But thanks to the commitment I'd made to the write-a-thon, I finally figured out that some notes I'd made for a short story were really for a narrative poem, so last night I pushed through and made myself finish a first draft. (My commitment for the w-a-t is 2 submissions + 1 draft each week.)
I'm really grateful for the w-a-t, because otherwise I would have slept instead, which would have felt briefly rewarding, but nowhere near as rewarding as actually completing something I hadn't expected to. Who knew I wanted to write a fairy tale in the voice of Mother Death? That's weird.
But now I have a new poem. Here's the first stanza (first draft, remember please):
Owl-light
The owl's voice buffets the night with its tumbling roll
and the emptiness between. It sends its call out for me:
red rover red rover, I call him over.
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I'm not sure I can bear to do this each week--I guess it depends on the draft--but sponsors and cheerleaders got to see the whole poem.
