I think of myself as an artist first and writer second. Franklly, I’m a very poor mother and housekeeper, but I do color and an occasional word well. Yes, I am laughing at myself.
I was called on my writing the other night by an engineer poet who wondered what I was doing.
“Doggerel,” I told him. The truth is, I’ve been doing not one bit of serious writing.
Having just finished Pat Conroy’s “My Reading Life,” which isn’t just about books, I was inspired to write a short essay about something in my own life. To keep the one topic essay reasonably short, I not only need to truncate the sentences, but I need to edit far more severely than I have so far. Slash and burn is me today.
There are readers, like the wonderful Tabor, who always sound surprised when I mention something I did. They ask for more. I need to learn to write well enough to provide more, or I need to provide more of these vignettes however they are written.