So I’ve been finishing off most of my poems with #poetryfromthenotpoet. I started doing it as a disclaimer because I know next to nothing about poetry. I don’t read it. I don’t know the various types. I don’t know any rules. I don’t pretend to think I write it well. I just enjoy it. I don’t want to learn the rules. I’ve had to do that… study a bit… when it comes to writing novels, and that’s a good thing. It’s made me a better writer, a better novelist. But I don’t want to be a good poet. I just know that sometimes I fill up with words and I like to pour them out. I’m not interested in learning how to spill a full glass of water in an organized fashion. Structure free feels nice sometimes, don’t you think?
P.S. Wavered on that last line so much because when people fail to notice you, when you aren’t given the time of day, when you feel invisible… that hurts and absolutely CAN take something from you. An overactive anxious mind can dwell on something like that -literally- for years, so I definitely don’t mean to diminish that. I just decided to write that the way I want it to be, and the way it ought to be. Because really, it’s something we shouldn’t give two flying shits about 😉
I debated back and forth about whether or not to blog through my experiences writing this second novel of mine. I tried it with my first, but was massively inconsistent. In the end though, I’m not so sure that matters much. What matters is that I did finish that first book. It took a variety of motivators, but I got it done, and I’d very much like to do that again. I’d like to do better though. I’d like to write better, and take my work farther. That first one, it’s all mine. Few eyes have scanned it’s pages. It’s secrets will die with me – something I find oddly romantic, but it’s not what I want for all of my work.
It’s world cup time. I was doing this exact thing four years ago. Starting one of the biggest creative projects of my life. Summer of writing. Summer of soccer. I haven’t missed a single match. This tournament transcends sports and athleticism for me. It makes feel a bit more connected to the world. There are always surprises… sweet little peeks into other cultures through the lens of a goal celebratory dance, an underdog upsetting a champion, tears of joy, tears of heartbreak… I find it all inspirational. Watch parties with friends and strangers alike. Cheers, flying beers. Good fun. Good fun. I don’t know why, and I’m not questioning it, but something about it all makes me want to contribute… to share. Every human being has something unique to offer up to the universe. Athletes, teachers, travelers, scientists, writers, yogis, mamas, cooks… countless people could put themselves in any of these categories and more, multiple, but their approach, their specific contribution is special and cannot be replicated. I think it’s lovely. I’m also ridiculously sentimental though. 🙂
Anyway this book… my second book. It’s essentially a fetus. It’s an outline and an opening paragraph. There’s a long way to go, but I’ve been here before. I’m excited to do this again. This makes me happy.