Some days, I believe that I am one of the most joyful people you will ever meet. I am sure that I’m content and happy and always going to be that way, that I’ll keep seeing the world through my own, permanently rose-tinted glasses. I smile at a whole lot of nothing, or little things, or anything. I want everyone to be “always happy and running” (N. Perry reference). That’s most days, honestly, most moments I stop to think about how I am.
There are other days – at least moments – in which life is not that simple. It’s a little darker, or I am more cynical, or I’m feeling particularly antagonistic or bitter towards the people who’ve been sticking their noses where they’ve got no place being. The latter are the mean sort of happy days, cocky almost, when I feel strong and capable of things that are not kind. And of course there are times when I’m just a little down for no discernible reason, when all I want is sleep and days passing without thinking.
But mostly it is good, and I am happy. And I think that this is strange, as we writer-folk tend to get this rap for being rather morose, a bit prone to bitter liquids and harsh cigarettes. And I hope that I can still write, that I can be clear and true and say things worth saying, in spite of this weird emotional up-tick so different from, well, nearly all of the people who said wonderful, memorable things that were worth saying.
Along those lines…so I was at this English conference this weekend, in the lovely city of Savannah, GA. It was nerd-ish and great and exactly the kind of thing I like. Anyway, there were lots of smart people there, who’ve been doing the writer-thing far longer than I have, who are doing the publishing thing a lot more frequently than I am, and who have some pretty insightful things to say along those lines. The crux of the matter is this: apparently it’s pretty standard for literary journals to want your previously unpublished work and, by that, they mean published nowhere, not even a personal blog that doesn’t so much as turn a profit.
So I’m at a bit of a crossroads. Because I am doing this thing, this actively-trying-to-be-a-writer thing, and publishing/pursuing publication is a necessary evil- at least, it’s the part that helps ensure that there’s food in the fridge, that the fridge in fact works because the electric has been paid. And since next year I’ll be in grad school, it follows that I will be doing those things, and seeking publications. It follows, unfortunately, that for the time being I think I’ll need to stop throwing the new things up here, at least until after they find homes elsewhere.
I’ll still be using this blog; I rather like it, and I like writing in this way. It’s a nice breather from poetics on some days, and on others it’s a help in muddling through the mess between my ears. So I’ll still be here, doing this, throwing up the poetry I love from other, wonderfully talented poets. And – cross your fingers for me – as my own things go out into the world, you’ll see them here, too!