NaPoWriMo Struggle Session [blog]

Now that National Poetry Writing Month is over, I thought it would be cool to take a look back at what was achieved, what was learned, and what could be done better… not necessarily in that order.

So for those who don’t know, the goal is to write 30 poems in 30 days. I did not achieve that goal this year. I think I wrote 30 pieces of writing, but a few were not poems. I guess a couple could have been poems if I added more line breaks. But still, in the strictest interpretation of the rules of NaPoWriMo, I did fall short of the goal.

However, it seems pertinent to interrogate what the point of NaPoWriMo actually is. This is going to be different for different people. But to me the points are to write more, write better, and to develop a rhythm within yourself, both in the writing and in the production of the writing.

To this point, I feel that I succeeded. I definitely wrote more. And that was awesome. I wrote some utter garbage, but I also wrote some things that I am truly proud of. And I developed a new writing routine that really suits my life at this moment.

Since I decided to do the exercise publicly on WordPress, I got to meet a lot of cool people and got some really interesting feedback in the comments section. This was my favorite part of the project.

Now I feel empowered to go forward and write more stuff in public. I don’t know if I’m going to keep the same grueling schedule that NaPoWriMo demanded of me. But with my new routine and my new friends, I’m really looking forward to what happens next. As cheesy as that is.

Don’t Write Every Day. [NaPoWriMo #20]

Don’t Write Every Day

Writing is terrible.
Nobody should do it.
It’s hard
and nobody reads what you write
and 95% of what you write is going to be trash.
That’s just math.

But if you have to write
don’t write every day.
If you read books on writing
they will say to write every day.
But don’t do it.
It’s a trap.

Writing every day
reduces your output
to a thin pink slurry
of awful diarrhea.

I do it
because I want this blog
to be successful.
But you’ll notice
the quality
diminishes.

I get away with it
because I’m extremely self-critical
in my writing.
People seem to like
when I talk shit
about my own work.
But that doesn’t make it good.

Write when you feel inspired.
Write when you don’t want to.
Write when something cool happens.
Write when you have a revelation.
But don’t write every day.
You will feel dirty for the awful things you produce.

NaPoWriMo #16

Becoming Real

I bought a web domain
to have a go at being real.
I’ve been unreal
for a long time–
living in odd places–
places where people
aren’t supposed to live…
open mics
message boards
Twitter…

Now I live in palaces in the sun.
Now I’m finally real.
My words live in houses of the wholly realized.

Contrary to popular mythos
there is love on the internet
and it comes from knowing there’s
a home for broken sentences
and calcified syntax.

NaPoWriMo 2020 #15

I don’t know if I’ve got it in me tonight.

National Poetry Writing month
takes its toll.
30 poems in 30 days.
Content burnout is real.

I know a guy
who lives in an adobe cottage
in New Mexico,
who lives contentedly,
is madly in love,
and writes like 3 poems a day.
I don’t know how he does it.

1 poem a day for 1 month
just about cracks me open.
That’s why I’m making this
diary entry metatext.
I need a break.
I need something easy.

It’s impossible to feel the muse
all the time
because she exacts a toll
and takes more than she gives.

Better to replenish oneself periodically
with a self-indulgent diary post.
It may not be good reading,
but it saves one from total burnout.

This may as well say “lorem ipsum”

NaPoWriMo Lucky 13 [video]

if we are living we are not made of stone.

if we are living we are not made of stone.
our bones are not broken yet.
we’ve made our houses in the shade
and our blankets are dry for now.
we dream of drinking light
and our shadows turn to bricks
with which we construct new libraries
and all the books are made of
our best stories
our best shelves

puddles splash forever
light crawls into pores
the sun is only softness
and never shades of brutality.

all business dies.
all business dies.
and the curse of commerce is lifted