I submitted one of my poems to Poetry Magazine. I am so nervous! I have never submitted any of my writing EVER before. Writing poetry is such a personal thing. It kind of lays your soul out there to be examined carefully by anyone who cares to read it. And, even more frightening, it leaves you open to be ignored completely. No one likes to be alone or to think that they are uninteresting.
I had a friend who majored in Theory and Composition (music) who once told me not to ever give anything I cared about to my professor to analyze. He was right, of course, because the professor will rip it to shreds in the process of grading it. You feel as if your have had your heart ripped out and stomped on. Unfortunately for artists, that is exactly what you must do, over and over. And not just for your professor, but everyone who hears your work. One has to develop a thicker skin when one is an artist. Not everyone has the same taste.
So, here I am, waiting to see what they have to say. Will they like it and just think that some of the grammar needs to be straightened out? Will they like the concept, but say that it's all been done before by better poets than me? Will they love it and ask me to write more?
I am reminded of being in high school and waiting for the play callbacks and then the final cast listings to be posted. I could never stand the pressure of waiting, so I would always choose the last audition spot I could possibly take. It served me pretty well, I guess. I made every play. I even had pretty good parts in them. When I auditioned for college music programs, I always took the last audition date because they told me that they would tell me immediately whether or not I made the cut.
I hate to wait for answers. I'm very impatient. That's probably why I write a blog, too. I wouldn't want to wait to see if I was acceptable to be published or write anything that was actually long enough for a book...no, no, I am a short story-poetry-essay kinda girl.
I never thought that I would ever write poetry. I was not very accomplished at it in school. I still can't write a decent song lyric to save my soul, but somewhere in the far-reaches of my soul, there is poetry. It peeks out every now and then to surprise me. I will be looking at something and suddenly a torrent of words will attack me to describe the scene or the feeling I am having. It is really quite surreal. I have taken to carrying a notebook with me everywhere so I have something to write with.
Well, I guess I'll see if any of this stuff is good enough to be printed. Then, I guess I'll write some more. I can't stop. It's like an addiction. Strange how all the arts are like that.