It never mattered much before how often and where my poetry got published. I wrote because it was a compulsion. When I did send anything out, it was to publications to which I figured I had a good chance of being accepted. Every once in a while I would get a rejection, but it wasn’t very often.
Suddenly it’s mattering to me to know if my poetry is really any good. Am I average? Am I a “B” level poet? I know I”m not an “A.” I’ve never been an “A” in anything. “B+” is about as high as I go, and that goes for my talents at knitting, crochet, sewing, and ballroom dancing.
Now, writing is something else. I’d say I’m about an “A-“. Every job I’ve every had has involved writing, and I’ve always done well at it. I’m a pretty good “persuasive” writer. I used to say that I am able to spin straw into gold; I can take disjointed ideas and turn them into a compelling piece of written material.
So why, now, is it important for me to know if my poetry is considered “good” by others? It doesn’t seem to matter how good other people think I am at anything else I do. It’s all just part of how I spend my time.
But with my poetry, it’s different. For some reason, now, at my advanced age, I need to know.
So I’m taking a chance and sending poems out to more discriminating poetry publications. I need to know.
And if they are rejected? It shouldn’t matter, right?
Poetry is so subjective and so personal for the reader, that it is impossible to write something that appeals to a mass audience. Of course, as with any author, the knowledge that you are being read (and appreciated) is what keeps you going. As a recent entrant into the world of blogging, I often wondered if i was just talking to myself. And than I remembered an article I read on blog writing. One of the things the author said is that people who have favorable comments or thoughts about your writing will rarely comment on it. While those who hate it are never at a loss for words, or the time to write to you. Just hang in there and be content with the fact that only the best people like your stuff.
It always matters! The only question is, how much? Perhaps as we age we become more aware there actually may not be a tomorrow to achieve what we might have unconsciously thought we would eventually.