When it comes to poetry, I have been feeling like a fraud. This has happened to me before, but the feeling was overwhelming over the last month or so, and I have to tell you, it's not a good feeling at all. I suppose it started when I realised that I had been totally ignored by the two competitions I had recently gathered my courage to enter. Of course, I didn't win -- I never win competitions of any sort. But once again I didn't make the short list or the long list or get a commendation or anything. Zip. And then there were the Year-End Lists where I wasn't mentioned even once by anyone. Then I started to think about how my poetry books rarely get reviewed or noticed. No one in the poetry world gives a nod in my direction or asks me my opinion or anything. Thinking about such things, I went into a good old spiral of gloom, as we writers can so easily do. No one knows me. No one cares. You know the kind of thing.
I then thought, "Oh well -- this is what you get for daring to write prose as well." REAL poets don't write novels and plays. REAL poets only read poetry, not fiction. And not only that, but REAL poets have hundreds of poems memorised. They can reel off the rules of a form, from sestinas to villanelles, at the drop of a hat and tell you all about their histories and cite important examples. They've read everything by Keats, not to mention Yeats, and they can comment knowledgeably on the differences between every school of contemporary poetic thought there is. And I can't. Ergo....
Now I know that anyone who isn't a REAL poet would raise their eyes at me in annoyance about all this. After all, I have been publishing poetry for nearly 10 years (I just looked and realised that the first poem I ever had accepted for publication in a literary journal was published in October 2002). My poems have appeared in some of the most important journals in Britain. Plus, I have -- not one -- but two books of poetry published by real life publishers. So how can I say that I'm not a poet? Well, my arguments are (1) 10 years is a long time and still no one in the poetry "establishment" knows about me, (2) I've never been published in The New Yorker, or The Poetry Review, or Ploughshares or any of the national newspapers (3) my books are ignored by reviewers and my publisher, although marvellous in every way, is not Bloodaxe or Carcanet. You see how crazy I can get?
After wallowing for a bit, though, I got tired of feeling like a poetry fraud and I got angry -- at myself. For me, the best remedy for this sort of literary malady is to write. "Answer me this, Sue," I asked myself. "Do you want to be a poet?" "Yes, please," I answered. "Why?" "Because I love poetry and even if I don't want to write it, I can't seem to stop myself from doing it." "Well then, you little fool. Shut up and start writing." "Yes, Ma'am."
And so, over this holiday I started each morning with a quiet few minutes reading poetry. All sorts: contemporary, old, American, British, long, short. And then a funny thing happened...I started to write. Over ten days I wrote four poems (that's a lot for me) and also came up with an idea for a new collection. The poetry part of my brain became not only re-engaged, but re-ignited. And although I still feel frustrated and annoyed, I don't feel like a fraud. The remedy is always the same. Just shut up and write.
I usually don't print my poems on the blog, and certainly not new, probably-not-really-finished poems, but it seems only right to post one now. Here you go:
Misplaced
By mistake I left my toothbrush in the
downstairs bathroom
standing at attention, awaiting my return.
All day long I remembered to retrieve it
and bring it back to its home in the cup
upstairs.
I remembered when I brought the dried
towels from the laundry
and put them on the shelf across the room.
I remembered once again when I loaded the
dishwasher
and gathered up the petals fallen from the
roses.
All day long I remembered my poor toothbrush,
only to have it
slip time and again back into that world of
lost thoughts --
until just now when I stopped what I was
doing
and marched into that bathroom, laughing to
think
of my long-suffering toothbrush chuckling
at me, having waited
so patiently, erect and out of place.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I found it
not there,
the space beside the toothpaste tube
vacant,
vacant like me as I rushed up the stairs to
find it
in its proper place returned sometime,
somehow.
Condescending in its rectitude, it glared
at me
in wonder at all I had forgotten. I
shuddered. It bristled.
13 comments:
Is there any writer of anything, not just poetry, who does not have THOSE days? I'm sorry that inner mean guy took such a bash at you, but you showed him his place. Let's hope he stays there awhile.
(Loved the toothbrush poem BTW!)
