poetrybyheart.me

Today the cool breeze of early autumn stirs the leaves on the big oak tree outside my window. It rained all day two days ago and I could see for the first time that leaves had fallen on the stones of the patio below. For now bright sun casts shadows on the desk beneath the window where a basket of bills to be paid and three house plants sit. The desk drawers serve to store file folders and personal business-related stuff.

The room I write in is the smaller bedroom of two in my apartment. Against one wall is a futon intended for guests whose main occupant is a little plush stuffed Eeyore who has been with me for a while. On the walls are a couple of framed diplomas, a wooden clock in the shape of Ohio that ticks away time, a picture in the shape of a turtle created from folded paper and a swing-arm lamp. On the wall opposite the futon, my desktop computer sits on a glass-topped table with my land-line telephone on one side and my printer on the other. A comfortable office chair completes the set. This is the stage setting for my writing. The minute I sit at my computer to write it dissolves and my writing process absorbs me.

Prompts and creative ideas come from Word Press, daily experiences and reflections, memories, out-of-the-blue lines for poems, what’s going on out my window, the newspaper. Inspiration reaches me at a feeling level. It is like a seed planted that I can trust will grow into writing when I sit down at my computer. Writing haiku I begin on paper to keep track of the allotted syllables. Everything else takes form as I type. This is where the magic happens. I have a general idea where I am going but that is often not where I end up. Words written remind me of other words and I follow the trail like breadcrumbs tossed out by my muse. I tinker and tweak until I like what is on the screen before me. It is a tiny aha! moment when I’m satisfied that I’ve translated my feelings and ideas into words. Besides my helpful muse, a mischievous genie lives in my computer. Sometimes when I’ve written something particularly long I strike a key I’m unaware of and all that I’ve written vanishes. I haven’t figured how to restore it. However, I don’t give up. Doggedly I begin again only this time I abbreviate my piece. The result usually turns out much better for the editing and I thank my genie for knowing when I’ve gone on too long.