The morally minded would say never, ever be unfaithful! Only those weak of spirit would be untrue to that which has been revered but… in the world of writing, things are a little different. Oh, you have your beloved projects, don’t you. Those novels, poems, stories that are written with your blood, born from your memories, crafted via your mind. How could you ever, you ask—wide eyed and wondering, be unfaithful to so marvelous a project? Once the little paper ink babe was born it became your duty to love and cherish till death—or for those very determined, beyond death do you part…
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Here’s a secret. I hate it when literary journals and publishers ask me to buy their books. “Hey,” I want to shout. “I’m a struggling artist myself. I’d buy your books if I could, but I’m broke! On that note, would you like to buy mine?” I try to go to as many poetry readings as I can, both to hear others as well as to have my three minutes on the open mike. Recently, I’ve become very interested in presenting my poem, speaking the poem as well as I can. Why? you might ask—shouldn’t the importance of a poem be on crafting the poem? Yes, sure, absolutely; however, unless you only plan to publish your work and let subsequent readers have the pleasure of mouthing your words in their head, then you need to be able to present your poem vocally to the best of you and your poem’s ability. This is what I have learned so far: Always at the start of a new year, I am filled with hope. It is as if I were standing in front of a wide, sunny path flanked with spruce. Looming ahead is great beauty, and yet, after a while, it is impossible to see what lies around the bend. Instead of provoking anxiety, there is elation. ‘This is the year!!’ is what my psyche seems to say. ‘For what?’ asks my rationale. ‘Everything…’ Thank you to the lovely person who left a comment about my post discussing rejections. I love those stories of writers who struggled to get their work published and who are now considered classics. On the other hand, stories like Vincent Van Gogh scare me. These past few months I’ve been busy writing, mainly short stories, as well as a few poems. There is a fire inside me... |
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