"No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: he may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing" - T.S. Eliot, 1933.
To feel you are recognised as a poet you don't need to win these competitions, be shortlisted, or get into Poetry Review. Thousands of poets, including famous ones, compete for this. Not getting placed means nothing.
To be part of the poetry world it needs one thing. To be actively involved in the events and projects both on and offline. It takes a decision to step through that door which is open to you, but it takes a lot of time.
So it depends if people want to do that. These days it's easy to become part of the poetry community - it was much harder when I was setting out years ago. But it does take commitment because so many people are so engaged with events and projects in poetry. They have been engaged in this way for years because poetry is such an addictive passion.
Writing good poetry is just a part of it. Some people don't want to be too engaged with the other activities, which is also fine. But it does mean not being quite as noticed as the others. The standard of the writing is still recognised. I'm sure you have been noticed.
As for one publisher being better than another. Most poets are struggling to find a publisher, including very good ones. I know because I have to turn them down.
We are the publishing company contacted by Andrew Motion and Jo Shapcott to publish the anthology from their course. We're also publishing the prizewinning collection from a competition judged by our present Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy.
Poets on our list have won the major competitions including the National Poetry Competition and we have more impressive poets coming soon.
It breaks my heart that I have to turn away excellent poets and can only take the outstanding ones. Perhaps I should show you the ones I've had to turn away?
Lauri: Ah, misery loves company. So glad you liked the poem.
Tim: Excellent quote. I'm going to post it above my desk. Thanks.
Adele: Ha...I knew you'd respond with these assurances and words to the wise. I was a bit worried when I made the crack about Carcanet -- but I trust you knew it was somewhat done for comic effect. It is so true, though, that it really is all about getting out into the poetry scene via events etc. As you know, I am trying to do that. We're blessed here in London to have so many. I could be at 2 readings every night of every week if I wanted. Maybe I should say I'll be at 2 or 3 a month so it doesn't feel so overwhelming. And the key, though, is to take part in the open mics. Otherwise no one would ever know I was there. And anyway, they are fun! Ann Alexander had an interesting comment about this, too, which she posted on Facebook.
A. I asked you for advice.
B. The fact that you have a contract and are published is what any writer wants most in the world. Now you just want a bit more.
C. How many poems did Emily Dickinson have published in her life. what recognition did she receive?
D. I sent a poem to David Cooke (whom I have a lot of admiration for as a poet) asking whether I was good enough to enter for a competition. He said it was, but judges have personal tastes so don't expect it to win.
Also if you don't have days like these you will become complacent and your work will suffer.
Glyn: Thanks for all this. And I do agree that having days like this is necessary in order to keep challenging yourself. As I said, I hesitated to write it, but I do want to be honest in my blog and show the downs as well as the ups of this life, so I went ahead and posted it. And it has meant a lot to me to know that people like you have sought me out.
@Glyn: Emily Dickinson had few poems published in her lifetime but she had a close circle of trusted readers who gave her the recognition she wanted rather than editing the poetry out of her poems that editors tended to do (for her getting published was a disappointment). All poets need a trusted reader or a community where they can feel valued.
Emma Lee : What an important comment. Like all art, poetry is subjective and we do need to find the circle of like-minded readers who will help us know that our work hasn't fallen on deaf ears. It's so important not to loose sight of who they really are. Thanks for dropping by!
I hear you, I really do. Especially in these days where instant communications means we know who has won what, who has published where, etc..etc... But like you, when I have these moments, I find reading to be not just solace but immensely inspiring. Reading your wonderful poem has inspired me, so thank you for that!
I loved that poem and wouldn't mind being able to write poetry nearly as good as that one.
I'm going to have to print out the T S Elliot quote. Thanks Tim.
Ah you're a poet, and a good one. You know that, and that's what matters.
Lovely poem, Sue! Great theme tackled well.
In the last line consider "what I had forgotten" instead of "all I had forgotten".
Danish Dog: Thanks so much for taking the time to comment, and for persevering with your purchase!! I have now fixed the broken link on the blog and am having a good think about your excellent last line suggestion. thanks again!
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