Some time ago I mentioned that I undertook a challenge to write a poem every day (weekends off) for as long as I could. I did this because I wanted to improve my ability to choose just the right words, and use them in unexpected ways, in my writing. Since creating poetry is like weight lifting for the writer, causing her to focus on form and the tiniest decisions, I decided it was worth the effort.
Six months later, I’ve written a hundred poems. They are not seasoned or breath-taking. They are attempts. But I’m celebrating, regardless of their merit, because six months ago, I had written all of five poems, and showed them only to my children. There is something to be said for putting one foot in front of the other, of being brave enough to allow oneself simply to be a novice.
This is my celebration.