Well, my wonderful son has completed the transformation of my writer’s website, so this blog is no longer essential–though maybe still fun to have around, in case my muse starts acting up again. She’s a sly one…completely unpredictable.
(Please see http://www.patriciasbaker.com for my new WordPress writer’s site.)
My beloved geek son messed up my old writer’s website in the process of trying to give me a new one for Christmas. He also is very busy working full time for the first time in his life, and who am I to mess with that long-anticipated change? So…says he, ‘why not just set up your web info on a blog; it’s easier to add changes to your vita there, anyway.’
So, because he’s busy and I’m techno-challenged, here I am. But, just to give my hypothetical reader something to read, here’s a poem I wrote about an early writers’ critique group experience — enjoy!
i handed out ten copies,
then broke out in coldest sweat;
how could i let them read these words—
i was no poet yet.
i can’t remember what was said
as they critiqued my poem;
but i could’ve kissed that guy who asked
if he could take it home.
© 2006 by Patricia S. Baker
*First printed in Writer’s Journal, (Vol. 27, No. 6, p. 42)