Namaste blog tribe

I’ve been formatting Poetry: Volume 3 for the past three hours while Tim is lying on the couch reading Stephen King.

Happy fourth of July Yankees… cop that England.

My third poetry volume is quite shorter than the first two volumes which each rang in at over 100 pages. Considering the last twelve months I’ve had, there’s writing slung everywhere in chunky bits hanging on coat hooks of various genres.

I’ve mentioned before, I write poetry more for survival means rather than, “Hey Publisher, reckon this is pimp-able?”

While my poetry may not be pimp-able, I’m hoping I can somehow sling one of the other genres I roll with. Truth be told, I quite like the technical writing I do to pay rent – but I’m super keen to sink claws into one of the fiction pieces floating around.

In conclusion, this one’s shorter. I wonder what the next twelve months will make of Poetry: Volume 4.

Click. Clack. Click.