The Chickens Are Circling
My life is full of chickens. I have the actual living, clucking kind here on my pretend farm in the Hill Country, the hens who lay their darling little brown eggs, rendering every day of my life an Easter egg hunt in miniature — oh blissful country life! (Dang. Where is that sarcasm font?) Also, I have the metaphorical kind. The chickens who come home to roost in weeks like this one. (I’m not planning to go into detail here. Suffice it to say that those long weeks and months of ignoring everything except my manuscripts, basic hygiene and housekeeping, and keeping the dogs/fish/kids/hens alive came back to bite me in the backside this week. Ouch.)
And sometimes I’m the chicken. Writer Friends, you know what I’m talking about. Too chicken to take that risk — the one that will make your writing/life stronger and more meaningful. I’ve been clucking around long enough. I think I have to act slightly more chicken-hawkish this week.
Anyway, I thought you might enjoy this for National Poetry Month. Poet Laureate Kay Ryan talks about chickens, cartoons, finding your work in unexpected places, and writing exactly what you like — NOT what the world tells you you should write.
On that note, I’m skipping church tomorrow to stay home and write just that — exactly what I like. I think the Big Guy will understand. I’ll be writing about Him anyway.
News: I had a short story for children accepted by a new online children’s magazine called Bumples. It should appear in mid-September. Hooray! Also, my essay Excellent Stock came out in Sasee magazine, although it is not featured on the website. Darn.