Although I have not recently been writing this blog per yesterday’s post, I was still writing little bits and pieces here and there. I recently received notification that one of my poems is being published in a book. Here’s proof.

It really is no big deal. People put together these anthologies all the time. They need lots of authors to include so they will all buy the book upon publication. That’s at least one sale per author, but likely more. Yes, I bought a copy for my middle daughter for whom the poem’s about. I know, sucker, right?

But this is why it is sort of a big deal to me.

I don’t consider myself a good poet. Not at all. I even wrote a poem about how difficult it is for me to write a poem. But this one was different. It flowed organically onto my laptop. Sure, I pecked and poked at it after it was written, but the bones of it were easy and natural for me to write.

The prompt was to write about an experience that changed me or my life for the better. I wrote about adopting our middle daughter. Hers was the second of our three adoptions. Like I stated, the words just flowed onto my screen.

Click HERE to read my poem.

I was pleased when I received word that they chose my poem for publication in an anthology, but I am also pragmatic about it. They need a lot of stories or poems to fill an anthology. I think I am one of about sixty chosen for publication. The more they choose to publish, the more copies they are likely to sell. Yes, I’ll probably be a sucker and buy one for my daughter. Still, it’s nicer to get an invite to a party with the cool kids than not. I’m grateful. I wonder what I should bring. Oh, right, it’s a metaphorical party.

Anyway, my takeaway from this experience is not to force writing. If I do, the result may be a hot mess like my first attempt at a recent micro-fiction prompt. My writing needs to flow like urine from a baby without a diaper on rather than a sad dribble from an old man at a urinal – not to be confused with this sad drivel I used to conclude this post.