Office, Monday Morning

Hailstones hammered the sky blue,

Washed the windows clean.

The lawn, busy in green, is a thousand starry faces as I pass,

Then each leaf, bent double with the dew, attends to the work

Of an earth on a tight spring schedule.

The noisy rush of water, trafficking down the river, ferries a million drops

Shaken from the trees by the light breeze—hurry, hurry—

A vulture, late commuter, tips a bronze wing in passing

Takes to the sky, elevating.

In my office, Monday morning

Even buzzards are eagles.

R. Fryar

I had a very difficult time coming up with a blog topic for today. It’s not that I couldn’t think of anything to write about, rather that I couldn’t figure out exactly what I wanted to say.

I’ve been busy for the last two weeks, revising Tree Gods. I had a few developmental things that needed some attention, but the biggest difficulty has been cutting sentences and paragraphs that I spent time crafting in favor of tighter prose that isn’t as pretty, but gets the job done in fewer words. I find myself exhausted by the end of the week. It’s a good kind of exhaustion as I see the pile of cut words mount, while knowing that they are all safely in track changes where they can be retrieved if it turns out that I do need them after all. I’m unfortunately a little aggressive with cuts!

I am so lucky. I have an agent who likes my book. At some point, it will be out on submission. Maybe an editor somewhere will like it too. And it’s by no means the only book I have written or will ever write. Already I have two stories percolating, and two revisions that are ready to start in the month of March. Sometimes it takes re-reading a poem I’ve written to remind me that it’s a special thing to wake up and know that going to the office on Monday morning is always delightful.

Have imagination. Will work for stories.