Writing Something On A Particular Day

I'm going to be stating a few obvious things that don't really need to be stated. But some days, like today, I start thinking like this. I'm lightheaded today, almost faint. I don't know what's going on. But if it goes on for more than one day, like a week, I'll get it checked out.

Everything that I write is written on a particular day. That's one thing. And this goes for other folks as well. Some things of course are written over a lengthier period of time. Like a novel might be written over a week, a month, a year, or longer. But each paragraph, each word, was written on a particular day.

This little post, which will disappear as soon as I hit the "Publish Post" button, was written (is being written) this day, Feb. 12, 2010. (Hey, that's Abraham Lincoln's birthday. And since we had his 200th birthday last year, this must be his 201st.)

I have lots of other little posts. Occasionally I see them, like if I'm searching for a link to something to wrote one time, and I'll see when it was written. Like Aug. 4, 2008, just to take a random date from the fairly recent past. I don't know that I wrote anything that day, maybe I didn't. But let's say I did. Right now, without looking somewhere where it might be written, I don't remember what was going on that day. Just like I'm likely to forget today.

So not remembering a day, I'm not 100% on what my mood was that day, etc.

We're all in the same boat. Mark Twain, William Faulkner, all us famous authors. We write what we write on a particular day, and it gets read sometime later -- especially in the case of authors before the internet.

I think John Keats died when he was 25. So everything he wrote -- and I mean everything -- was written before his 26th birthday and before he died.

A Punctuation Test

Here's an interesting punctuation test.

I missed two.

I guess I'm fairly good at commas, quotation marks, parentheses, and the other stuff. But not perfect, obviously.

I should've done better. Because I've always been very punctual.

The Moss Of Imagination

I wish I could get the moss I had when I first got up today. My mind was running fast, flying over fields of thought. Very manic and fun.

The thing about thought. It has to do with your rest, your dreams, and whatever other place moods come from. At those times, bottle it!

By the time of lunch, then certainly after you have the food and that languor of digestion going on, you feel like everything's slowed down.

This is one reason I should be eating a light salad for lunch. Get that discipline.

I love a good crouton.

How to Write a Great Poem...Maybe

Here's point by point how to do it.

It's kind of like Mad Libs, only you have to fill in everything.

20 steps that starts with 1) Begin the poem with a metaphor, and ends with 20) Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that "echoes" an image from earlier in the poem. Check out the link for the points in the middle!