Your Poem Isn't the Problem

and Why We Need Your Brand of Weird

Photo by Geert Pieters on Unsplash

I have two incredibly accomplished siblings in music, both classical pianists. One is also an opera singer and the other a composer. You know what I’ve never heard them complain about, not once? How classical music is not played on pop music stations. You know why? Because that would be ridiculous.

Stay with me on this one…

I believe poetry and music live in the same space. They move similarly in pulse and beat, in dynamics and crescendo. Poetry speaks in tumult, in lethargy. Syllables roll around the mouth, linger on the tongue, drip like honey, or come staccato, pricking and ticking tally marks as they move. A limerick will jig across the room. Word play turns into full-on street hockey, hitting all the best places in your brain like a pinball machine. A line break can devastate. A word can churn. Poems live in every dimension, akin to music indeed.

And, just like music, there are endless genres and a vast array of poetic languages. We learn to speak in the ones that feel the best in our fingers, in ours pen, in our chest. We find the ones that sound like us.

Yet, it’s confusing when our work connects deeply with one person, and is met with head scratches from another. It’s easy to take that personally and assume the worst. I feel this when submitting my work (aka, little pieces of myself) for publication. Those sad little rejection emails feel like the loudest head scratch— wah wah wahhh….

But, if I were to play heavy metal or classical music, it wouldn’t bother me if my friends didn’t enjoy that genre. That’s not about me at all, really, just preference. You can see where I’m going with this…

AC/DC— incredible. Phantogram, AJR, The Eagles, Simon and Garfunkel—Some of my favorites. Benson Boone? Oh my goodness, the passion in those vocals! If any of these artists tried to get a seat in the Philharmonic, though, we would expect nothing less than “no thank you, but we hope you find a place for your work elsewhere.”

So why do we expect something different in poetry?!

Many of us assume that a rejection (or several) means a poem, or our work as a whole, is no good, but there are over 1000 active lit magazines, each incredibly nuanced. They are not all the same, not by a long shot. If you are willing to find it, a lit mag exists that speaks your language.

And a big, bold reminder for those in the back—If your poem lights you up, it will light up for someone else!

Art does not live in a vacuum. It moves in the space between us. It is an alchemy not only for the creator, but for those lucky enough to experience it. We just need to find the right place and kindling to shine.

Some pieces reach their full potential in a series, like a movement in a symphony, or a personal collection/book. Some poems need to breathe in the right anthology or magazine. Some want to live on a different platform or media altogether.

I learned this principle through some hard knocks, after waiting five torturous months to be rejected by my local journal. It was my first submission and, even though I thought I was emotionally prepared, it was quite a blow. Of the five poems and two prose pieces I submitted, they wanted a total of zero. Brutal. I wondered if I was worth anything at all, if those close to me had just been blowing smoke, pretending to like my work. I wanted to give up entirely.

A few experienced writing friends set me straight, taking the time to be gentle with my fragile ego. (Thank you for that!) They, too, face oodles of rejection. They, too, feel like crap when those emails come in.

But, if we are to be brave with our work, we can’t let rejection crawl up inside and make a home. We can’t let it define our worth or our work.

We might need to cry, burn something, or make rejection black out poetry to laugh it off, but we get back to it. Try again.

Forty eight hours later, I received a response from another publication.

“We'd like to congratulate you on the selection of both of your poems for publication in our upcoming May issue… They are so beautifully penned that it'd be a crime to publish just one. Gorgeous work!” A month later, they reached out again wanting to put a two-page feature, including my poems and photo/bio, in the front of the magazine. What. The. Heck.

Right magazine. Right time. Right pieces. Right editor. Most importantly, right language.

Those were French horn pieces, so I sent them to French Horn quarterly. Was it a guaranteed yes? Of course not. But it helps to know your audience.

I’ve since received a few more acceptances and many more no-thank-you’s.

I am still figuring out where I want my work seen and how to refine it while preserving my voice. I expect to always learn and grow as a poet, but I’m not giving up. Do I need to be published in lit mags? No. There are many ways to get your work out there. But, for now, I’m enjoying the process. If nothing else, I’m learning the art of taking a punch and standing firm in the knowledge that I’m a damn good boxer. And I can go a few rounds.

So, I will leave you with this. What if Benson Boone compared himself to Yo-Yo Ma and abandoned his soul belting style because it didn’t feel good enough? What if he tamped down all that gut-punching passion bubbling up inside of him to look and play in a more acceptable way? And what if Yo-Yo Ma took one look at Boone’s success and discarded all those years of precision and gorgeous fusion with his cello?

If the whole world just wants to be someone else, what do we lose?

Let’s make space for the wildness of our creativity. Listen to that tug behind your navel. Where does it lead? Here’s a permission slip, if you need one: TRY COOL STUFF. What else is the point?

If your voice feels weird or different, good. Be weird. Be different! If you wonder if your work matters, it does. If you need to hear it, I will tell you.

We need your creativity, in whatever form you are willing to give it.

Someone out there is waiting to hang on your every word.

Here's some treasure for your lovely eyes. Rejection black out poetry. For some reason, I like to make it burn. Makes me laugh much harder. But, be kind to your heart. It's so very brave. Make em nice if that feels better.