metablog, writing

something about nothing

Once upon a time, I cared more about the sounds of spoken words than about plot, which is central to drama, and comparison, which is central to poetry. I only cared about sound. But this is no longer true. This is who I was, the writer I was. I am no longer that person. As I get older, I seem to get better at action, metaphor, and simile. My writing today is not something my former self would recognize as mine. I would not want to possess it. I would not know it.

We name things and they change under the names. You can just be grateful – I know I am – that this blog isn’t titled TIME TO RHYME.

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