Throughout the process of getting The White Stairs ready to publish (and publishing it, etc), I've continued my 2015 resolution of writing at least one poem every day. I've fallen a bit behind, but I always catch up, so that on any given day, I don't owe more than a few poems to myself. It began as an exercise to keep myself writing, to get into a habit, and to expand my poetry base. Today is day 166 of the year, and since I've yet to write today's poem, I have completed at least 165 poems this year. 

They're not all gems. Some are limericks, haiku, other short forms that don't have names. I have a few I'm very proud of, and I have many that will never be read by anybody but me (until I die, at which point Hyperform has been charged with publishing everything, even the crap, because I'm dead, so what do I care?). Generally I see potential in one out of every seven or eight. 

This dedication is usually good. Hell, I have almost 200 poems from this year alone. But I don't write just poems, and don't want to write just poems. Poetry is, for what it's worth, what I do best. Besides sleeping. I'm excellent at sleeping. 

So there are times when I want to set aside the poetry and write more of my sci-fi thing that doesn't know what kind of thing it is, or my fanfic (shut up; my writing, my choice), or filling in the holes of that unfinished novel. But I don't. Still--poetry. This year, at least. And hey, I got a book out of it already. Must be doing something right.