So busy! I don't know what happened. But I'm bound and determined to continue posting, even if I can only spare the time for brief ones.
I went today to look at my website, to see if the technological problems that have been hounding me for a while have dissappeared (they haven't), and I looked at some of the features that I included from the templet page. One was the rudimentary beginnings of a blog, the "Updates" page, and I just really cracked up to see how different a writer I was, even a year or a few months ago. I lamented about how I was supposed to write, when I had nothing to write about, and how on earth did other writers find meaningful subjects, and implant metaphors and motifs into their writing...
I'm still laughing. I thought that I could revolutionize social thought in my writing, if only I had a subject to start with....
I also looked at some of my earlier poems, to see if I could recycle any for an upcoming submission. Again, laughter ensued. I thought that spewing out words that rhymed at the first go was poetry. I was content with my first draft, and just continued on-- wrote and wrote and wrote, without thought. If it rhymed, it went on the page. The rhyme schemes were ridiculous, stream with dream and seem, in a very Dr. Suess-ian way. (Although some of my Dr. Suess-esque writings I'm very proud of.) I wasn't concerned with revision or placement or word choice or anything. I was streamlining the process, going to the roots, the primal heart of the mind in stream-of-consciousness.
Oh, boy, my teenage writing agonies.
I wrote a poem the other day that showed how much I've matured. There was no rhyme scheme, just meter. There was several revisions, with addition and subtraction both. There was analysis of content. And after all this, I still stuck it in the back of a drawer because it wasn't "there" yet. I'm very proud of how much I've changed, and I can't wait until the day when I look back on that poem and say, "What was I thinking?"
What I'm listening to: ADELE "Melt My Heart to Stone"
Shelly Holder was born and raised in California's Mojave Desert, a heritage that unfortunately did not leave her tan. She is an only child, although her parents joke about her dog being in actuality a younger brother. Whether this is an insult to Shelly or to the dog will never be known. Shelly currently splits her time between CA and Virginia, where she attends college to get her BA in English/Creative Writing with a possible double major in another field that's also obscure and won't pay much money. Feel free to check out her website at www.shellyholder.com for more information and random tidbits.