from the editor's desk

got my red pen out (not really, but that is what comes to mind), and i'm blazing through things that have been on my desktop for months. i consider it a particular privilege that i get to read first drafts of unpublished works by great writers. i'm spoiled for unpublished works now. i glut on them like a hog at feed. what can i say, writers need readers, i'm the lucky sap who gets to read.

when i have time, that is.

i always have to be of a clear mind, with no particular agenda to approach the work of another writer. or i steer clear.

if i'm tired, crabby, pms-ing, forget it.

i just put it off.

and today, as i've poured through forty pages so far, i'm raring to go. this is what the work of editing does to me, it fires me up. gives me more energy.

but it took so long to get here. my semester ended a while ago, i don't know how long, but it feels like forever.

first i had to clean my apartment, and while i could do more, i can always do more, i am content with the current level of disarray.

then, i had to check off all the boxes that needed checking off, the mandatory little piddly crap that just needs to be done. and done in a timely fashion.

i'm still not cooking much, i can cook really good food, but if you piss and moan about it, i just stop cooking. why expend my energies when they are unappreciated? i cook during the day for my girl and let the rest go. it's not a perfect solution, but it is what i've come to. i'm too damn busy to be bitched at.

now, one more--no, two--projects to go, and i'm free for my summer class. i thought of a meaningful last minute addition to my poetry collection. a small notes section on the forms of poetry i employed this semester. while the examples i will include are pedestrian at best, they were a useful exercise. that's all i've got to say about that.

though i've got someone writing pages for me to edit as we speak (though this person has been working on it for about a year now, and has only managed a few pages, so i'm not lying awake pondering the prospect of having fifty pages tomorrow).

that simply won't happen.

and it helps that i've got lots of writer friends, because i've got lots of energy to read and edit.

but time is the issue now. i just don't have time to do it. these will likely be my last projects for a while. i have to focus on school, and the project (a poetry anthology for the poets i retreat to/with) i've commited myself to do this coming semester in addition to my studies.

all very worthwhile endeavors. trouble is, there is only one of me.

peace. out.