Fueled by a bit of inspiration and a couple shot of tequila, I finished my latest draft. That’s the second one I’ve completed in the past four weeks. And yes, if feels good. Apparently, I was much closer to the finish line than I thought in my last update. 
I’m also still working my way through Leaves of Grass and a collection of horror/weird fiction short stories I stumbled across online. Reading a little of both each day is an odd juxtaposition. On one page beautiful verse honoring the early U.S, the potential of a young, wild country, and on the other page are zombies. No wonder I’ve been having weirder dreams lately.
The latest draft turned out well. I’m happy with it. It ended sort of like how I originally envisioned it, but as always, the story led the way and veered off the path a bit. It worked out, tough. Now it gets filed away for a few weeks until I can look at it with fresh eyes.
One other thing, I want to share one of the poems I read the other day. It’s one of my favorites of Whitman’s, a sort of challenge to future poets (writers). Seems appropriate at the moment.
Poets to Come
Poets to come! orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for,
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than
before known,
Arouse! for you must justify me.
I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future,
I but advance a moment only to wheel and hurry back in the
darkness.
I am a man who, sauntering along without fully stopping, turns a
casual look upon you and then averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define it,
Expecting the main things from you.
Hope this inspires you, as well.
RB