2019 was a weird year. I accomplished a lot of things and then had to sit with that terrible feeling you get when you’ve finally done a thing and it’s just…a thing that you did now.  There’s no more fuel in the tank or direction for the ship.  So I’ve spent the last part of the year just trying to rebuild the fire.

I released a lot of new zines: DIY artist retreat, All My Friends and I Want To Talk About Are Autumn Leaves (in paper form) and I Forget Who I Am.

I submitted zero poems or stories for publication.

I started my Patreon with a 30 days of poetry.

I did four writing retreats. On one of them, I holed up in a B&B and submitted something grandiose to Creative Capital, which did not love it enough to move it forward. But I loved it enough to keep thinking on it, and that’s where my Twine game comes in.

Last year I had hopes that I’d found my place as a writer in Albuquerque, but I still have not.  There’s one poetry group I have gone to about every three months, which I quite like.  But the perils of traveling for work include missing things that only happen once a month. Right now I make a habit of hitting up any local book store I can find on my travels–maybe I should hit up a writing group or writing class, as well/instead.

I sold zines at two zine fests (Albuquerque and Santa Fe).

I studied with Natalie Goldberg as well as going to see her speak in person.

I started reading poetry in the mornings when I wake up.

I started listening to the Slowdown podcast, and Imaginary Worlds.

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My 2018, as a writer