At this moment the reality of having the book I’ve been working on since three years ago done by the end of summer is really not going to happen. Unless I just put all the poetry in the past couple of years and make a book of poetry. But really who reads let alone buys poetry in this day and age. I don’t even buy poetry so it would be so hypocritical for me to think that my words would be worth to sell. These characters are as real to me as my own family, and I do not feel like I would be giving them justice if I rush and have a ending that doesn’t seem right. So here I am, with a Russian doctor and lost artist, a broken-hearted boy and a crumbling relationship between a manic depressive girl and a boy.
Its all in pen and paper too, just scribbles of a very angst and emotional writer. I kid, I kid.
-Jackie Joy
Sunday, July 18, 2010
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