Drawn Out June 7, 2008
Posted by vsap in Poetry, Uncategorized.trackback
There are stories then there are facts
and sometimes the facts of a story are true
and the fiction is brought in to change names
or alter the truth to fit a slot, usually of time,
so the compactness will draw a crowd.
Write a nine-hundred-page book and it lands
on the discount shelves or worse, if that.
Write a ninety-page book and stock runs out
for the clamoring answer-starved masses
like crack addicts looking for a quick score.
I stopped writing books since I can’t out-guess
the audience or the critics or agents, to be sure.
But I can’t stop writing so here it is, and now
there’s a blessing in the activity even if I have only
the stack of rejection slips to show for the effort.
I should feel bad, I guess, disappointed beyond hope,
but I keep at it like an architect possessed, like
Dali at the easel, except for the lack of accolades.
I figure I can sell direct to Wal-Mart, no small feat
from what I’ve read in Inc. and others but I like a
challenge that draws blood to the head and
strikes fear to the soul.
So I concentrate on the writing, not the agent
I never had, not the contests I haven’t won,
not the legacy that will be a lonely blog, if that.
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