Oliver Cromwell – Leader of Men. Well, Leader of Some Men. For the sake of historical accuracy, I should point out that other opinions on Cromwell are available.
I don’t really have much to say that I (a) haven’t already sad or (b) want to share. Life is much the same as it was last week, last month and even last year. I’m in a writing slump, not because I’m blocked, but because I can’t really be bothered to write anything. It’s just taken me three days to finish off an article that I should have done in less than a day. I just get bored and start doing something else. Then I go and watch TV, eat, nap, wake up, and repeat.
It’s a new month so I have to start submitting more poetry. I have plenty to submit, so it isn’t a problem, but as all editors have different requirements it can be time consuming to get everything set out correctly. As one journal has just changed its requirements for the third time in six months, this is getting quite tedious and irritating. I can see why different editors like to have things presented in particular ways, I can even see that they want to change them (even if it is more difficult for me), but changing regularly is a pain. Even worse, several editors have changed things and in doing so have caused me to miss submission windows.
Captain James Cook – Whitby. He discovered lots of places, much to the surprise of the people already living there, who hadn’t realised they had been lost.
It’s been quite a flat year and I haven’t really advanced. I’m still plodding away writing average poems. Every time I think I have written something a bit better than usual I am quickly informed otherwise by editors.
Sadly, this is a thought I often have at this time of year, so I refer you back to my opening paragraph and will leave you. I’m hoping, as so many times, that a good night’s sleep will solve the problem, but I rarely have a good night’s sleep, so it’s unlikely.
One night I hope I will have sufficiently disordered sleep to inspire me into writing a poem of beguiling strangeness. Until that happens I will just keep writing about insomnia, worry and the inadequacy of an ageing bladder.
If I can’t get a good night’s sleep, I can at least eat a nourishing, high-fibre breakfast