On Thursday I shipped out the proofs of my forthcoming anthology, A Poet's Sourcebook, and this morning I turned in the final manuscript of my next poetry collection, Same Old Story. Next to clear off the desk: two editing projects and several teaching syllabi and some Frost Place paperwork, and then maybe, just maybe, I might find myself beginning to write again.

Composing yesterday's post reminded me of the many years I've been planning to write an essay about growing up in the daughter generation of writers such as Sexton and Plath. I'm not sure why I keep postponing that essay, but one of these days I'm going to have to gird my loins and start attacking the issue.  Last winter I even began to imagine teaching a course from that point of view--a general-interest, you-don't-even-need-to-be-a-poet-and-you-certainly-don't-need-to-know-squat-about-feminist-theory approach to the Woman Problem. But who hires anyone to teach that kind of class? And who would sign up for it? I have no idea.