So I'm doing the National Novel Writing Month contest. AlligatorLegs inspired me to do it, and the BluePrintChronicles project is reinforcing the importance of this decision. Like many of us, I have so much creative energy but I somehow keep finding ways to neglect it. No more. I'm writing and that's that.
I'm going to start off by going back through all the poetry and short stories and essays I have accumulated over the years. It's scary to think about it, but I literally have a decade's worth of creative writing stored and filed around me, just sitting there gathering dust. The vast majority of it may very well be patently bad writing. But I KNOW, from the rush I get from a well written or well performed poem, from the positive feedback of well-regarded peers and mentors, and from... just my core, that some of it is good and worthy of sharing with others.
Who knows what that means, to share it with others. It may be on this blog. It may just be on the NaNoWriMo website. Who knows? But God willing, I'm writing something significant in November 2009, the month and year that marks my 28th year on this planet. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Here's a little something:
I am an artist
I am and art is
A risk to take
a fist to shake at convention
What is art if not the heart blood?
If not the spark plug,
If not the nutrients pulled from the roots of our imagination,
If not self-discovery,
A pointing finger,
Lingering inches from the world’s third eye
Pressing and pushing,
demanding the why’s, how’s, and what’s?
What is art?
Art is what I am
I am an artist
Is art an eye, looking into the inner workings of humanity?
Is it still art if it’s profanity?
Shit, I don’t know
But why can’t it be?
My alm, my balm, my psalm, my sanity
Cuz art just is and so
an Artist is me
or what I will grow to be