This is not writing poems*

Thinking about writing poems is not writing poems.

Talking about writing poems is not writing poems.

Writing about writing poems is not writing poems.

Scrolling through Insta is not writing poems.

Posting an article and composing the perfect witty caption is not writing poems.

Commenting about politics on Facebook, arguing about anything on Facebook, looking at pictures of bunnies on Facebook is not writing poems.

Outlining ideas for a themed chapbook you want to write is not writing poems.

Research is not writing poems.

Reading news online is not writing poems.

Reading a magazine, journal, or newsletter is not writing poems.

Reading a novel is not writing poems.

Reading poems is not writing poems.

Cleaning the dust from between the keys on the keyboard  with a cotton swab is not writing poems.

Cleaning the computer screen is not writing poems.

Looking for the microfiber cloth to clean the computer screen is not writing poems.

Cleaning the phone screen, while you're at it, is not writing poems.

Decluttering the desk is not writing poems.

Checking on that one thing you've been meaning to look up is not writing poems.

Searching for the blank journal you were given 4 years ago because it would be perfect to use for writing poems is not writing poems.

Thinking about ordering dinner is not writing poems.

Doing that yard work that's been put off is not writing poems.

Listening to an audiobook, while doing yard work, is not writing poems.

Getting a cold glass of water is not writing poems.

Getting a cup of tea, because now the room feels too cold after drinking a cold glass of water, is not writing poems.

Turning on the TV "just for background noise" is not writing poems.

Checking email for the 547th time today is not writing poems.

Skimming new calls for submissions is not writing poems.

Calling the parents to catch up is not writing poems.

Taking a walk is not writing poems.

Fetching a snack is not writing poems.

Re-opening the fridge 3 times because of indecisiveness about snacks is not writing poems.

Playing computer mahjong, solitaire, Minesweeper, Tetris is not writing poems.

Fretting about never having time to write poems is not writing poems.

Feeling sad about not writing poems is not writing poems.

Binge watching The Office is not writing poems.

Mopping the kitchen floor is not writing poems.

Sweeping the basement stairs that haven't been swept in six years is not writing poems.

Going on a bike ride is not writing poems.

Washing the laundry is not writing poems.

Washing the dishes is not writing poems.

Writing a blog is not writing poems.


*This is not to disparage any of the aforementioned activities. Some of these activities are genuinely helpful in writing or clearing the mind to help write, but sometimes (often) we I use these things as a crutch/excuse to not write poems because xyz must be complete before writing poems. 

Just write the poems!

Don't Do This with Poetry

 2021 marks 15 years since I started attending readings, open mics, and submitting poems for
publishing. Round numbers and fives put me in a nostalgic, reflective mood, because I'm human, and we're told that tens and fives have significance over years that end in 3 or 8, for whatever reason.

When I was much greener, I made some faux pas, some breaches of decorum, some hubristic failures of etiquette. It's a little lot embarrassing to admit.

I was in that place where I was still pretty new to the scene, had received some encouraging, positive feedback at readings, but very few publishing acceptances.

I was submitting, but submitting without direction. And one day, a rejection caught me in just the right wrong mood, and I committed what I now know to be one of the cardinal sins of submitting.

I replied to a rejection email.

The other day, I actually dove back through my old emails in an attempt to locate the event in question, but I'm a little relieved that I couldn't find it.

I no longer remember the press or the editor, and I hope whoever they were can say the same about me.

What I do remember about the message I wrote went something like this:

Why don't you like my poem? No one wants to print my poems! Don't you feel bad for me? I'm doing everything right! So why not? WHY?? Why don't you like me? WAAA-HIIIII-YYYYY??!!

I know, I know...

To the credit of the editor, I remember that he or she actually responded with a very polite sort of, "This poem just didn't fit in this issue."

I learned two things from that experience. While I didn't necessarily articulate these lessons to myself in so many words, I definitely intuited them.

Moral #1: Respect the editor (or the judge, the organizer, the emcee). Badgering editors with an argument about your brilliance (or pitifulness) isn't going to change their minds. Complain to your friends, commiserate with other artists, but leave the editors alone. Rejection is part of the territory. If you don't like it, as my husband would say, "Write better poems."

Moral #2: Ask the right questions.

Or rather, ask the questions that place the responsibility on the correct person.

My Lament of the Rejected was a way of blaming the editor (they just don't like me, that's why I got rejected) instead of me (what did I do wrong here and what can I do better?). And sometimes a writer does nothing wrong other than putting a poem in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not every poem will be accepted. No publication is obligated to accept me.

When I say ask the right questions, the questions need to be less like, "Why won't people buy my books?" and more like, "Where do I need to go to find my audience?"

Less like, "Why didn't this publication want my poem?" and more like, "Where do I find publications printing poems like mine?"

And the worst part of Moral #2 is that it's a whole heckuva lot more work than pouting. I'm still learning. I still do my fair share of pouting. Maybe that will come in year 16...

A Quick Update on Fracking in Akron

 To everyone who supported No Frackin' Akron--Thank you!

The Mayor has withdrawn the proposal to frack under the LaDue Reservoir...for now. But this is no reason to become complacent.

The movement continues in efforts to protect our air, water, and soil, locally, nationally, and globally.

Keep writing, keep fighting.