day two

of April, and I've kept my schedules: over 250 words, 3 script pages, and a poem today. Well, by now, yesterday; I might try and get my stuff for today done before bed, but . . . oh, hey, when did it get to be 0200? Hmm. In that case, maybe not.


I'm very much enjoying an excuse to write poetry again; it's been too long since I last indulged in verse. Well, since February, but even songwriting is different than just setting forth on a free-verse poem. I'm using the prompts from the instapoems blog (though there isn't one for the tenth of April; hmmm) often combined either with a word from a random word generator or a random picture on Flickr. This gives me interesting and unconventional inspiration, such as yesterday's poem, the prompt for which was spider, and the picture turned out to be the underside of a dock with tall wooden legs. Perfection.

My script is progressing better than I thought; on a whim, I just changed from what would have been a boring scene to an exciting confrontation. Or at least, the buildup for one; I get to write the confrontation tomorrow. I'm at 14 pages text, and 39 to draw; I'm both excited for and dreading the end of April, because I'm taking May to try and draw at least a page a day (preferably more, with as many as I'll have by the end).

I also nearly broke my back working in my garden--shoveling out a place for a path--and was on a local AM radio station talking (and singing a few things) with part of my filk group. And then I rescued worms from the rainy sidewalk and put them under my newly-covered garden. And then I was very very happy that I'd covered my garden, because despite the fact that it was 70 degrees and disgustingly sunny yesterday, it snowed. A big soggy eight inches, and still snowing, last I checked. Ah, Utah weather. Hopefully my lettuce seeds are safe.

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Listening to: The Tower by Vienna Teng. I'm tired of being the tower; you know something is wrong when I'm the stable one.