Frustration

It gets very frustrating when poems sink too quickly and when no one even bothers to read your work. I pride myself in completing my weekend's accomplishments on Friday night leaving myself free for the rest of the long holiday. It hurts, though, that acknowledgment doesn't happen. I firmly believe that is one of the reasons we write.

I heard Austin running around today. Apparently, he and Mike were back for a bit. They still haven't said goodbye. It felt good knowing Austin was here, though.

I haven't heard back from half drunken muse. I checked, though, and they haven't published a new edition of their ezine either. There's still hope. Pic of the Week has been put on hold. Because I knew this, I was in no hurry to complete this week's contribution. I finally did that last night. I've had all of one read there. The challenge was fun, but was much too easy. Feel free to take a look at Contraptions.

I got my edits done on Daydreams. It feels good to get some usable feedback. That idea of reciprocity is sorely lacking most of the time. I think that we have to set our own goals and gain satisfaction by our own measures. Some days, this is the only sense of accomplishment that we have.