Author Archives: Drema Drudge

Given the choice between decluttering and writing a novel, apparently Word Raccoon, my little writing friend on my shoulder, prefers novel writing. Actually, I think she is kind of into it now. I haven’t even caught her so much as sniffing for a poem in the past couple of days, though she did sigh dramaticallyContinue reading “Word Raccoon Refuses to Declutter Unless Stanley Tucci Is Narrating”

The raccoon has been pretty quiet today. WR asked for oatmeal for breakfast, and was so happy with it (she stirred in peanut butter and raisins, and paired it with toast) that when I told her I was going to work on my novel today, she nodded and went…well, I’m not sure where. This wasContinue reading “Just a Couple of Punk Poems”

No one anywhere asked for another poem about flowers. But today I fell into an Emily Dickinson vein and, unfortunately, it was not the kind of vein that politely delivers a single respectable poem and then returns you to normal life. No. It was the kind that sends you into the metaphorical woods with aContinue reading “No One Asked for More Flower Poems, But Have They Seen Dickinson’s Herbarium? “

Today I wrote ten poems before lunch. I know this because they are sitting here looking at me, like they showed up uninvited but brought their own chairs. They weren’t here, and now they are, facing me, smiling, frowning, squinting. I’m equal parts proud and alarmed.  Word Raccoon would like it noted that this wasContinue reading “Poetry Before Lunch”

The calendar came in hot this past week. Monday wanted a fresh start.Tuesday brought a clipboard.Wednesday had opinions. Word Raccoon did not consent to this meeting. Then my cold returned. Not with drama. With persistence. I suspect it was because Word Raccoon and I had taken two longish walks earlier in the week. It satContinue reading “Word Raccoon Takes the Calendar Outside “

Okay, so the sun played hide and seek Tuesday, but the air was warmer, which is why Word Raccoon begged to take a walk. She was convinced that if we went looking, we might coax the sun out to play. We hadn’t been out in a while. By which I mean: this was our firstContinue reading “Limburger in Limboland  “

Now Playing: Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings by Father John Misty  Word Raccoon asks permission to write at a local café today.I must respectfully deny her request. It’s not any one reason. Just several that, taken together, make going out into what promises to be a gloomy day feel deeply unappealing. I mean, what’s the point?Continue reading “No One’s Gotta Help Me Dig”

I think I lost myself in The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams as I read that enthralling novel. (Yes, yes, low-hanging fruit of a sentence, but I’m not writing a review, so hush.) I needed to let it soak in, needed to absorb it like tea needs time in the cup. More onContinue reading “Trucks Are the Flannel of Vehicles: A January Dispatch from the Dictionary of Word Raccoon”

From almost the moment she woke this morning, Word Raccoon’s been flirting with poetry calls. I gave her a few minutes to admire the big, strong journal covers just begging for her words. (She wishes.)  I even let her put in her most fun earrings. (Just kidding. I’m feeling better, but not that much betterContinue reading “Word Raccoon Has Entered the Chat (With Imaginary Earrings)”

I watched Nonnas today. Netflix, a couch, a body that’s been under the weather, the kind of day that still feels padded around the edges. It was, well, I don’t say heartwarming lightly, but it was. Word Raccoon was there too, wrapped in her hooded robe that feels like being inside a stuffed animal thoughContinue reading “Nonnas, Hunger, and Poetry “