just the way it goes...

first thing in the inbox today- rejection letter. yep. not an exactly fun way to begin the day but at this stage in the game i've learned how to let that sort of thing bounce right off. i had sent 3 poems i've been working on for the past god knows how long to a publisher i've worked with before and i was actually shocked that they weren't accepted. i mean shocked. i'm not trying to toot my own horn here but the fact of the matter is that the work i sent is good. i always send my best work and present myself professionally and i don't (generally) submit stuff on a whim. i think long and hard about it and try to be as objective as possible, do my research and then think about it some more. the rejection didn't make me angry or sad or even confused... i think that maybe my work has merely gone in a direction that no longer fits into the over-riding aesthetic of the magazine. no big deal. that's the way this stuff goes. besides, you never know what kind of day the man with the gavel in his hand has had. never. and just because one person didn't want it doesn't mean someone else won't. besides, i'm pretty new to the whole poetry thing in terms of sticking it out in public. i'm definitely learning the ropes here and i expect i'll have to take my lumps like everyone else.

writing is hard. especially writing poetry. it's super duper hard... to write something "good" anyway. those few lines on the page are agonized over. and, in more ways than one, poetry is more about what isn't said than what is. in that respect, it's just like the paintings i've been making. what's withheld is what the work is really all about. i've always thought that painting and poetry are sisters. but i definitely don't have nearly the committed and dedicated writing practice as i do with painting. not nearly. i write every day but i don't write poems every day and i definitely don't edit and revise and critique every day like i do with the paintings. i'm still discovering my process with this stuff. and i don't really have anyone to share the poems with right now either. my sweetheart enjoys it when i read one to him but he's not exactly a poetry buff. he prefers the paintings for sure... as i'm sure most people who know me do. poetry has a pretty screwy reputation. most people think it's dumb and that it sucks and that anyone can do it. well, not quite. nothing could be further from the truth. poetry is hard and beautiful and important and it's an ever-changing, morphing thing that's hard to pin down. but it isn't hard to find. it's everywhere. i know that sounds like a horrible cliche but it's true. it's hiding in all those over-looked, common corners of a life. it's there waiting to be coaxed out... and i guess i'm trying to figure out how to do that. i will keep after it until i do.