Saturday, March 10, 2012

Publisher's Fair

My friend and I have recently decided to start working out every Monday and Wednesday together.

We didn't go last week because we were both swamped with midterms and what not.  We also didn't go this Wednesday because there was a publisher's fair up at BYU and we both thought that was a much worthier cause.

We also didn't work out on Monday, but that was just because we didn't feel like it yet.

At the publisher fair there was a bunch of different magazines and a few short story or book companies which were interested in what the students had to offer.  It was really cool to be in a place where people honestly wanted to make contacts in the professional writing world.

Mostly my friend and I spoke with the lovely people behind the desks and giggled inwardly about how neat it was.

It did make me realize that aside from the story for my hypothetical webcomic I haven't really been writing in the past couple years.  I didn't even have a serious idea to talk to these professionals about.

And now that I think about it I don't even have an idea that sounds appealing to me as a 'writer'*.

I like writing.  I like being a writer, and it kinda bother's me that I haven't been keeping up with it.

What this crisis of writing related faith translates to i my life is that I'm going to start writing creatively every morning. I haven't found time, so I'm going to make time.

And I'll only get a little discouraged when I suck at first.

What this translates to for you is that I'm going to post one of my poems that I happen to still be quite found of.  I was going to do a short story  but I lost all of my work when my computer died last year and there isn't anything new (and short) worth showing.

This Burning

Oh this sweet deep burning!
that finds me upon humbled knees
And  leaves me smitten, with a yearning
for the things i feel, but can not see

I reached out and with my fingers
felt something much more then air
and there -with those words- still lingers
a knowlege of something truly there

a stirring passage, a whispered prayer
that quiets my innermost qualms
i would give up every worldly care
for that book with in my palms

 Oh that beauty! Oh that voice!
that cries as if from the dust
Oh those martyrs! Oh that Choice!
That renders my loving trust.

I might post my first attempt, so that you can see what a year long break does to someone

* when you're no longer working on something then they kick you out of the club, it makes room for new victims.

1 comment:

  1. I think we saw that with your french fry poem and yet I enjoyed it. This poem really good thank you for sharing.