I have dreamed of a day, for quite some time, where I’d end up not having time to blog because brain became too busy producing something to be properly proud of. Don’t get me wrong, the blogging serves a very useful function: daily dose of application which keeps brain on the rails and body sated via the release of dopamine. However, there’s always been a wish that eventually, there might be content good enough to throw at the World for consumption. This week, it has finally begun to happen.

There’s a couple of interesting Poetry mentorships up for grabs at present, both of which have a late July deadline and require a three-poem ‘sampler’ from prospective applicants. That means at least six pieces, to a standard that reflects the development I’ve made so far. Over the last two days there’s been a re-writing of an English standard, my reaction to ASD, masturbation, the Internet, bisexuality and internet stalking all used as basis for a raft of work that reflects what I am far more truthfully than anything else thus far written. Looking at the pile to my right, five are in primary editing phase already.

It is as if my brain’s just been waiting for the moment to disgorge all this stuff at once.

The title of my poetry book, should it be required, is taken from a Father John Misty song which I discovered back in February. To give you an idea of subconscious turnaround times, it has taken that long for the poem spawned by that song to come out of my head and onto the page, but now it has I am immensely pleased with the results. It’s a realisation that with the right stimulus and enough space for my brain to distil, there’s the real possibility that I can become more than a competent poet. I can be political, and honest, but most importantly true to myself.

Now, it’s a case of editing everything and doing the covering letters to match. Those are easy, it’s the poems that were the problem, but now the measure of my mind is marked, the worry is beginning to slip away.

I can actually do this.

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