I am gearing up for this master class with Mary Ruefle on Friday. There is so much work to do. I am excited about my new poems with new voices, even if they are weird.
Got one of those nice, encouraging types of rejections today. I wish I had realized earlier, before diving in head-first, the scope of the rejection that comes with being a writer, and the depth of the masochism needed to accommodate it.
It needs to snow soon. If it's going to be terribly cold it needs to be terribly pretty as well.
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