Community

or I'm So Happy Other People Write Poetry

I was fortunate enough to have a poem published in Rattle recently, which has a large subscriber base and posts selected poems daily on their website, as well as through their free newsletter. I remember feeling elated when the poem was accepted, but I had no idea how much better it would be once the poem was posted on the site. I received several messages through the contact form on my website—a couple from people I knew, but more from folks I didn’t. They all just reached out to say they liked the poem, with a few sharing their own poems or details from their lives that lined up with the ones in my poem.

The rush of good feelings wasn’t just about validation of my poetry, though if you write you know how much of what we do feels acutely personal, almost cut off from other people by the solitary nature of the work. It was about connection. These other poets, at various stages of their writing experience—some widely published, some not yet published—are now part of my literary community, whether or not we communicate directly with each other again.

When I was a young poet (approximately a million years ago—we depended on woolly mammoths for transportation), I felt I had failed at one vital aspect of graduate school: networking. Uncomfortable with smalltalk and with putting myself forward, I never joined the circle of eager students surrounding visiting writers like baby birds hoping to be fed. I didn’t see the point; this famous writer wouldn’t remember me afterwards, as they were surely busy hanging out with other famous writers, drinking champagne and eating caviar and being geniuses.

A drawing of the mammoth I rode to my classes (we didn’t have photography back then). Her name was Matilda.

But guess what? Now I’m an old poet, if not famous, and while I have wonderful friends, some of them writers, I’m always happy to talk or email with other poets and writers, published or not. Talking about writing is a joy to me, in this world that offers so much anti-poetic noise. Knowing that others are searching for the right metaphor, experimenting with line breaks, trying to get closer to the mystery by expressing what it’s like to to live in their bodies and minds in this specific time and place—that gives me hope when hope too often feels far away.

Incidentally, that poem in Rattle appears in my forthcoming poetry collection from Sheila-na-Gig, What Life is Like Here on Earth. It will be out in April or May, and I’m excited to share it with you all.

NEXT CLASS BEGINS MARCH 4: The next class I’m offering is on dreams—the ones we have at night, daydreams, life dreams, and more. One of the writers who has taken those classes just had their first piece accepted; others regularly publish poems and flash essays that started in response to prompts from the classes. We have found a way to create real community online, through thoughtful responses to submitted work that note what’s going well and challenge the writer to try new approaches. Click here for more information & to sign up.