May 31th
On the last day of May, it’s time to share my musings on writing of this past month. After reflecting on my writing process daily for the month of April, I decided to keep writing about it when there was something worth mentioning. Looking back now, I can see that April’s spirit stayed into the first few weeks of May. Then I was hit by a very strong urge to knit that took some of my focus away from writing. As a multi-passionate creative, that is ok. However, over the last week or so I have seen my frustration grow at how difficult it seems to write satisfactory pieces. Even writing this blog post has me stumble over my own feet.
Nevertheless, I am persistent.
Some things to be grateful for in May:

I wrote 9 poems in 31 days.

I now have the category haiku on my blog, because I am starting to like some of my haikus.

I continued to reflect on my writing process, which has led to this blog post. And will have me write monthly reflections, I hope.

I am reminded of my value quality over quantity multiple times.

I have discovered a new way of writing poems. At least for me. Find out more with the poem Filtered.

May 30th
Inspiration struck today, but I was a bit in a poetic funk. By poetic funk I mean a state when I want to write, but the words just won’t come. Over the last couple of days I have also returned to other drafted poems, hoping that I could finish one or the other. I just can’t at the moment. The spark is hiding and I am trying to not get frustrated too much. I have been tired and restless at the same time. A draining combination.

May 28th
I decided the poem from the last few days is finished. The other phrases and words I have collected will be another poem.
With May coming to an end, I am reflecting on what this past month of writing meant and what it has taught me. Just now, I was thinking of the Wild Woman archetype and how I thought that she would make an appearance more often. When I started pebbleriverwritings, I was convinced to write about her more. Eight months later, I have rarely mentioned her. And yet, I have been writing for her and under her guidance the whole time. She made a strong appearance in my life when I needed her. And she helped me reconnect to my female body and my creativity. When the time is right, I will share more.
These days, I rarely think about her. We are both fine with that, because so much of what I express is shaped by her anyways.

May 25th
I kept working on yesterday’s poem. More phrases will be needed to finish it. I have a rough draft put together. And really, there is no rush.

May 24th
I started writing another poem with collected words and phrases. It was sparked by a photo of a lake and a wordplay I found in one of my google docs.

May 21st
Through wordplay I put another poem with collected phrases together. Sparked by the sea and the German word Meer.
That is also the second poem of the day. The first one being a short glimpse into my week. This is a very rare case of two poems a day.

May 17th
Sleep helped sort the poem’s grammar out.
When it comes to poetry, I may get the impression that I have nothing to write about. At times it seems as if I have said everything worth mentioning. And then inspiration strikes. A moment I couldn’t foresee. A memory, a bird, a feeling I had no idea would find me that day. This is how my writing works.
But I am wondering: should I be planning more? Should I look for certain prompts to write about? I have learned the hard way that planning ruins something in my writing. For so long I have been wanting to write a poem about sea urchins, but without the right emotion or inspirational moment, I don’t seem to be able to write it. Should I meditate on it? Ask a question before I go to sleep and hope that a dream will answer? Should I create with urchins and be with them, hoping that they will provide a baseline for my poem?
There are no right or wrong answers, obviously. But I am wondering if I am missing something in my creative process.

May 16th
I continued working on a poem whose verses I played with recently. I got to a point where I could put it on the blog, but the grammar didn’t seem right, twice. I am remembering my value of quality over quantity and leave it alone for now, hoping that I will find better grammar tomorrow.

May 15th
If I were not myself, if I could approach the words with my mind and analytical skills rather than my emotions, I could be a terrific writer. I could be a journalist who pursues her stories and articles with precision and determination. I would get things done in a timely manner. I could handle words objectively and string them together intelligently. These are the attributes I am lacking to be a writer of significance. That’s the story I have been telling myself.

I just did something daring. I googled online bachelor’s degrees in creative writing. And found two that intrigue me. One even has an emphasis on poetry. I am all giddish and antsy. But I am scared, too. There was a time in my teenage years when I wanted to become a journalist. I was writing a lot, contributing to the school’s ‘newspaper’ and doing what I thought would lead me somewhere so that I could turn my writing into a living. Turns out, the more I analyzed my writing, the more I approached the words with my mind, the further they stepped away from me. It led to the point of paralyzation and me not writing at all for a few years. The inner critic convinced me that my writing was rubbish and that I had scared the words away for good.
Would the same happen if I pursued a degree in creative writing now, over one decade later? Whatever I am going to do, I don’t want to fall out of myself again. I never want to pursue anything again that builds a wall between me and my creativity, especially my writing.
They say that there is this one type of fear which is worth pursuing. This is my fear. I want this. But what if it doesn’t want me back? Again?
I am around my ovulation in this cycle and there is a lot of energy flowing through my body.

