February 24: "Used Book," Perpetually Tired, Back in the Saddle

Billy Collins reading a . . .

Used Book

by:  Billy Collins

I turn a page

someone dog-eared,

like the bent ear

of a dog who's still lost.

Yes, I have been absent for quite a while.  I know that.  I'd like to say that I've been putting the finishing touches on a novel or collection of poems (I've been doing a little of the latter).  But that's not the reason.  I could claim sickness, but that's not the reason, either.  Teaching?  Nope.  Planning the Great Lakes Poetry Festival for the library where I work?  A little.  Working as an undercover poet for President Biden writing limericks about his predecessor?  Sounds like fun, but no.

The truth of the matter is that I've been tired.  Perpetually tired.  I usually write these blog posts either very early in the morning (when everyone in my house is still asleep) or very late at night (when everyone in my house has gone to bed).  However, my writing impulses have been running on low battery for the last month or so, and all I want to do is . . . sleep.  And once you fall out of a routine, it's hard to pick it up again.

People don't realize the energy it takes to write.  There are constant distractions--laundry to fold, papers to grade, a book to finish, a movie or TV show to watch.  Being able to set all that aside takes willpower and determination.  (Notice I didn't say "inspiration."  If I always waited to be inspired before I pick up a pen to write, I would never write again.)  Writing is plain hard work.

What have I been doing instead or writing?  Well, I've been rereading some of my favorite books and poetry collections.  Books that I've scribbled marginalia in, dog-eared pages of, and memorized passages from.  Old friends.  Collins compares the bent pages of well-loved books to the bent ear of a lost dog.  We're both saying the same thing--the words and pages of used books are comforting in times of chaos and upheaval and exhaustion.

I'm going to try to get back into the writing saddle.  No guarantees what I produce will be profound or funny or even interesting.  The next post I write may simply be my grocery list or a catalogue of Sharon Olds' books on my bookshelf (there are a lot).  But Rome wasn't built in a day, and runners don't start with marathons.  (Apologies for the clichés.  It's the best I can do at the moment.)

So, this lost dog is back home, and hopefully you will be reading a lot more of the Gospel of Saint Marty in the coming days.