I've been thinking about turning 50 next year, and what I haven't done that I would really like to do. One thing that I want to do is perform spoken word/poetry live again. It would give me great pleasure to actually publish a chapbook of poems again and go on a little tour doing readings. My tentative goal is to make that happen by the Spring of 2016. In order to do this I will need to focus on these things:
1) Attend open mikes around town.
2) Host a gig myself
3) Finish my poetry chapbook
4) Publish my poetry
5) Practice self-promotion of some kind.
6) Blog
Ok, now I have put it out there. Let the magic begin!
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Saturday, July 31, 2010
90 Days of Blogging
I have decided to write something for this blog, or my other one, every day for 90 days. It's kind of a test to see how dedicated I can be as a writer. Since I have such difficulty practicing writing, this may help. I don't know. I got this idea from a friend. His name is Jeff Engels and he has this kick-ass Mariners blog at http://www.jeffsmariners.com . He's been doing it faithfully for the past few months.
We'll see how this works out.
We'll see how this works out.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Burn It All Down -- fiction story
Burn It All Down
I hid in the dark and watched my handiwork. I had been up for four days and could not sleep. I couldn’t eat and lived on Vitality water. She was gone and I was still here. So it was only fitting that I made a pyre out of my regrets and longings. Burning The Midnite Oil down was a cliché too delicious to forgo. I had to do it. Why? She was gone, that’s all. So it had to go. My club. My beautiful, horrible club, burning to the ground, drowning under the water from the firefighter’s hoses. My night manager, Cliff, made a statement to the press. With a look of shock across his smug goateed face. His piercings glittering in the glare of camera lights. Haha, Cliff. I hope you are struck with insomnia, you prick. I yawned as I watched the spectacle die down.
That night I had the best sleep of my life.
(I got the idea for this from a prompt on the Writers Digest page).
I hid in the dark and watched my handiwork. I had been up for four days and could not sleep. I couldn’t eat and lived on Vitality water. She was gone and I was still here. So it was only fitting that I made a pyre out of my regrets and longings. Burning The Midnite Oil down was a cliché too delicious to forgo. I had to do it. Why? She was gone, that’s all. So it had to go. My club. My beautiful, horrible club, burning to the ground, drowning under the water from the firefighter’s hoses. My night manager, Cliff, made a statement to the press. With a look of shock across his smug goateed face. His piercings glittering in the glare of camera lights. Haha, Cliff. I hope you are struck with insomnia, you prick. I yawned as I watched the spectacle die down.
That night I had the best sleep of my life.
(I got the idea for this from a prompt on the Writers Digest page).
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