I've been writing lately. Little trickles in the desert sand, not the torrent of true inspiration I'd love to feel. I've gotten three things down on paper. One and a half of them need to be thrown out. I'll put them in the notebook to chew over. Maybe something good can come of them if I turn them over in my hands long enough and wear away some of the stupidity and rough edges. My notebook as a giant rock tumbler, I guess....
One of them came out pretty well. It still needs considerable revision, but the ideas in it don't make me want to pack in my pens and swear off writing for the rest of my life. I need an editor so badly, somebody who I can share this stuff with who can tell me what's crap and with whom I can bounce ideas back and forth until some of these poor broken-winged birds can heal and fly again. I've got some things that aren't terrible, but again, I really need somebody else's eye, somebody I can trust.
Maybe one day I will make it to that meeting of poets in town. I'm not sure that's what I'm looking for, actually, but maybe it's a place to start.
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And then you said.....