Sometimes, in stretches when I am not writing, it's hard to think about how to start again. I suppose it's like trying to time your entrance into or under an already skipping rope. Whole rotations swing by and still you stand there, trying to figure out how to jump in. Well, you just have to jump. And I just need to write. My poem-a-day partnership with Karin in April was fantastic. I didn't think about timing. I didn't think about tripping or getting tangled. I just wrote. Yes, Tommy was in school. Yes, I had whole chunks of the day when I could isolate myself from interruptions. And yet, I wrote on weekends. I did not let any activity stall me. I wrote almost anywhere. Something has changed, and I have a thousand excuses why I can't squeeze in writing. Last week, I canoed the North Branch of the Au Sable from Dam Four to Kellogg Bridge. (Exactly. One cannot paddle and write at the same time.) It's a pretty stretch, and along the way I spotted this little screened hut on a small island. I can't stop daydreaming about it. It's enough to get me writing.
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