Scheduling Inspiration

If you have been following along, you already know I am a scattered, head-in-the-clouds, procrastinate to the last minute sort of person. Half my thoughts are  in the land of make-believe at any given moment, on any given day. I’m not sure if I am this way because I am creative, or if I am creative because I am this way. It’s a chicken or the egg issue that I don’t bother trying to figure out, I’ve always just gone with it (much to the frustration of many teachers throughout the years).

I (along with my wonderfully supportive husband) decided fairly recently that I am going to focus on writing professionally. It is a dream come true for me, and could only be made more perfect by any small measure of financial success. I take my dream very seriously, and I have dedicated a great deal of my time to achieving this success.

In making writing my career I have tried to combat my scattered personality by follow a schedule, challenging myself with writing exercises, and attending several writing groups. One of my writing groups led to being part of a published collection of poems (A Tapestry of Verse)and I am still going strong with my personal poetry challenge (read about it here on the first day of my challenge,  and the several posts that follow), though there have been some hiccups. The one thing I am struggling with most, and the thing that seems to be more of a hindrance than help, is following a schedule. I really gave it a go, trying to set times to be creative, and trying to have a daily schedule that is consistent. But the more I tried to schedule time to be creative, the less I seemed to accomplish.

Enter one of my closest friends. I was talking to her about the creative dry spells I’ve had lately. The subject of my schedule came up. She asked why I would try to keep to a schedule at all. Isn’t that why I’m not working a traditional job, so that I have loads of free time? She knows me and my personality better than most people, and she pointed out that its unlikely that I would be able to be myself and come up with anything uniquely me while trying to fit into a traditional schedule.

She laughed at me for even trying. I thought about it, and she really has a point. The whole reason I am not working anymore is so that I can make writing my career. Keeping on track is important, but not if I am boxing myself in. There is no specific time of day inspiration strikes. What was I thinking? So from now on I write when the mood strikes me. And if my dishes have to wait till morning, well they can wait.



On a side note, one of my writer group friends posted this to my Facebook  wall and I just love it. I felt you could all benefit from the message too.


How I Met Your Mother in Review

SPOILER ALERT: If you have not watched the last season of How I Met Your Mother through to the end, then you do not want to read this until you have. Go on. Go away, and come back when you finished watching.





Okay, now that you have watched it through to the end I can discuss the story line of the final episodes with you.

I believe that the writers of How I Met Your Mother made a huge mistake with the final episodes. To be fair, this is the opinion of someone who has never written a screenplay, and I certainly never managed to score millions of fans. And in the interest of fairness, the writers managed to keep me engaged and loyal for 9 long years. I wept with Marshal and Lily when Lily ran off to San Francisco. I laughed when Ted stole that horrible blue French horn for Robyn. I was sad when Robyn and Barney broke up, and then again when Robyn didn’t leave her shrink boyfriend.  I felt joy when Barney proposed to Robyn, and I loved that their wedding day was the day that Ted finally met his children’s beautiful mother.

The writers did their job in that I learned to love each of the characters they introduced. They kept me on the edge of my seat hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl with the yellow umbrella. I marathon watched the final season dying to see that iconic moment we have been waiting for these past 9 seasons.

And then the writers went and pooped all over it.

In the final episodes  barney and Robyn (you know, the couple we spent the entire season hoping to see get married) end up divorced after just 3 short years together. Robyn chooses her career consistently over her marriage, and Barney is obviously very unhappy. Barney goes back to being a certifiable man-whore, negating all of the personal growth I had become emotionally invested in. I honestly think it would have been better if the writers had just led us to believe they had gotten divorced (rather than showing us the heartbreaking moment) and that they remained friends. Maybe Barney could have retained at least a shred of the human decency that we had witnessed him develop over the past few years. While he did end up with a daughter who is the love of his life, the writers seem to have forgotten how much Barney loves babies when Barney freaks out and tries not to claim his daughter. I disliked how the end of Barney’s story left him only a few steps away from where he began. I found I didn’t like him at all by the time his story was done.

Robyn also disappointed me. She goes MIA on the important moments with her friends, and pretty much dumps a very pregnant and ridiculously dressed Lily. She embodies the cliché of a friend who goes off to get famous and forgets the people who were there for her when she wasn’t.

But all that aside, at least the story ended where it should have with the rest of the bunch. I mean, Lily and Marshall are together forever, and have wonderful children who mean the world to them. And ted and his wife…

Oh wait, he didn’t bother to marry her for seven years after they started having kids?! When he finally does, it’s a hasty, half-assed, next-Thursday-if-you-have-time affair. Then, we discover that she gets sick and dies. To me, this cheapened the entire 9 year journey. The whole thing was supposed to be a goofy, funny, drawn out love story. The show is even titled, “How I Met Your Mother”. But in the end, the kids mother was not the point at all.

