Inside Baseball

Writing about writing, or writing about attempting to get published is so inside baseball, but if not in one's own blog, then where? True, never is an option, but it’s my blog, so here goes. (Woof!)

I like writing. I like writing poetry, prose, this blog, letters, even notes on greeting cards. But I do not like naming my poems, nor do I like choosing which of my kids - er - poems to send out into the world.

Today I am struggling with choosing which poems to mail out tomorrow for consideration in a local publication. I’m second guessing myself. I try to imagine what “they” might like. I read and reread the guidelines to the point of re-igniting previously squelched obsessive compulsive behaviors. I toy with the titles of the poems. What captures the essence of the poem without giving the whole thing away? What is too abstruse, too minimalist?

Then comes the moment of letting go, when I realize even if I’m not ready, my poems are ready. (I actually love the poem I wrote about that very topic, but it’s not compatible with the local publication’s guidelines.) That’s when I make my final decision as easily as I can help someone else send their ill fitting, doesn’t-do-a-thing-for-you clothes to the thrift store. Next, off to the Post Office and my poems are on their journey.

I’ve gotten a lot more comfortable with the waiting. But the rejection remains a challenge. A challenge I’ll Scarlett O’Hara, and think about tomorrow.