In 2017 I clicked on ‘publish’ on Pronoun. I remember an awkward sensation travelling throughout my oesophagus. I had self-published a collection of poems, and I was breathing a different quality of happiness. I could have finally introduced myself saying: I am a writer because I have a book published.
Two years after, I look back, and I want to hug the younger myself – disoriented, insecure. But I also laugh about what I did because back then having a dream was the only thing keeping me alive. With time, mistakes make sense if we treat them as lessons instead of ugly failures. I wasn’t ready to make that move, and you can tell by the reason that made me rushed publishing.
Today I treat poetry and my writings with the same concern of a dog digging deep holes for his bones.
It takes lots of time to make a finished product after the writing vomit (my nickname for the first draft = words out of my control, getting out of me through my hands). If I sit and ‘think’ about what to write, I believe I am using another side of my brain – good for editing, reading, drafting things in here.
Besides a reasonable amount of time in learning the craft (and hopefully getting decent at it), I believe there is one thing we need to achieve before delivering the finished product.
We need to believe in what we are doing.
The power of creating something is measured by the same energy we give it. If we don’t have the grand vision of it, it lacks confidence or seems there’s no strength in what we are trying to say…why would readers bother to come on a journey with us?
Months, days, years, rain, sun, going to sleep angry and relaxed, holidays in between stressful weeks, grocery shopping, and house cleanings. Life has to do its course before we have the clarity to take some distance from what’s inside our head and hear:
You know what? I think this shit is good. I feel it. It does make sense of saying what I am trying to say. I think people will enjoy it. I can’t make it better than it is.
I have been pushing boundaries of the poetry genre the way I have always known it. In my book, there is poetry, and a world of characters hanging out. They turned out so alive and secure of themselves that I ended up creating some bits of the story as a play. If it’s a live performance in my head – I don’t see why my readers shouldn’t have a laugh too?
And I promise – you’ll hear from me soon. My experimental poetry book is on its way. Finally, I know, it can’t get any better than it is.
I’m just choosing the right ribbon for you 😉