May 12th
The big sketch pad arrived in the mail yesterday. Now I have all the supplies and tools necessary for this idea that I’ve had. To play with words in a bigger space than the display of my phone while also adding paint and color. Now that I could start, I am anxious to do it. I’m afraid that the words will shy away from me when I approach them in that way. And what if I like certain parts of a picture and dislike the other? Start anew? Cut it up?
I return to a poem I started writing at the beginning of April. It was the day I got my second dose of the COVID vaccine. In order to get it, I drove to Santa Maria and back. The drive up there is scenic, especially in the spring, even after a very dry winter. The green hills that were flying by the windows of our truck reminded me of the green hills I drove through every day on my way to PT school in Germany. It was a time of waking up, of contemplation, of listening to music and singing along loudly. I was commuting with a purpose, I was driving to school with the goal to get a degree. The hills there were so beautiful! I still remember where I would shift in our convertible Audi, back then, and where the sun would make me pull down the sun visor because it was just rising on the horizon.

At the beginning of April, I was yet again driving somewhere, with a purpose. I was on my way to get vaccinated. I was thinking roaming thoughts. And I was singing along loudly to the same songs I listened to back then. The hills were so green that they could have been the hills from the past. I wish I could drive those roads again! And when I looked for a picture to go along with my poem, I couldn’t find any from that place I drove through every day for three years. I took those roads for granted, not knowing that I would miss them so much.
But maybe, it’s not the roads and hills that I am missing but the sense of pursuing a goal and doing my best for it every day.
I returned to that poem on my phone and finished it there. It kept me safe. No need to venture into something new.

May 11th
I learn about Erasure Poetry and am intrigued to try it.

May 9th
I have this notion that I have to know what I am going to write, the whole thing, before I even start. I guess this is what we are told how things are supposed to be done. In my writing, however, I have found that the magic happens when I don’t have an agenda. There can be ideas, certain words and images I want to have there, but truly, my best writing is done when I follow the words’ lead. One word leads to another, and another, leads to a line, leads to yet another word.
Sometimes, I am also surprised to find what wanted to be expressed. Writing is a path of discovery.
I have this other notion that for other writers, novels and prose and essays and poems just present themselves in their entirety to them. But what if they sat down with their work and wove and puzzled words and pieces together until it felt right?
Writers are not only harvesting, but also seeding seeds and growing plants until fruit can be harvested. As readers we only get to eat the apple pie.

May 8th
There is this longing, amongst the many that I have, to combine writing with other creative processes. Imagine a big canvas, or piece of paper or blackboard or even an entire wall of space rather than the confined square inches of my phone and the absence of any tactile or color component. And in that big empty space I could combine words and pigment paints. Add words as I think of them, add colorful shapes, cover phrases no longer necessary. There would be no waste. There would be layers upon layers. I could make the words speak with the aid of the places where the pigments originated from. Wouldn’t that be fantastic?

May 7th
I see my favorite birds and want to write about them. In my mind I collect impressions, words, phrases. But I haven’t written anything yet. Hopefully, I will discover the missing parts once I dive in.

May 6th
I playfully continued writing last night and came to the conclusion that there are, indeed, two different poems in the making. The first poem’s message is so hard to capture. Or maybe it’s just shy. Nevertheless, I was surprised to see another poem emerging.

May 5th
I started writing a poem whose images came to me before falling asleep last night. But I got distracted too much throughout the day. I kept writing other words until I found myself in another poem entirely. That first poem will require quite some work to get finished.
No, it’s not a break, but play I need! I am playing with the words and lines and am writing what comes to mind. There is no rush to produce. No pressure. I just gather the words and ideas I like and will see where that takes me.

May 4th
I need a break from product oriented writing. I need more inspiration outside of my own head and words. April is over and today I am glad it is, because now I can turn towards other aspects of my creativity. It feels a little like after I sewed up a storm in December and January. After that I needed a break from sewing and haven’t really touched the sewing machine since.

May 3rd
As we cradle words of wisdom
we close a chapter and turn a page
It’s time to adorn our crowns with sage

May 1st
I feel drained and hollow
what is left I pour into a poem
the crows are noisy today
I wonder what they have to say