Some folks love “chicken or the egg” questions where the answer is the question again. I’m OK with it. Circular is good. Life is circular, as is many an argument. Like the tree falling in the woods. Sound or no? I say yes because no presumes that humans (who must be near enough to hear it) are the important players on the scene, and I don’t think they are. If a daydreaming chipmunk jumps a country mile, voilà. I rest my case.
Why am I orbiting this subject? Because I’m thinking of another conundrum: What’s worse for a poet with writer’s block — writing bad poetry or writing nothing at all (i.e. “blank verse”)?
I lean toward writing something that’s clearly bad, but then I recall all the clichés about writing: If you consider yourself a writer, you must write everyday. Without fail. Or else you are a fraud. And a person. Who writes. Fragments.
So maybe garbage is better than nothing. But what do you write about if you are not inspired? I have a pile of books waiting to go into a library sale, so I decided to pick one word from each title. My prompt: Write a free (cause no one will buy it) verse poem that includes all of these words somewhere in its body:
Ivanhoe (Scottish for “You’re stepping on my foot!”)
Next time, the result. I wouldn’t hold my breath or favorite this site or anything. And I’m sorry you have to wait, but this is it — I’ve written and thus can draw an X in the calendar box for today. I’m a writer again! (And you thought Cheap Trick was a rock band.)