Posts Tagged ‘NaBloPoMo’



July 31, 2011

Tomorrow, the challenge starts. I have crazily, stupidly, bravely committed to writing a blog post a day for the month of August. The theme at the Nablopomo website, ( the site hosting the challenge ) is “fiction” which is really appropriate. As an only child, I grew up creating whole fantasy worlds to keep myself amused. As an adult, I am given to creating fiction both on the page, and at times, in my real world. This is sometimes beautiful, sometimes disastrous. Still, as crazy as I am about the theme, I have no idea what the heck I am going to write about for 31 days. There are daily prompts on the Nablopomo website, and I’ll be relying heavily on those. If they don’t speak to me, I’ll be pulling stuff from thin air, old journals, grocery lists and the odd drunken rant. There will probably be a lot of fluff and a lot of crap. At least, though, I’ll be showing up to the page everyday. You have my blessing to take me to task if I don’t.

Oh, and does this post count? šŸ™‚


Anybody Home?

July 4, 2011

My dog ate my blog posts. Except it was my cat – and he more or less shredded them, rather than ate them. That’s my official excuse for neglecting my scribbles.

The truth is that this unusually busy semester of teaching has kicked my butt, and left me blocked and blah , with no energy to go searching for inspiration.

Now that the semester is done, I have no excuse. With that in mind, I am committing to a 30-day blogging challenge in August, where I will post every day for 30 days, in the hopes of getting unblocked.

I will need topics, people – lots of ’em. Please email or comment with anything under the sun that you would like to see me attempt to write about.

In the meantime, here’s an old poem I wrote for an old friend who has always been a source of inspiration, even in the dry times.

Under the skin,
between shy veins,
I know a story you have never told.

I am barely
a story you know
though I am written into your palm,
hidden between the the bones you show.
I am the softer beat underneath your hum,
a tiny-fingered thing
full of a foreign rhythm
that will not be held.

I am such a false-bottomed friend.
Were you in my hands,
I would give you the truth
to hold between your teeth
even as your long fingers
tell my story
to another.

Topics please? Send in your requests, and I’ll try to put it on for you.