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Young poet Brynn Downing’s sending out an SOS. Anyone have ideas for her?
As a child, I devoured books about pioneers and mythology–especially stories of hardship, and want. I’d take bread and ball it in water, then eat the mush, thinking I was one of them.
All my life, I’ve struggled with wanting more out of words. Hide the flashlights, I’ll read under the covers. If there’s a sentence I love, I’ll underline, circle, star it, then thrust that page in front of friends’ noses, waiting for them too to be healed.
Despite this gluttony, or perhaps because of it, I hesitate. The poem that’s brewing, it won’t write itself.
But some days I can barely bring myself to try.
One of the best parts of a workshop is leaving inspired. The classes I took at the Lit Fest made me want to seize all my pens, and write with both hands. But now, days after the last cup of coffee, I find myself hesitating.
I’ve tried setting time for myself, but it feels unnatural–and most days, I get distracted by the internet, or day dreaming, or rereading that one poem I’m proud of.
So tell me, how do you keep the words coming?