Perhaps I’ve used this title before. I’m redundant like that, sometimes. I repeat myself; sometimes people say it’s cute or annoying, perhaps depending upon how cute or annoying I feel like being that day.
In writing, cute is the kiss of death. If an editor notes you’re being cute or clever, don’t say thank you, like a clueless dolt; instead, beg for mercy and promise not to waste her time with such insipid idle noodling ever again.
Today I’m a speck of dust afloat.
You wouldn’t recognize me in my present state.
I’m on the surface of stale elixir–a tiny barb
pricking a little dance across a sheen muddy mirror;
an errant dog hair or wisp of fallen web trapped
between sinking and floating free.
I lavish the instant gratification that comes with self-publishing here, yet the pros tell me to refrain. So I’ve been scribbling elsewhere and neglecting my blog, leaving me none of the instant feedback that I crave so much. I’m aiming for THE SUN, people! But that doesn’t make it cool to just blow you off like that, my oddball rant devotees! I’ll try to strike a balance between revealing too much and saying nothing at all.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between the gems and all the other gunk that springs forth along the way. And lately, (oddly to me) I’ve found some gems in need of polish. Never one to suffer from loving my own words, this is a rare treat for me.