... and now I can't find the poem that I wrote for mi suegra, for her memorial. And it's not like the poem was even any good, but it had everything that needed to be said, and the service is this weekend and I can't find it and I can't rewrite it because I know it will never be as good as the first draft, that I should have so that I could edit it, and I feel like I'm frozen, stuck, wading through molasses. It's been this way all my life with my writing, whenever I've tried to write anything, it all gets ... stuck.
No comments:
Post a Comment