How About 29 Hours?

I’ve been sitting on a nearly finished poetry manuscript for over a month now and I’m finding it difficult to dredge up the time to finish it. The days have been very busy lately, which is great because I enjoy being a busy beaver, but I miss that creative time. For some, it’s like a daily vacation away from routine and obligations, which in a sense is what makes writing so therapeutic. Blogging helps to fulfill that need in many ways, but I’m not a fan of sitting on nearly finished works that are crying out for attention. I hope that a fragment of this week will clear just enough to finish and get the new book out there, or that I come home from work this evening to see that the duration of a single day has suddenly grown to 29 hours, as opposed to the regular humdrum and finite 24.

Looking for new reads?

Poetry about Strange Cars or maybe a fictional novel journal about a Dioramist protagonist who struggles with a passion for writing and a former love? Be sure to check out my published wares on Amazon if you’re interested.

Also, be sure to find me on Instagram @ blankpagesofmine and say hello!

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