May Love Letter, darling

Rejection is a part of the process, right?

Hi lovelies! I hope you’ve had a wonderful May! This month’s love letter is coming in just under the wire, but look at me! It’s happening! (and now because I don’t want to come across as obnoxious, here’s a sentence without an exclamation point.)

I may have mentioned a month or two ago that I entered a writing contest run by Central Avenue Publishing. I found out the results today via email.

Whomp whomp.

It happens. And it stings a little. But each time less and less. The major sting here is that I spent $25 to submit. Most poetry contests or submission opportunities have at least a small fee to pay their readers and their editors. I am happy to pay because a workman is worth his hire, as they say, but I was hoping to at least make it into their anthology and get my $25 dollars back! Maybe next time.

Rejection is a weird thing because it affects so many people differently. Some use it as a springboard to better things, like a strange twist on revenge. Other use it as an excuse to quit because they listened to the little lying voice that whispers all their pernicious not-enoughs in their ears.

I like to think I’m of the first camp, although I will admit discouragement often finds me in many forms about a whole host of different things, but it’s really funny (like root canal funny) how it all seems to converge at one time. I almost never have a single disappointment. They tend to all find me at once and try to beat me over the head with every perceived short-coming.

But time marches on (*insert Tracey Lawrence vibes here*) and like anything else that requires long term commitment to succeed, I have to keep writing and submitting and publishing. No one will care about my work as much as I do. It’s a part of me, and while I hope you feel like my words harmonize with your experience, they come from a deep and sometimes private place.

I’ve written about this before, but vulnerability is a strength even when we think it’s a weakness. When I post a poem, or submit to a contest, or talk about my ideas with my in-person writing group, it is an exercise in vulnerability.

And lately I have felt like one of those burly dudes that hang out at the Scottish Highland Games and fling logs into the sky.

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LISTENING/READING/WATCHING/WRITING

LISTENING:

I love Jason Isbell’s songwriting. “Middle of the Morning” is one of his newer releases, and I can’t help singing along on the long I sounds he really emphasizes. This song reminds me of the Allman Brothers’ music in some ways.

I’ve also recently loved “Goodbye Carolina” by The Marcus King Band. Jared introduced me to his music a while back, but I am just now really getting into it. The fact that this scenario happens nearly every time Jared shows me new music is one of his major pet peeves! But, in my defense, I get into a certain set of music and it takes me a long time to branch back out! This song is worth it.

Something about the start of summer gets me on a Southern rock kick. I think it’s the humid nights I spent driving my Camaro around in college. I bought Gladys the Wonder Camaro at a yard sale and this, dear reader, is my white trash origin story.

READING:

I recently finished Maggie Smith’s memoir You Could Make This Place Beautiful. It’s about her marriage and subsequent divorce. It is a sad and, I believe, honest retelling of one side of a story that so many women artists probably could tell.

The blurb:

“Life, like a poem, is a series of choices.”

In her memoir You Could Make This Place Beautiful, poet Maggie Smith explores the disintegration of her marriage and her renewed commitment to herself in lyrical vignettes that shine, hard and clear as jewels. The book begins with one woman’s personal, particular heartbreak, but its circles widen into a reckoning with contemporary womanhood, traditional gender roles, and the power dynamics that persist even in many progressive homes. With the spirit of self-inquiry and empathy she’s known for, Smith interweaves snapshots of a life with meditations on secrets, anger, forgiveness, and narrative itself. The power of these pieces is cumulative: page after page, they build into a larger interrogation of family, work, and patriarchy.

You Could Make This Place Beautiful, like the work of Deborah Levy, Rachel Cusk, and Gina Frangello, is an unflinching look at what it means to live and write our own lives. It is a story about a mother’s fierce and constant love for her children, and a woman’s love and regard for herself. Above all, this memoir is an argument for possibility. With a poet’s attention to language and an innovative approach to the genre, Smith reveals how, in the aftermath of loss, we can discover our power and make something new. Something beautiful.

Sounds good, right? I appreciated that there were some questions left unanswered because how can someone answer a question when there are no good answers?

I’ve also listened to the first two books in the A Court of Thorns and Roses series. I put the third audiobook on hold at the library, but 29 people are ahead of me, so I guess I’ll find out what happens in a little over a year lol!

This series is EVERYWHERE, and I get the hype. It definitely sucks you in.

WATCHING:

Jared and I are going to watch the series finale of Ted Lasso tonight, and I fully intend to cry. I love this show so much. The language is not my favorite, but there is a beautiful optimistic realism about this show that makes me want to tear up.

and one more:

So be sure to watch it if you can. Just be prepared for some f-words and make sure the kids are in another room. You know what, you just parent how you feel is best. You are not reading this because of my excellent parenting skills lol

WRITING:

My latest project has taken a turn! I was sorting through all the blackout poetry that I had finished, so I could decide what I wanted to include and which ones I wanted to make art for, and before long, I realized I had a whole book’s worth right there! There were even serendipitous poems that I had no idea would connect, yet they did. I’m not 100 percent sold on a book of solely blackout poems, but it is an intriguing idea that I am definitely considering.

I hope y’all all had a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend with your families. I did! Memorial Day always makes me think of my friend Tony, who would force himself to watch documentaries about Vietnam every Memorial Day because he came home when his friends didn’t. There’s a poem there somewhere.

There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends.

Tell me what you’ve been into lately! Also, would you buy a solely blackout poem book? And if you watch the Ted Lasso finale, please let me know how many tears you shed because I would like to compare. Hit the reply button or comment and let me know!

I love y’all!

Tristan