Writing Playlist.

I have a playlist that I always listen to when I am writing.  It is an important part of my routine, to shut out real life.  There's only sixteen songs on there, but it lasts just under two hours, which is just about the limit of my concentration, and the rest of the family's forbearance.
Usually, if I'm on good form, I don't remember hearing anything after the first song (Lippy Kids - Elbow), but often, when I'm re-reading, I can spot an over-long sentence that has been carried along by a floating air from Vaughan Williams.  Mostly the music is slow, classical, and if I'm honest, more than a little maudlin.  My wife once said that she would insist it was played non-stop if I ever fell into a coma, to ensure that I did not wake up. (Cheerful woman, my wife.)
But, to me, the music is simply like an old net curtain, in dire need of a soak, that obscures the world just enough to leave my mind to wander free and unobserved.

This week, I've started writing in earnest again, and I think it's going well because I don't hear the music.

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PS - Have been writing some poetry lately.  Here's a question - How do you know when you're actually writing poetry, and not just having a complete, self-pitying,  nervous collapse?

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