I no longer have my computer or the bulk of my writing before May 2010, but I since I started anew in 2011 I have amassed quite a stash of words that will never be published. Since I am a proud workshop junkie, I’ve had the opportunity in the past eight years to generate stacks of bad poems and two manuscript-length works of prose as well. I am hoarding all of this work in the hopes that one day I can repurpose it somehow. Besides fish wrap. 🙂 But it doesn’t matter if any of this work ever sees the light of publication.
It is a major miracle that I’m writing at all, and all of the accumulated failures is the reason why I’m a writer. And my willingness to accumulate more rejections and false starts is why I’ll stay a writer.
I’ve written poetry and prose about literally everything, from (abcederian-style):
chaos (theory) and (grimacing) chairs,
(the month of) December,
justice for joy,
I’m super grateful to the the universe that The Atlas of Reds and Blues is out and being read.