The Lapsed Blogger

I am back... after a whirwind of events in starting a new year, mostly writing-related, I have returned to my post. I don't know how many of you are actually monitoring my site (and, once again, my apologies for not delivering or following up on my weekly writing entries), but I have been approached by a waiting groupie or two asking 'hey you, what's happening with your blog?'. In my defense, I also had some technical difficulties caused by changing my email address and experiencing a failing wireless router. The good news is, I have a slew of new ideas and projects I am working on that I can't wait to share with all of you. The blog entries may have ceased for a bit, but you can rest assured the writer has not.

As I stated from the beginning, this is a writer's blog, aimed to address the victories, trials and tribulations in the act of writing. It is not always about being alone in a quiet space, but also the part where we have to emerge from safe shells (the thoughts and keyboard) and take our words off the printer and out into the world. We are not just working with words, we are working with people -- and, let's face it, people who are otherwise known as publishers can be scary. We send off our paper victories hoping to receive something back in ink that reads 'we want you'.

I have been working at sending myself out into that world again. I've recently submitted poems to Descant and Poetry magazine, as well as Malahat Review. I'm keeping a record template of all my submissions (life can get a bit scattered at times, and I need structure, reference, time management and evaluation).

In between all of the creative writing mayhem (it's only mayhem because I have so many things I want to be doing at the same time), I am now working full-time as a Correspondence Writer in the BC Ministry of Health. Yes, this is a steep learning curve and I am half-way through my probation period (6 months). I love knowing that I am a writer in every sense of the word, and that I am getting a pay cheque for writing. Every crevice of my life is writing. How fortunate is that?

Victoria's poet laureaute, Carla Funk, said to me "you're always writing, aren't you?" I had to answer "yes". I took her comment as both a profound compliment and an attribution to my status as an emerging writer in my community. Writing is such a natural act for me, I don't often acknowledge the scope of my published work or the volume of work I commit to. It is true, though, if I am not writing an article, I'm writing a poem and if I'm not writing a poem, I'm writing a journal entry, and if I'm not doing that, I'm either thinking or writing about my fiction, making notes, and when I'm not doing any of the above I am either organizing more article ideas, or simply jotting down two lines of morning ghazals with a pen in one hand and mug of tea in the other. It is funny that I don't consider myself to be prolific only because I don't have 10 books under my belt and am not churning out a poem a day. Isn't it strange how we view ourselves in our passions?