...forgive the maritime metaphors, I'm channelling Adrienne Rich.
Having started a couple of blogs in the past - one food-related, one poetry-related, both displacement activities (but then most of what I do in my spare time is a displacement activity of one kind or another), I have been lured back online again to try my hand for a third time (it's the charm, right? Although Waugh warned us all in no uncertain terms about the dangers of charm).
Partly because I think there are some possible gems in the abandoned poetry blog (what Rich might call glitter in fragments and rough drafts) which deserve a home, and partly because recently most of my friends seem to have developed a writerly habit, either online or in print, and to be truthful, I feel a little left behind. I used to write compulsively, almost like a nervous reaction; something would happen and I would write about it. I don't do that so much anymore, in part I suspect because of Facebook and Twitter - not that I am knocking them, I have no ambivalence towards them and no angst about using them; but I think they offer a near-constant means of communicating in textual form: a drip-feed rather than the sudden purge of a paragraph of text. Apologies for the bloody imagery. Hopefully this blog might resurrect not my ambitions but my compulsions, and my long-neglected relationship with the written word.
So, with a little hesitation, this is me diving into the wreck again, having read the book of myths and loaded the camera - forewarned and forearmed. Rich was a wise woman indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment