diary entry

So I’m thinking of a man who goes to work and comes home and pretends he is a bird in a neighboring forest. It’s kind of thoreauvian and quarky. He is somewhat schizophrenic, in that he leaves food out for himself. He is both the man in the house who feeds the birds in the morning, and the bird who eats the food in the afternoon. He has a nest in a nearby forest and everything. Anyway. I think the story is about trying to connect to God and nature and to do what Thoreau did, but in a modern context. 

Perhaps the man likes twitter and is just obsessed with birds. 


I think that I need to re-write the cover letter to the inscape journal, but I don’t think it’s really going to make that much of a difference. It probably just an effort to cover up my insecurities with my poems. They really are terrible. But one day they will get better.

So here it goes:


    I remember hearing about the stability that a job as a professor has, while enrolled in the Future Scholars program here at BYU: staying in the same place, with a good job, the rest of my life. That sounds like a dream come true, after moving over 20 times before I had even turned 20. Alot has happened since then, and more will happen before I apply for an MFA next year. 

    Inscape, I feel, is an important step in becoming part of a community and a continual conversation that surrounds the creative writing field: to be able to talk about poetry often, with peers, outside of class. It reminds me of my time at Jolly Fish Press. It wasn’t just the reading of all the submissions that helped me gain a better understanding of fiction, but it was seeing the breadth of skills and approaches that furthered my grasp on the art form. Inscape is the closest thing I have found, so far, that approaches the same experience that I am looking to replicate. 

    My hopes for an editorial position in the magazine, reminds me of the time I spent as Editor of the litrary magazine at Snow College. Having no precedent or inherited system, there was no other way to approach it other than with tenacity and imagination. There was an aspiring illustrator in my British Literature class. The journal gave me an excuse to talk to him. At church or in the hallways at school I would always think of excuses to talk to the artists: borrowing a documentary, mentioning galleries that I had recently visited, etc. Now that I was editor of a magazine I had literally a small booklet of reason to talk to artists. 

    Now that I’ve joined Inscape, all the hopes, aspirations and memories will be accessible and will, I hope, create an even deeper void inside me: a hunger, a longing and excuse.