Stuck in a writer's not quite block but boring cycle...

I'm supposed to be writing. As in, every day. Well, I do-this- but I've run dry. Maybe it's because teaching lately has required more braining than usual. And I guess I'm feeling fairly prose-y, rather less poetic than usual. 

At any rate, I write. It's awful stuff. It's dreck. But it's words. 

I will allow the process to work itself out. 

What choice do I have?


Maybe tomorrow words will come, when I'm not so concerned about essay revision and comma splices, and sentence fragments and irritable parents and lackadaisical kids and AP Language, and and and...

Teaching can be pretty antithetical to being creative in the scant few off hours.

Have a good day, and yeah... talk about mundane... today, I get my exhaust fixed on the car. 

Hug your loved ones. The winter is cold and dark. So is the news.

C




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