One of my goals this summer was to write more (success? perhaps). However, my intention with that goal was to build up a body of fiction – or cleverly disguised nonfiction – so that my work in Tita’s class would be better-than-average and that I would have lots to revise for the months to come and…lots of things.
And all I seem to do is work on my thesis and write poetry.
This past Friday I was a bridesmaid in one of my best friends’ weddings. Shawn and I were talking the day before, catching up since we haven’t talked in ages, and I filled him in on some of this, how I just sort of found out that I’m a poetry person over the course of the past seven months. Do you know what he said? He completely didn’t believe me! He said that I’ve always been a poetry person (he was equating my love of good music and lyrical writing with poetry, which I hadn’t really put together). But David knew I was a poetry person too, way before I did, and he’s known me for less than two years. Shawn and I have been close for the better part of four. How did I miss this about myself, what they seem to have known all along?
I guess I really am going to get my MFA in poetry (or MA in Writing, if I can find the funding/get in to U-Galway). I just don’t understand how I didn’t understand this about myself, when others had picked up on it, assuming I knew? Shawn…now Shawn’s something else. Several years ago, he informed me calmly that I’d write a book, way before I ever thought about serious writing as anything other than a pipe dream. Funny how things go, isn’t it?
I know this has been incredibly informal, but it’s still writing. And it’s still things I needed to say to myself, so there goes.
(On a sort of unrelated note, I finally have a story idea, thanks to Shawn’s wedding. I ought to work on it soon before it poofs away.)