This blog is in imminent danger of degenerating into a personal slushfest. Because this entry certainly has nothing to do with poetry, imagination, or fiction, and I am not sure whether it at all fits in with the prevailing philosophy at M-i-V (all fictional stuff and please, no smartypants autobiographical snippets of wisdom, ever! Poetry is not the journal of the poet, remember?) But it’s beginning to sound just like one of
those exact thingies, that comes with a moral at the tale-end.
Last year, I found a local writers' outfit and joined up because
they had a poets' group within a group, immediately hooked. Last year, I also had to reluctantly bow out of a chance to write some sci-fi at the Write…Edit…Publish blogfest as I was travelling. So I scheduled a non-fiction essay in support (which to my utter amazement/delight came in at the second place, thank you WEP and Alex J Cavanaugh!).
