fresh challenge every single time. And that's the beauty of it.
Anne Haines of Land Mammal via Ivy

And yesterday too, I randomly picked up Write Mind from my bookshelf, and randomly flipped open to entry 99, which said something like:

Wrong Mind: All I write is drivel!
Write Mind: I am blocking my own creativity. The next time I come to the page, I won't write about what just interests me. I will write a pool of my own blood on the page.

And I thought Oh! That's why I'm so afraid of my writing! *facepalm*

Bleeding on the page...vulnerability...lack of borders...victimization...hurt...

But like Christ, can I bleed to bring about healing and reconciliation?

Now /there's/ a challenge.

3 comments:

Sky said...

Writing a pool of blood...

This reminds me of Odin, Norse patron of writing and poetry, among other things. He got the position by bringing the runes to light, by hanging himself on the World Tree.

In the midst of his sacrifice and pain, he retrieved the runes and brought them out to the world.

...so writing and sacrifice, sacrifice for the good of the world, have a symbolic and semiotic bond at least 1500 years old.

It's a twisted gift, to be able to call up words from pain and nothingness, but still a gift. I think you have that gift.

EILEEN said...

I'm going blind so when I read the first line of this post, I read it as "The only way to get published is to perish..."

and I was sitting on moi ass heee-hawwing for, like, five minutes...then wiped the tears off to continue reading your post ... which was when I realized my misread. Oh well, the experience was good for losing a pound...

Rebecca Mabanglo-Mayor said...

*chuckles* Looks like the angels are playing tricksies on you, Eileen.