After reading Alison Bechdel's absolutely terrific graphic-novel/memoir Fun Home, I am thinking a lot about the ways in which writers take risks. Bechdel takes just about every risk in the book (as it were) with Fun Home, and is being pretty thoroughly rewarded in sales & critical acclaim. (Which, for those of us who have been following her work for many years via the fabulous comic Dykes To Watch Out For, is both gratifying and a bit surreal.)
I want to ask my poems what risks they take, what risks they are willing to take. I want them to risk their wordy little lives for me.
In return, I need to lay it all on the line for them. I need to be willing.
I know I'm doing the work I need to be doing when every now and then I scare the crap out of myself or kind of feel like throwing up. (Thinking about applying to MFA programs makes me kind of feel like throwing up, too. Y'all should consider buying stock in anti-emetics.)
I haven't really been writing since getting back to Indiana. Break's over now, I think. The Muse is coming and I better look busy.