"To hold a pen is to be at war" (Voltaire).

My goal was to have the book done by this date. I stayed up until 2 a.m. and got it done Monday night / Tuesday morning. Tuesday I was out of it, of course, but drove to Toledo to pick up Gram. She spent a week with my cousins there. Tuesday night Joe and I went out, which was good because I was just pissy. Stayed pissy for two days. Wednesday was a wash. Yesterday Dad and I raked hay and hopefully we can bale today. It’s supposed to rain after noon, one o’clock.

I get to be a farm woman on my own for the next few weeks, with Dad off to Oregon. If he comes back and we have a puppy, it’s not my fault. J

I started Dalva by Jim Harrison. So far I’m a hundred pages in. Good book. Well-written. The only thing I’ve never liked about literary fiction is I never know who the hell is who and related to who or how until the end of the book. I guess that’s why I write fantasy. I also read Walter Mosley’s This Year You Write Your Novel. Really inspired me, especially the part about how you know you’re done editing and this is the best book you can write with what you have at the time. I gotta admit, the last few days I’ve been frustrated enough that I thought about scraping the version of Taylor that I have and starting all over.

I just got my first cup of coffee and I’m sitting here in the kitchen with the cool air seeping around the edges of the blanket I have around my legs. The air tickles my bare feet. Zip just got in Dad’s chair. It’s too early for him to be very active.

I’m still reading Contemporary American Poetry. The poets I like from it include: Shirley Geok-lin Lim, Ellen Bryant Voigt, Michael Palmer, Joy Harjo, Kim Addonizio, Louise Gliick, Sharon Olds, Gladys Cardiff, Billy Collins, Ted Kooser, Susan Howe, Lucille Clifton, (wow, I had no idea I’d folded this many pages down, and Charles Bukowski. There’s others that I like, but Dad just got home and I haven’t had coffee yet so… yeah.