Or how to read while writing or write while reading.

While I was reading a memoir by Brian Turner, “My Life as a Foreign Country”, suddenly I have to write this blog. This always happens when I’m in the middle of reading, an urge to write about something that I’m working. Prior to this I was reading Julia Bouwsma’s, poem collections, “Work By Bloodlight”, then I have to go back and write for my essays there was that trigger of an idea.

My crosstitch project is at the right hand side of a table which I go to from time to time, this iPad in front of me, four books on my left, three are for reading while one is an exercise book for writing. In the iPad are three short essays I am attempting to compose for submission. Upstairs in my work area, two more books half read, waiting to be read. After dinner tonight all these books will go inside a cabinet by the kitchen made available after complaining that there is nothing here downstairs for storage of my things. Then when tomorrow comes all of them will come back lie down in the dining room table or the sun room table.

My partner suggest that the bookcase be moved downstairs from upstairs, thinking this would help me get organized. I don’t know I said. Things are working pleasantly for me the way it is. I whispered to myself, which may oppose his super neat character. There is creativity in being unorganized. Until something new and unique comes out. A thought or idea will aspire to show up out of nothing where least expected to. I think all these books talk to each other, then instruct me what to write. I have to let them stay together on the table in front of me, along with my iPad. I think there is a Bluetooth, that unseen wireless connection that’s helping me write

<a href=””>Parlay</a&gt;


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