Some projects have good sales potential and broad appeal, others, not so much. I’ve found it is most hit and miss with poetry. I’ve had a fairly decent number of poems published by various publications over the years and it’s something I write that I don’t necessarily share with everyone.
A few months ago, I got a bug under my skin about a particular project, a linked progression poetry chapbook mostly dealing with anxiety, depression, and letting go of the toxic stuff in life. I don’t know if there is much call for it but I feel like there might be, like maybe there are others who would find it interesting.
I’ve played around all day with formatting, binding options, cover options, and all that jazz. I’m probably going to offer the chapbook in a few formats but initially, it’ll be hand-stitched with a glossy cover. Release day will be soon but I want to make a fair number of copies to have on hand.
I can’t seem to shake it, get it out of my head or let it go. I did not know this man except through his music. I did not know anything beyond the face he gave his fans. He told the stories of his life through music and, the more I listen to Blackstar, the more broken my heart feels. This was his goodbye, his assurance that his legacy would end on a high note. I’m listening to it, watching the videos (so very Bowie-esque), and reading the lyrics. It’s not a matter of trying to make sense of it – I’ve no need of that. This grief comes in little waves, not overwhelming floods like I’m accustomed to. I think the persona of Bowie would approve of little lasting waves that have the strange side effect of also inspiring me to reopen that part of my writing that I’ve not touched in years.
I cannot remember the last time I wrote a poem down on paper but in my head there are couplets and snippets spinning again. When these thoughts have a little more form than just the rhythm of the words or the way they feel in my head, I’ll put them down and maybe even do something constructive with them. I’ve always had pretty good luck finding good markets for my poetry.
Filed under Life, Writing
I have almost managed to get all the Christmas decorations put away. I should have everything but the dishes done today and if I don’t manage the switching of the dishes, I’ll do it tomorrow. That’s not too terrible but I do feel behind on it.
I have managed to work a bit on Demonborne on one of the last five days. I’ll make it two today hopefully but if not, then not. I need to get better at keeping track but wordcount doesn’t really work for me – especially during rewriting/editing. I suppose I’ll just consider it a win if I not only open the file but actually go through a few pages. I really need to add about 20k words minimum to the story – which is good as I tend to be sparse with description until I’m sure I’ve got the plots down. Description can always be added, if my plot doesn’t work, none of those descriptions, no matter how awesome, will matter in the least.
On to my tiny rant: oldest child is doing a poetry unit in school. He’s a Freshman in high school so I don’t know what I expected. I remember poetry units when I was in school. I remember that 90% of the poetry we went through was by people we would never hear of again and weren’t even all that good. I am picky with my poetry and I don’t keep up with it as much as I should but my kid could only name a scant handful of poets I classify as Must-Know poets and all of them were men. I admit, most of my list of Must-Know poets are male but only because that’s what I was most exposed to in my youth (I’ve added women to the list over the years as I’ve been exposed to more of them). Dead White Male Poets who were mostly from England, Scotland, and Ireland. There is so so so much more to poetry than that. Most poets that our children know are lyricists. There’s nothing wrong with lyricists but what about Tennyson or cummings or Longfellow? What about Dickinson, Walker, and Kerouac? Are spoken word poets considered lyricists?
He did a segment on spoken word just before Christmas and the kid has some skill with it. It’s raw now and needs refining but it thrills me that it’s there. I showed him some of my favorite spoken word pieces that maybe not everyone knows about and he wasn’t impressed with most of it. In part because he’s 15 and hasn’t figured out yet that women’s voices should matter to him regardless of if they’re talking about female issues and in part because he has no frame of reference for so much of it. Mid-career Rollins spoke to him some just because he’s a lonely, geeky teenage boy with some level of anger about being so. Waits confuses and interests him just on wordplay alone. My boy is teetering on the edge of his emo phase but I don’t think he’ll tip into goth like his mama did (I do so miss that phase sometimes).
It does, however, make me think more about poetry. I fell asleep last night dreaming poetry and reapers. Maybe this year I’ll go back to poetry a bit and see if the last 5 years since the last time I really wrote poetry have matured me any. Probably not but it’ll be interesting to see.
Who’s at the top of your Must-Know poets list? My favorite poet is still a dead white male poet but my list of ones that everyone should know does include a number of women.
Filed under kids, WIP, Writing