My apologies for being so absent lately. Spring break came and I just forgot to write. Then the next week came and I forgot to write. Also I was feeling both uninspired to blog, and disenchanted with all forms of electronic communication. I still am, but I'm also willing to try and push through it.
Today, I'd like to talk about a different kind of writing- the academic variety. I've had to write several papers for my English class this year and they've all gone rather well. I just picked a story or a poem we've studied that spoke to me in some way and I ran with it. My teacher has read them all to the class (much to my chagrin). But that's exposure, I guess, and since I choose to be a writer, I had better get used to it. Next up is a high-points research paper on poetry. I should be excited about it. Research is not something I've done a lot of and this will be a great opportunity to practice. After all, I will need to do research for my novels now and again, right? But poetry? Really?
Once, when I was much younger than I am today, I loved poetry. I had rhyme, meter, and imagery in my blood. I ate and breathed allusion, symbolism and irony. Not so much now. Now I enjoy a good poem for about ten minutes, max. And I find myself compelled to choose two poems to study, analyze and compare, using literary critiques to support my thoughts. I wouldn't think anything of it if I weren't already so SICK of poetry. I've had enough to last me the rest of the year, but I'm no where near done with it yet. If I ever get the bright idea to take an entire class devoted to poetry, remind me what a bad idea that actually is.
Okay, my venting session is over. Can you, my dear fellow writers, give me some tips on developing some love and inspiration for a topic you are thoroughly unenthused about?