Or really, honestly, are you ever going to finish things?
It’s been apparent lately that I have been on a poetry and prose streak. Well, I say streak, now it’s really all I do. And really (as of right now) it’s all I want to do. I enjoy both forms immensely and seemingly it’s what I work best with.
But with this other things have been ignored. Things such as the Mansion and the Gaucho (the latter though has an end in sight – and can be done with prose and poetry). I suppose what I’m getting at is that now, maybe I am making decisions in regards to my writing and the writer I want to be. The idea of writing a novel is falling (somewhat) by the wayside and it seems I am much more comfortable being a poet/proseist (that’s not a word, is it?). And I am aware of the economic difference between poets and novelists but screw that. I want to write what makes me happy (that sounds so much more selfish than I thought it would.)
Of course that is not to say things won’t change. At some point I may well get the urge to write a novel. But right now and in the foreseeable future it’s going to be poetry and prose flowing from my pen. Which may leave certain things unfinished. And if you like those things I am really sorry. Very much so.
And besides Julio Cortazar already wrote the perfect novel with Hopscotch. Any of my attempts to emulate that would be…well…ummm….guess you can think of the words to put here.
Image found here: http://quarterlyconversation.com/hopscotch-by-julio-cortazar-review