Write, Write, Write

A while back I posted that I was going to attend and participate a Cowboy Poetry contest. It didn't happen. I recited my poem until I knew it by heart. My heart pounded everytime I thought of standing in front of all those people and putting myself on the line. What was it going to feel like, rejection, I mean? Would it be painful? Well, LeRoy saved me from finding out.

He went to a sale and along with the treasures he bought, he caught a bad cold which he unselfishly shared with me. That was over a week ago and I'm just now beginning to heal. The contest was last Saturday night. I was coughing, sneezing and had a sore throat. I couldn't do what someone did to LeRoy and countless others by attending and spreading my cold. LeRoy and I even missed our family reunion the next day. We never miss our family reunion. Maybe next year.

I will continue to write, write, write and do what I can to learn. I will even look at photos of strange men and make up stories about them when pressed into it. I will continue to write poetry, because I don't know how. And I will keep a tight rein on "him" (the critic in my head) and only listen to him when I want his opinion.