Breathing Room

Fear of Flying

Don't dwell on the book's reception. The point is to get on with it-you have a life's work ahead of you-no point in ddallying around waiting for approval. We all want it, I know, but the point is to reach out honestly-that's the whole point. I keep feeling that there isn't one poem being written by any of us-or a book or anything like that. The whole life of us writers, the whole product I guess I mean, is the one long poem-a community effort if you will. It's all the same poem. It doesn't belong to any one writer-it's God's poem perhaps. Or God's people's poem. You have the gift-and with it comes responsibility-you mustn't neglect or be mean to that gift-you must let it do its work. It has more rights than the ego that wants approval.

I've just discovered Erica Jong and what a wonderful discovery she was. She's like a douse of cold water. I'm finshing her newest autobiographical book, Seducing the Demon: Writing for My Life and she really inspires me. I've always felt that no matter if my writing is good or just plain stinks I need it to keep my sanity and to retreat to a place that is mine.

She's so honest and blunt. I love it. I can always learn from another's mistakes or understand my own mistakes through another's experiences. Erica made many, but she gained a lot of clarity through the process.

I have a journal at home that David bought me for Christmas. I had asked for it and I thought the description of it that I had written for him was extremely vague and I honestly didn't expect to see it on Christmas. Surprisingly he found it. I can't write one word in it. I know its ridiculous. I tell myself its ridiculous. I entertain thoughts of whether I should write in pen or pencil (it came with a pencil). I choose pen. Then I start thinking about what type of pen and what color and how my handwriting changes and how I want to write the same way so that it looks nice and I end up writing absolutely nothing. This is what I go through. It's disgraceful, especially since I call myself a writer of sorts. Tonight I'll see if I can crack open my journal but even as I'm writing this my mind is beginning the onslaught of ridiculous questions that I always entertain....any ideas?