Of course it’s not raining now…

High off the emotional drop of -not- seeing the Tiger’s trounce the Twinkies last night or today, (Curse you rain! Curse you job! I’ll never have seats that good again. *frowns*) I believe it may be time to fill you in on some lovely developments in the world of my writing.

First of all, it would appear that while my public speaking tends to be full of mishaps (e.g. my inability to adjust the microphone correctly, and thus having to lean into it the whole of the reading), my poetry was in fact well received. I was a little flabergasted as to how well received, in fact. I was actually asked to submit to another journal. Personal asked. I most fully intend to.

I feel like I’m showing off by stating this, but it’s nice to be able to keep the little rejection and self doubt monsters at bay for a while.

Also, if you haven’t yet, check out the September issue of the Ambassador Poetry Project (AmbassadorPoetry.com ). It includes work by some fantastic Michigan and Ontario poets, all of which are well worth the read. This area, as I’ve been saying about here and Ohio for ages, has so much more creative talent than people seem willing to give credit for. This journal is yet more proof of that marvelous fact.

Even if my parents were a little baffled by the solely digital format.

And finally, Go Tigers. If my boys can’t win the AL Central, you boys better!

And…public speaking…

DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens…
-Edgar Allen Poe Fall of the House of User

We’re getting in to my favorite season now. There’s a crispness in the mornings. Though…there has been since about mid-August, but I can pretend.

My first public reading is on Friday night and I am beyond panicked about this. I haven’t read poetry out loud since high school, which, well, we’ll just say was long enough ago to make me a little rusty. I have chosen a somewhat longer selection than my usual poetry that is more of a dialogue between my father and myself, but I am unsure about the protocol regarding this, and may switch to something more indicative of my style (and also a bit less prose in nature) after going through my files, as I intend to do later today.

That’s going to be messy as well. Some of the pieces in there haven’t seen the light of day in almost a decade…and with good reason.

There is power in youthful self-indulgent poetry though. I won’t deny that. Where would be be literarily without it?