No, Ted is asking his children permission to date their Aunt Robyn. You know, the woman who broke Ted’s heart on multiple occasions. The woman who doesn’t want the same things from life as Ted. The woman who sabotaged her marriage to a man who adored her enough to change his personality. The woman who dumped her best friends. The woman who Ted let go of by giving the locket to Barney. Her?

What was the point? Ted ended up being that same guy hung up on the girl who is all wrong for him. Robyn is still that selfish girl who refuses to do anything that doesn’t work for her. Barney ends up a dad, okay fine. But he reverted for a while, and I hate that he didn’t try to make it work with a woman he supposedly loved. The only people I liked at the end of the final season were Marshal and Lily. The season finale made me sorry I watched any of it at all.

I get that the writers had to do something drastic to surprise us. After all, we spent 9 years expecting to hear the happy end to a long love story. It was a twist. I’ll give them credit where credit is due, I did not predict the ending. But still, It sucks that my favorite television series since friends left me sad and angry with no hope of recovery.

Oh and by the way, they could have at least explained the pineapple. Just sayin’.

Personal Poetry Challenge Check In

*For those of you just tuning in, I have challenged myself to write 150 poems in 90 days, the result of which I intend to publish.


I keep falling behind on my challenge, despairing that I have set an impossible goal.  I start counting how many poems I am behind, freak out, and then produce some of my best work to date- catching up all at once.

So if the challenge was measured day to day, I would totally fail. I’m supposed to write 1.66 poems a day. But alas, I set the challenge end at 90 days, so I don’t have to be measured until December 12th. If you add up all my completed poems to date, I am right on track (never-you-mind the fact that 8 of them were written today). Yay for me! If I didn’t keep blabbing on my blog about falling behind, nobody would ever know I am anything but blindingly awesome.

I’d rather you know the truth. I am a procrastinating over-achiever. You figure that one out.


So as a treat for following along with my crazy challenge, here is my attempt at a Haiku-yes it totally counts as a poem. I looked it up. No, not all of the poems I completed are Haiku. Most are about a page long, and a few are two pages. One is even three and a half.

Hope you enjoy my style, I will check back in when I have something worth saying.


Unicorn Haiku

Unicorns are great.

Raise them from tiny babies.

Delicious in stew.





Keeping At It

Here we are, 6 days into my personal poetry challenge. When I first decided to create a book of 150 poems in 90 days, I thought easy as pie. I’m always writing something. I’ve totally got this!

But around day 3, I realized what a big commitment writing 1.66 poems a day is. Seems like nothing, but miss a day and you fall behind. First of all, being a writer is not my only responsibility. I have family that needs help sometimes, friends that want to hang out, and a household to maintain-not to mention I just moved, so I need to unpack. Plus there are about 6 different series that have posted new seasons to Netflix.

When day three came and went I only had 4 poems complete. My personal challenge was starting to look like an actual test of my will power and skill. I know I set this challenge for myself, and there is no penalty if I fail; however, I was serious when I made this plan. I intend to see it through.

Last night into early this morning (day 5) I had  some quite time. My husband and dog were sleeping, my friends and family rested in their own homes, and it was too late to be making noise. While I had this blessed worry free time, I sat down and really focused. Hours later -and well after my bedtime, I had completed 6 poems, bringing my total to 10- right about where I should be 5 days into the challenge.

I realize now that I have given myself a lofty goal, but you can be my witness: I will keep at it till the end.

Sneak Peak

Tilted Tales (my personal challenge to complete 150 poems in 90 days, to be published when complete)  is coming along nicely, and received some lovely feedback from my writers groups. There were a few skeptics- but not everyone likes fantasy, and even more do not like my odd sense of dark humor. But, as proof I am working, I offer a sneak peak at a piece that will make it into the book.


Precious Beastie


Starlight dots brush midnight sky

where winged creatures freely fly.

For he who dare not risk the day

darkness lends to covered play.

Far from prying eyes of men

enchanted trees surround the glen.

It’s there where nests the magic beast.

The fragile egg not woodland feast,

but celebrated more than gold;

the beastie’s life worth price untold.

A single hair can cure all ails

even when physician fails.

A feather may great fortune bring,

while peace fills those who hear it sing.

Born only once each hundred years

to turn the wheel of living gears.

Magic flows within its heart

and grows again from beastie’s start.

There magic life begins anew,

a gift that’s earned by noble few.

To those who’d hunt it be forewarned:

fate will see your whole line scorned.

‘Tis best when likes of men stay clear

from precious beastie oh so dear.