Agonies of a Young Author

I was going to make this a quick appearance, to announce that my poem "A Writer's Apology" is published today at EverydayPoets.com but I've realized that such a brief note isn't satisfying to me. Trying to analyze why, I believe that it's because I have done so much in the past two days, the momentum won't let me skip out in laziness. So.

I think "A Writer's Apology" might be one of the most mature of my published works. I feel that I am developing the spare, lyric style that poetry celebrates, but with the technical details of punctuation (especially hyphens) that I wish to represent my voice. Of course, I have a long way to go. But this poem gives me hope.

She got edited out of the title, but this poem still is as it always was- for Michelle.

On to fun things. In the past two days I have:

-bought the home exercise machine I have obsessed over for two years. It's this awesome leg machine for the inside and outside thighs, and it's killing me. Conversely, I heart it.

-started my jewelry up again, and bought the books on metal working that I wanted. And am settling on a title for my small business license. Wholesale, baby!

-bought out of print Sherwood Smith books on Amazon. They may make some sh*tty business decisions that piss me off (see AmazonFail), but I admit I like the interface of the Kindle better than the Nook, and the secondhand sellers seem reliable. Hence, out of print Sherwood Smith at $9 and $10 instead of $25 and $32. Yeah, exactly.

- have bought entirely too many other books to qualify for free shipping, and have gorged myself on Kindle. Two forms of reading, twice as many deductions from my account. *rulerhandsmack*

-have discovered some fun new artists through various means, including the lovely single "Jar of Hearts" from Christina Perri, Tristan Prettyman, and The Pierces. And I have added to my collection of Zero 7, Moby, and ABBA (what can I say, I have eclectic tastes.) Yum, music.

-reread some old friends squirreled away here at Ye Olde Childehood Homestead. It's good to be home for the summer.

-gorged myself on Hollywood gossip. (I have this thing for Angelina Jolie. It's stupid, it's probably only half-true, and I buy the magazines anyways. Anyone notice that three or so this month have her on the cover? Fascinating. . .)

-finally got myself back into the business of submitting poems. I write, fairly consistently, but submitting is the real true talent behind it all. Trust me. Understanding the market is hard.

-ate entirely too much. Which leads me back to the beginning, and my super-duper awesome cellulite blasting leg torture device. Because I may be twenty-one, but this writer lifestyle has done nothing for me. The grass has withered, my friends, the grass has withered. Another side effect of living in the desert.

Right Now:
What I'm listening to: The Pierces "The Secret" (I love the cheerful French style accordian melody against the morbid lyrics)
What I want most: Mmmmm, still the release of Jennifer Estep's Venom. But the whole month of September is rather wonderful for my in terms of new books.