Writing life woes

I feel like I’m not putting in enough writing time these days. I still write my short – ten-minute – poem every morning and a journal entry every night before I go to bed, but I have three started memoirs that I need to work on and finish once and for all.

But all is not grim. I still attend my memoir class every week and read a piece there at least twice a month. I also still write in my writing group the first and third Tuesdays of the month. At the start we’re given a prompt, write for about forty-five minutes, and then read what we’ve written in real time to the group. I have that opportunity this afternoon. As always, it’s very nerve racking.

Here are four recent poems I wrote lately about my current writing life.

Why do I keep at it?
Why am I so obsessed?
I don’t have to write
A poem a day
I don’t have to write
A journal entry every day.
But still I sit down here
And open my computer, pull
Up my ten-minute poem doc
And scroll down
To the end,
Three hundred and
Thirty-two pages later,
And begin to write.
I have over sixty thousand
Words of ten-minute poems
That I started in February 2020
And multitudes of documents
Containing journal entries
I’ve written since
The year two thousand.
Maybe that’s just
Quite enough already.
Well, I’ll think about it
After I finish writing
This little poem now.


Now I know why I write
Why I’m so obsessive
About writing every day.
I’m a writer that’s why
I must write. I must
Keep at it
To always create
To make words
That are heartfelt
And beautiful.
Every day I have
A life experience
That I must
Personally relate.
If I don’t
The events of my life
Will go to waste.
That’s all there is to it.

My writing life
Is waning to the
Point of almost
No writing.
I’ve got to get
Back into it.
Sure I write
A silly poem
Everyday and
My end of the day
Journal entry.
I couldn’t go on
Without those two
But they really don’t
Mean anything special.
They are just
Little exercises.
I need to write
Something with meat.


I’ve been reading
Some of my old writing
Some I like, some
Not so much.
But what’s good is
I’m still doing it
Putting my ass
In the chair
And my fingers
On the keyboard
And creating something
Every single day.
Like right now
While I sit at my desk.
This is just
A silly poem
But it surely
Gets my point across.


  1. Joyce Goldberg says

    I love your writing, and I hope it makes you happy to know your words have made me happy.

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