A Coinstar Kind of Writer

“When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man with a crayon in his mouth.” — Kurt Vonnegut

When I write, I feel  like a Coin Star machine. Ideas pour into my chute like a collection  of coins, with pocket lint and maybe a button or two. The ideas spill in as the universe tilts its jar of stuff, and I sort it out, organize, arrange it all into a collated amount that’s easier to understand. $27.13 is equivalent to Prosey 8-4-12, a practice piece for my Monday night class. $7.89 is my silly Noncation journal.  $6.66 is the blurb about the “fallen angel” crap. $69 is a piece I have saved with a password, and will probably never make public because I’m too embarrassed to publish such naughty things.  Writing, you see, is my way of taking cold, hard pieces of life and  trading them for soft, convenient slips, with color and worth.

7 thoughts on “A Coinstar Kind of Writer

  1. Janine, your writing is always a breath of fresh air, but on long, hot summer days, it’s heavenly ice-cold lemonade.

    And all that excess change! Such wondrous sorting options you have! My own coin jar currently has 35 pennies, 6 nickels, and 20 dimes (I actually counted them this morning). That piddling amount is what I get for using plastic almost exclusively, which may explain why my idea universe has of late suffered a dearth of coin slot options. And not even any quarters for backup! These. alas, are religiously guarded in a separate Sav-on pill container for exclusive use in the coin-operated washer/dryer that two other apartment tenants and I share.

  2. Pingback: Waiting for an Hour – the Chapbook | The Letter J, The Number 9

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