I've written poetry since I was a child, not knowing how important it was to save your work...all I have left is posted here. I have only recently felt the full burn that smoldered deep inside me then, for writing. The burn is like jumping in the ocean for a swim, forgetting the cut on your ankle from shaving that morning. It doesn't hurt at first, but when the salt in the water breaks down that initial layer of scab, it blazes with intense heat.
Writing sucks. Natalie Goldberg says in "Wild Mind" that the first year is the worst, that everything is empty. I promise to keep my pen moving across the paper, breaking through first thoughts into the other worlds that exist within me. I vow to make it through this first year.