"art isn’t a sack race" (Charles baxter)

At the barnes and noble this sleepy Sunday afternoon, my husband sits across from me engrossed in online discussions of the various particulars of his hobbies–comic books and comic book related things–while our baby girl naps in her carseat beside us. I am slowly working my way through an ambitious stack of literary and writing related magazines. I have been thinking over my craft this week; about taking my time with it, while still engaging in all aspects of being a Poet with passion. Perhaps not a paradox? My greatest trouble isn’t lack of ambition, it’s knowing when to slow down. At the same time, as others with a Passion can attest, I Want it, how can I help but go after it with all I’ve got? “it” being..a book, of course. I plan on sending The Manuscript out several times this year…but I know I need to wait until this fall; I need to take the summer to revise, again. I’m not the same poet I was last summer. That will always be the case. Sometimes I feel daunted, pursuing the elusive book deal…but lately I have felt truly like it could happen, maybe even in the next five years or so. Especially, and Not in spite of, with ,my life being oh so filled with everyday glories–a profession, a husband I love, babies and more babies, and my awkward blooming faith.

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