The Thursday! Newsletter 1-32: Wear that Flare with Pride!
Volume 1, Issue 32
I'd like to play a little game with you.
Picture a poet in your mind. Don't think about it too, too hard. Just let your mind grab a picture to go with the word "poet", then hold on to it for a moment. Got it? Okay.
Does your picture look like Juan Felipe Herrera? How about George the Poet? Amanda Gorman? Rumi? Simon Armitage? Maya Angelou? Billy Collins? Edgar Allen Poe? Shel Silverstein? Did your mental picture of a poet create someone dressed in flowing bohemian clothing or maybe all in black. Maybe it was a man with long hair and a shaggy beard or a woman with thin glasses and grey hair.
Did you picture me at all?
I didn't ask you to make you feel bad. I know you didn't think of me. But here's the thing. I didn't think of me either and I know I'm a poet. That's not even an opinion. It is objective fact. I published a book of my poetry. My co-creator has poems for a second book. We've made tentative plans for a third. I've written and published poems on my web site and elsewhere. I am a poet, and yet I don't see myself as a poet because when I visualize what a poet can look like or sound like or live like, what I see doesn't look or act or sound like me.
Does that seem wrong to you? It does to me. It seems very wrong. Why in the world would I deny myself membership to a club (if only a club in my own mind) for which I have amply qualified? Why would I say "Oh, I'm no poet" when someone praises a poem I wrote in a book they actually bought?
This, my friends, is madness, at least just a little bit. But I bet I'm not alone in this. I bet you have some thing -- let's call it a title -- that you are but when you leaf through your mental catalog for what people who hold that title are, you aren't in it. For instance, you may think you aren't a writer even though you write all the darned time and even though you may have a publishing credit or two. You may not think you're an artist even though you've sold your art many times over and your work has appeared in galleries. You may not think you're a singer even though you've heard the applause of an appreciative audience from up on the stage.
Why in the world do we do this? Why do we let our Inner Critic convince us we are not a thing we want to be with our whole heart even though we've done everything necessary to be that thing? I think the answer is hidden in the word "real". You know what I mean. "Oh, I sing in a group but I'm not a real singer", you say with a little extra stress on "real".
"I'm not a real artist. I just make logos and stuff."
"I'm not a real sculptor. I just mess around in my garage."
"I'm not a real writer. I only write audio dramas."
Am I close? You bet I am. I know I'm close because I've said a version of those very sentences more times than I can count. In fact, I told a good friend in a text just last night that I don't see myself as a poet because "I write about monsters and Dad jokes and not about 'deep' thoughts...life and beauty and passion." I even said I'm "a poet, but not quite". What the heck does that even mean?
The weird thing, and the reason this is the subject of Thursday! this week, is what came after. I realized, maybe a half-hour after I sent those texts that my Inner Critic had someone heck of a job on me. Not once during that conversation did I ever stop to consider that my view of what a poet must be wrong because it doesn't include me, an actual poet.
To me (and perhaps to you, too), titles like "poet" or "artist" are important. They're labels we can wear like the most awesome piece of flare on our Chochke's vest*. They're good for us, those labels, if we choose to wear them ourselves and if we've earned them honestly.
Still, it feels wrong to me to grab that label and wear it. It feels wrong to say "I" as often as I do (and I'll say here as a caveat that I'm not so foolish as to think the stuff I've done is all me, me, me. It isn't. I've gotten a boat load of help from my amazing wife, a couple very close friends, an amazing creative community, and God Himself. No one is an island. No one is even a peninsula. Especially not me. But for the sake of brevity, let's just go with "I", with this in mind)
Here's the thing, though. We are horrible to ourselves way more often than we should be. We do not often treat ourselves as kindly as we should. We tell ourselves cruel truths about our failings while downplaying our successes. Most of us would rather die a thousand deaths before we'd give ourselves one honestly earned title. Those titles, though, are cool! Being a poet is cool**! It's my label to wear if I want to! I earned it I did the work. I put my name on the cover. I took the risk of rejection.
So did you. You did something cool and creative. You did something you've longed to do but you're afraid to put that label on yourself because you're not what you picture in your head when you say the word.
Let's play that game again. Picture a poet in your mind. Did you see me there? Yeah? No?
I did. Just now. I saw myself there with the others. And it was pretty cool.
Okay. Now you! Say that word. You know the one.
Writer.
Poet.
Singer.
Artist.
Public Speaker.
Sculptor.
Storyteller.
Broadcaster.
Musician.
Say it, only this time put your face right there among the other faces you see. You don't have to be just like them to stand among them. You don't have to look like them or sound like them or even make art they way they do. You made your own art. You did your own stuff.
Wear that flare. You earned it.
*Office Space. Jennifer Aniston? 15 pieces? Hmmm?
**I'm also pretty sure it entitles me to wear a beret if I want to and if anyone gives me heat about it I can look at them in a haughty fashion, and say "Back off, man. I'm a poet!"
AWESOME EVENT ALERT: Do you like podcasts? How about podcasts with me as a guest?? Sarah Werner invited me onto her critically-acclaimed and fun-as-all-get-out show Write Now to talk about writing and creativity and my book. We cover all those things plus more. I'm not sure how long the show is, but I know we spoke for over an hour. Sarah was wonderful, I was intense, we both has a really good time. The show should land on her site and whatever pod catcher you use a little bit later today, so save this link and check back! Also, I'll link to it again next week, because I AM JUST THAT EXCITED!
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What I Wrote and Read Last Week (More or Less)
"The Music of the Spheres" is a big story in a few words, which charmed me as I wrote it.
Are you passionate about pasta as the man in this short poem?
Some days I'm bearly a poet.
Silence is a good thing to enjoy on a regular basis. Our brains need it to digest what it's taken in and our hearts need it to regain strength and focus.
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One Last Thing
This is where I ask you to help me out. I don't like asking for help but there's no way I can share Thursday! far and wide without wonderful people like you who dig what I do and are willing to tell other people about it. Please, feel free to share this or any past newsletter with anyone you think will love it like you do. You can also buy or share my cool book, give it a solid review, or get an autographed copy (ask and I'll tell you how!).
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