I need 27 tanka and 13 Haibun/Tanka Prose to send off before the end of the month. It seems like a lot, but to be honest, I have a few tanka done and even if I didn’t I can easily knock two dozen off in a couple of days. They won’t be my best work but if I’m honest, I could spend a lifetime writing 24 poems and still not feel they were good enough. Do them, move on, learn, improve.
The Haibun and Tanka Prose, look like more of a problem, though I do actually have about 23 that are complete or nearly complete when I count them up. Again, it’s that old story – I can mess with them for years without them seeming good enough, so I may as well just send them as soon as they seem acceptable. I hope that if I keep writing I will eventually learn to write better.
Next month I need 3 Haibun and 3 Tanka Prose. That will be easy as most editors ask for up to three then return two. I can almost guarantee that if I send the rejects out some will be accepted.
Talking of working on Haibun for years, there are several that have been knocking about for a couple of years now, including some that I’ve never sent out. The truth is that no matter how much you improve the writing, some of the subjects are so dull or so convoluted that they just don’t work. I will have Spring Clean next month and send them into storage.
There is a variety in this lot – ducks (one of my favourite subjects), insomnia, age, family stories, religion, funerals, pigs, wheelbarrows, prostate problems . . .
My life is a rich seam of inspiration, though it’s fair to say that my mind does not inhabit the higher planes of human existence.
As for the rest of the day, I slept badly and woke up feeling tired. However, it is Sunday, so I turned over, ignored Julia’s suggestion that I might like to get up and make her breakfast, and woke two hours later with a bad back.
Yes, I too believe that sleep was cursed by my cavalier disregard for my wife’s feelings regarding breakfast.
Unfortunately, one thing goes wrong and everything else follows. I dressed slowly, got my feet stuck in my trousers and struggled to get my slipper socks on. If you put them on before your trousers they get caught, if you put them on after it can be tricky bending your knees enough to reach. And if you don’t put them on, your feet get cold.
It’s not been too bad since then, though the decision to watch Supervized proved to be a bad one. It’s a film with a good central concept, a generally mediocre cast (though I always like to see Clive Russell, and a poor script.
We are having pork and roast veg for tea, and Julia has just walked past with it, so if you will excuse me, I need to go . . .
(It was very good, so good that I ate, watched the Pottery Throw-Down and forgot to post this until I woke, still asleep in my chair.)
Orange Parker Pen
