The Next Step In My Poetic Journey

From my Facebook page:

“It’s time for me to really work on my poetry again. The practice this Poetry Month has allowed me got me really missing crafting good pieces. I also sort of crashed a poetry reading over the weekend & met some local writers. They asked if I would read some of mine & I was terrified, but I did. They really liked them & invited me to join Michigan Writers & told me about some upcoming local poetry events. I really miss connecting in person with other writers. The online circles can be cliquey & discouraging to me sometimes. (My writer friends I know online should know I’m not referring to them. I notice it on Instagram a lot, many who seem to write for “the algorithm” which isn’t my thing & never will be.) So I’m mailing in my form to be a member of MI Writers tomorrow & plan to really dive into serious poetry writing again. I’m going to submit to places I’ve been afraid to because I either think I’m not good enough, or that I’m not educated enough. I’m excited to attend these events & workshops. The editor I met over the weekend was very kind & encouraging to me. So, after this month I won’t be sharing much poetry anymore because most publications view poems posted on blogs or social media to be “published work”. I’ve done a bit of disservice to myself by mostly sharing on my blog instead of submitting to magazines or journals. There’s nothing wrong with going that route, but I’ve been doing that for 20 years & would like to see my dream of a book acceptance come true. So I’m going to try & work hard at it. I’m not discouraged by rejections at all & never have been. I just know that circulating poems takes a lot of work. I’m in a good place healthwise where I can work more at it, so I’m going to. All I’ve ever known is that I’m a poet & I’m going to start acting like one again.”

I went through a particularly post-traumatic experience once where I couldn’t write for five years. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I often physically couldn’t, and the resistance to do so was all mentally driven. I would sit in front of my screen and feel such terror that I’d have a panic attack. I would open my journal with the sole purpose of getting tumultuous feelings out of me and my hand would shake so badly before I could even begin writing one word.

I’ll be brief in my explanation of this. I don’t want to get into too many details. I plan on really going deep with this in a series of poems because I feel ready for that finally. I have been writing poems and sharing them online for 20 years. I’d have messages of concern over some of them from time to time, and I found it annoying having to defend that I was okay a lot of the time. “I’m just a poet.” It seemed so obvious that it was “just writing” considering that most of these people knew me so well.

One day something I wrote online was severely misinterpreted and I had police officers show up to where I was staying to do a wellness check. This wasn’t new to me. In fact, I was fresh out of the psych ward and very traumatized by life events and all that I experienced in there. I wasn’t well. I was falling apart both physically and mentally and I didn’t have much support from anyone nearby at the time. These officers played their “good cop/bad cop” routine for two hours while I tried desperately to convince them I wasn’t a harm to myself or anyone else. They wanted me to show them things I had written. They went about it in a very sneaky way and didn’t come right out and say that this had something to do with something written online. I didn’t feel I had to show them my writing. I don’t show anyone my private journal. Why in the world would I be demanded by law enforcement to do so? I resisted. That made me grow more terrified, but somehow I was still adamant that I didn’t feel they had a right to see it. “Bad cop” wanted to drag me back to psych. “Good cop” was whispering to him that he felt I was ok but maybe “just a little odd”. I was explaining all I had been through like “Good cop” was a therapist. I cried. I babbled in “panic mode.” Eventually, I gave in and showed them the post in question. It was a poem I shared to Tumblr. The phrase that was so concerning was “Don’t make me hang myself with my words.”

“Oh, you’re just a poet,” “Good cop” said. I breathed out a deeply held-in exhale on the word, “Yessss.” “You’re fine. I’m sorry we bothered you.” Then he whispered “I think people are just messing with her. She’s been through enough. Let’s just go.” to “Bad cop” only for him to look extremely bothered for having his time wasted. The look he gave me before he finally agreed with “Good cop” was that he was mad he wasn’t going to get to bring me in anywhere. I’ll never forget that. “If you ever need us, call,” “Good cop” said before they left. “I doubt I will,” I whispered to the closed door.

This isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me in my life, but it deeply impacted me for obvious reasons. I don’t know who made the call. Apparently there were multiple people involved and there is a chance I was being “messed with” because there were a lot of people in that place and in that time who seemed determined to make my life even more hellish than it already was. I’m no longer there. I no longer associate with any of those people. I’ve moved on and have forgiven. I don’t even have answers and I’ve stopped asking “why?”

There is a LOT more to say about that time (that really is a brief overview, trust me) and my past poems have only glossed the surface. Ever since I was a teenager and dared show anyone my writing, many teachers would come to the same conclusion: “If only you could break through the surface, you could be really great.” I was terrified back then and not much has changed. I’ve heard this statement many times from so many people that you’d think I’d finally listen to it. That I’d go there. But I haven’t. And now I feel ready to.

It can be very discouraging in the online circles for writing. I make connections, (I hope they know who they are) but other times I feel so lonely on the internet because half the time I have to have much of it explained to me. If I talk to people in person there is no barrier between us. I can feel what the person is saying and I understand it better. Those I write letters with or have email correspondence with ARE friends to me. We have mutually agreed to move past comment boxes and get to know each other. I believe in that being “real” even if we have never met in person. I have left social media so many times because when I am bombarded by too much it makes me ill. I’ve learned the delicate balance of managing it, and I know how to scroll past things I don’t like. I don’t ever feel the need to add to discourse or argue with complete strangers. I often don’t even have snarky thoughts in my head about anything. Humans being humans, I think. Then other times I’m fearful. Things change so quickly and to see it happen in real time can be very overwhelming.

