Can you tell him to keep the quality up you need more freedom to decide what to write? If he says you need "do what I tell you, or get out" then you will have a decision to make. Is there a risk even to asking him to back off? Again you have a decision to make as to whether to bring it up.
Bottom line though, if the work conditions for an unpaid gig are preventing you from doing work you are satisfied with maybe you should look for better ways to spend the time. Heck, do a regular diary on the Daily Kos, and you will probably reach a larger audience than a speciality blog. (The downside of that would be fairly nasty anti-feminist and anti-disabled posters in the comments section of the "why can't ya take a joke" variety.)
I think he's never really been anyone's editor before.
But that doesn't make his carping less annoying.
And of course, it's his brainchild. He is going to feel differently than I would.
Flattering suggestion, but I doubt I have the policy chops for Kos--they'd probably have me for lunch, and I don't mean porn.
Working on a poem for a friend's Xmas Present. The poem will intergrated onto a photo of my friend dancing at a party.
Tips, quips, chipsNdip all appreciated:
You know you have always been there,
Vital part of all we have seen and done;
The simple and the strange –
Death and birth and life.
All the attending boredoms and excitements
To which our intertwined existences have fallen prey.
Others around you have mutely plodded along life’s road;
some circled confusedly
and yet others have simply stopped,
too exhausted, too heartsore or stubborn
to move further into that they cannot yet comprehend.
You have always danced.
One always envies the dancers,
Wishes for that grace.
To be able to speak with the body!
The only universal language,
The one in which you are fluent, and fluid and filled with light…
And we, we just watch: aching, heavy. Stone-still; granite-dumb.
Other dancers deny entry to the dance:
“It is too sacred. It is not for you.”
Your dance is always joyous invitation –
“Come! Laugh! Dance!”
And so, we plodders, we confused, exhausted, stubborn…
We willingly grasp your outstretched hands,
Believe your smile, believe you touch will to extend us
A grace, a benison,
A merengue, a salsa,
Hip to the hop,
Drop-it-like-it’s-hot
Your joy will spill to us and
We can dance.
Finallydance.
Just dance.
Oh, Erin. That is absolutely beautiful.
::sniffles::
Damn allergies.
Thanks, Sail. I am nervous -- all us girls agreed to do a make-it-yourself Secret Santa this year, and I am the sole writerly one among a shitload of talented visual artists.
I am going to change "It is too special" to "It is too sacred" and enjamb the first two words. Unless someone can suggest a better alternate to sacred? Or maybe just drop "You know" altogether?
I think it will be a great gift.
I agree with your instinct about sacred and dropping "you know."
These lines seem a bit awkwardly long:
some circled confusedly, like dogs whose noses have lost the scent-trail,
to move further into what it is that they cannot yet comprehend.
Would these work?
some circled confusedly, like dogs who have lost the scent-trail,
to move further into that which they cannot yet comprehend.
That does help clarify! Thanks for the feeback.
For me, in poetry, less is always more.
some circled confusedly, like dogs whose noses have lost the scent-trail,
to move further into what it is that they cannot yet comprehend.
some circled like dogs who've lost the scent-trail
to move further into what they cannot yet comprehend.
Spoken aloud, both those shorter lines have a nice forward rhythm, too. Something I find invaluable about poetry: movement. Sometimes the delight of movement will carry you over an inconvenient word or a slightly off-kilter image, a smooth rhythm incorporating the oddness and making the poem both more cohesive and more memorable.
And sometimes it just sounds wrong. Poetry should always be spoken aloud, walking, if possible. I do it with fiction as well but, at least for me, hearing it moving is essential.
I never understood Shakespeare until I heard it read and performed. The hearing of it brought it to life. It's true for all poetry, I think.
I never understood Shakespeare until I heard it read and performed. The hearing of it brought it to life. It's true for all poetry, I think.
Taking that one step further, Bev, I never fully appreciated Shakespeare until the Ken Branagh adaptations because of his insistence that the dialogue be spoken as conversationally as possible as opposed to with a theatrical inflection. It was amazing how much more devastating Henry V was and how hilariously funny Much Ado was.
