morning jot

something I keep forgetting but become reminded of and then forget again: I can’t remember, no way to remember, how many times I put something down and later it looked like it made absolutely no sense, or when trying to scribble a poem went ahead and let it veer and try to come back or not bother, you know, just playing with sounds and associations, free-writing…. anyway, I don’t know how many times someone around here saw something I didn’t or didn’t even have in mind – or even myself, I check back over something and I’ll see a connection or a relation or even a meaning I didn’t see before and didn’t even consciously intend.

So I’m slowly, slowly, slowly, learning – if you’re writing along or maybe momentarily stumped and you think of something or some concept or idea or word combo pops in the head – don’t ignore it. Put the thing down. Even if if feels like nonsense, even if you don’t use it right away or whatever – just put the fucker down. Maybe later after forgetting about it and then seeing it something will appear that wasn’t apparent before.

I’ve also been really getting into all the ways lines can be played with – it just opens up entire new ways to look at all this. the only problem is choosing a feel to focus on. Because what I thought were only three or four have multiplied. So I’ve been grabbing paragraphs and older poems and messing around – line breaks – oh the line breaks.

I’m just so amazed how the feel can change by changing the lines, where they break, without changing hardly a word of the thing. But that’s fun too, changing words, trying this one, that one, here, there, at the end, at the beginning, in the middle, go long here, short there…. which only makes escape more impossible.

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
This entry was posted in no idea, observation, poetry, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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