"If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little — somebody who is obsessed by Making." E.E. Cummings
E.E. Cummings was born today in 1894. I just read that when he was lecturing at Harvard he would just sit down, instead of standing and lecturing, and read his poems to the students and explain what they meant to him. The students loved him, the other faculty members not so much.
I woke at 5:30 with just a line running through my head, it wouldn't stop even when I told it too and reminded it that it was Sunday morning and I wanted to sleep. I got up at 6:00 and wrote it down, turned it into a flash fiction piece and submitted it. I have to admit it was nice to have my submission done before 7 a.m. I haven't given much direction this month on the submitting process. As a writer every day it's up to you to decide to write, decide to submit, and decide to continue. If you have another job and you don't work for yourself, there is always someone that gives you direction, deadlines and feedback. As a writer you have to do all that for yourself and it can be challenging. How do you keep going everyday without that?
Today, write a poem or a page about the worst boss you ever had. I promise you this can be very cathartic. This is inspired by Boss's Day coming up on October 16th. After working for myself for the past eight years I don't think I could go back to working for someone else.
Read the winner of this year's BAD BOSS CONTEST. Now get back to being your own boss and submit! submit! submit!