I also have had to struggle with the fear of being misunderstood again due to the extreme thing that happened to me. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m not famous. I’m not creating art to change the world or anything. I’m just expressing myself, my emotions, and my feelings. If someone is affected (hopefully for the better), that’s wonderful. But it’s not the reason I create. I don’t think I’m anyone special. I’m just a human trying to make sense of the happenings of this world and find peace in it like anyone else is. At that time, I was definitely not harming myself or anyone either. I was trying my best to avoid being harmed, so the whole incident really damaged me for far too long.

I believe people when they tell me I’m talented. I do feel that I possess a knack for words and sometimes I can get it down in such a way that I’m very happy with. Other times I think “Yeah, that poem is okay..but I feel I can make it better.” This is what I’m going to be focusing on very soon.

So as I also stated above, after this month I won’t be sharing much poetry here on the blog or social media anymore. A lot of publications view writing posted on blogs or socials as “previously published work” and those submissions are disqualified. This isn’t always the case, but I have seen it in the guidelines of places I have really wanted to submit to, but have always been afraid to. I want to give my work a chance out there in the publishing world again. As I stated above, I want to have a book out someday. It’s been a dream and it’s not like I haven’t tried in the past, I just know I haven’t tried hard enough or worked as hard at it as others have because I often lack the physical and mental energy to. I truly am in a better place now. I still have seizures, I still have my pain flare-ups, but I have more good days than bad days since I moved here. 

I am such a fan of the Jane Campion film An Angel At My Table which is about the life of New Zealand writer Janet Frame. I put it on as background noise while I’m writing sometimes. I really adore Frame’s work and can relate to some of her personal struggles that she wrote about in her three part autobiography. I often say “I want a Janet Frame writer life” referring to certain scenes in the film where she is typing in her bed with a sun visor on, or eating oranges by a window, or visiting the sea and being inspired. She lived in another time without internet distractions. I always feel I’d get more done if I wasn’t busy scrolling for no reason. I also live near water now. I can walk to the lakeshore in one minute and in ten minutes I can follow the trail to my lookout point and write with the birds as my company. I have done this of course, but I don’t do it often enough. There is no reason other than fear. “What if I have a seizure?” etc. Some days that fear goes away and I’m there on that bench and all is fine. Then sometimes I’m afraid to take those first steps out the door alone.

I started to feel the submission process was nauseating as well. I never like feeling like I might be accepted because I’m anything other than a good writer. Because I’m chronically ill, disabled…because I’m Native, etc. I really don’t like that at all. I still see blatant suggestions within guidelines that make me feel like I’d be a token for their mag. That I’d be filling their “diversity quota.” I really love the publications that still do blind readings, where there is no identifying marks on the submission. They don’t even want names! That speaks to me more than anything because my piece is being judged solely on the quality of the writing and THAT is what I want. It’s what I need help with the most. I want to know how to improve because I always feel there’s more room for that in every area of life. 

I’m reading (and meeting) writers who aren’t even on social media! I have been sold a lie for a while that our “internet presence” matters when it comes to getting work out there. It may for some people and some publishers demand it, but not everyone. There are still people who only write in notebooks and that has become more of my speed. (My speed is very slow…I need to be that slow and ponder every word because when my brain moves too quickly things that don’t feel so good can happen.) I’m not knocking anyone who can only write on a computer, or their phone, or tablet or anything, please don’t misunderstand me. I’m definitely not criticizing those who are perfectly happy with only sharing their work online. We all need to utilize the tools that best serve us and there is nothing wrong with any of it! Getting art out there however you have to is much needed especially now. I don’t care why you write or who or what you write for, I’m just happy that you’re writing. I believe we all just need to discover what works the best for us and what feeds our souls to the fullest. I have decided that my soul is hungry for something more.

I’m on my way to finding out for myself what that is. I mailed out my Michigan Writers form today and I’m so excited to attend some poetry events. I am going to a reading on Sunday and may even read some of my own work at an event on Monday. I also have signed up for a workshop at the library on May 25th. I’m so excited because months ago I thought about abandoning poetry entirely. I put a lot of focus on my music blog, and I really love doing that as well, but it definitely doesn’t mean I have to never write another poem again. I like writing all kinds of things, and I do. It’s actually enjoyable again. I’m even surprised I put in a lot more to this month’s NaPo than I thought I was going to be able to.

(Speaking of the music blog, I had a lovely conversation with a couple of musicians and if you’re so inclined you should definitely read that HERE. There are so many other great posts by myself and guest writers you can read as well. It’s been really fun since we started and I’m glad it’s going so well.)

I recently spent a couple of weeks on a poem by writing one line per day and really working on that one line for the whole day. I found I still made edits to it in the mornings before going on to the next one. It was slow moving, but it felt amazing and I was very happy with it when it was completed. I can up that to a stanza a day to move a bit quicker and if I do write something faster, I can just make sure I take my time on the edits. I also read my work aloud many times because that’s the best way for me to gauge how it sounds. I even read it a few different ways and that’s been great as well. I’ve also had some wonderful help and feedback from others and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to help me so much.

I’m not going to be in my own way anymore. I’m going to “give it a go” again as they say. I’ll pretend I’m back in my 19 year old mindset and send poems everywhere and keep track of them in my little spreadsheets so I don’t get confused. I have done this at one time and I’m sure I can get into the swing of it again. I might not have an MFA but that doesn’t matter. I won’t let that intimidate me in my choices on where to send work to. There are so many magazines and journals. The chapbook idea brewing in my mind may find a home as well. I have no idea, but I’m so ready to find out what is going to happen next.

Afterthoughts: I’m not going anywhere when it comes to WordPress. I’m keeping my blog and I’m keeping my socials. I’ll just have minimal presence on socials and will update you all on my processes here. If poems don’t find homes, I’ll definitely share them and I’ll let you know if my work does end up anywhere. I also enjoy reading everyone else’s work so I’ll still be around.

Image is a still from Jane Campion’s 1990 film, ‘An Angel At My Table‘